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So I Just Lay There, Staring into the Darkness

And so I lie there. Creating scenarios in my mind that will never come true. Isolating myself from the world because of fiction. Isolating. Isolating.

So I just lay there, maddeningly staring at the ceiling. It was barely light enough to see, but I knew the surroundings so well that it was easy to make out what was around me. I was staring off into the dark because every time I closed my eyes to attempt sleep once again my mind would start racing.

It was an uncontrollable racing. It was rabbit hole after rabbit hole that delved deeper and deeper into realities that didn’t exist with conversations that will never happen and with people who are far more cruel and far more cold than ever would be in real life. I would open my eyes, tell myself to relax, and return to the attempt at sleep only to be drawn even further in.

I tried it all. Resetting my sleep routine. Get out of bed, do all the things you typically do to get ready for bed and start over. Don’t allow the tension and anxiety that comes with not falling asleep to be the dominant feeling left as you lay in bed. That only delayed the inevitable. Back in bed. Staring into the darkness. Not seeing clearly but seeing everything all at once.

I wrestled with myself about why. I get up early, try to eat and drink conscious of what my body is telling me, and workout regularly. On top of the usuals of how I try to live my life, I’m also tired. I’m exhausted. Sleep hasn’t come easily lately. Tonight worst of all. So I lie there, arguing with myself about what to do next.

As someone who deals with anxiety and depression I can tell you that arguing with myself is a very unsettling feeling. I struggle with what my mind is telling me so often to begin with that having an unsettled conversation in my own head is something that maybe few will be able to relate to. It’s in those quiet moments where we feel trapped within sleeplessness and exhaustion that we feel the most confronted with that which scares us the most.

This is an intensely personal post. I’ve never hidden my anxiety or depression. The isolation that one feels in the midst of this is something that I have set out to tackle. I write and talk about what I have experienced and what I do experience not as a public journal; that would only feed the need that I have battled for acceptance. I write and talk about what I have experienced and what I do experience so that someone who stumbles across my writings may know that, even though they feel alone, they are not.

I write and talk about what I have experienced and what I do experience so that someone who stumbles across my writings may know that, even though they feel alone, they are not.

And that was the very thought that got me out of bed tonight and brought be to my tablet. It’s been a long time since I wrote anything at all on my blog. The last post I made was before my dog died. I think that’s been a month. I don’t know for sure, but quite frankly I have no desire to scroll through social media to see when I posted about JD (my 10 year old dachshund). It’s not that I haven’t felt the desire or even the inspiration to write. I have, but I fought myself on it. I didn’t want to dredge up those feelings. I don’t separate my emotions from my writing. I can’t. I write through my emotions.

And so I lie there. Creating scenarios in my mind that will never come true. Isolating myself from the world because of fiction. Isolating. Isolating.

When did I start isolating myself again? When did this thinking happen to me again? When did I allow myself to get to this point again?

So it comes to a head. All that to come to the never ending conclusion that the battle is never over. It rages and then it fades but it never completely drifts from us and surprises us at our moments of what we feel are serenity.

For many who read this, this may seem like the late night ramblings of a want-to-be writer. However, for those of you that have sat and stared into the familiar darkness of your room fighting the decision to try sleep one more time at the risk of hearing the thoughts and opinions of fictitious people clothed in the familiarity of those closest to you I write to you that you are not alone. Those thoughts that seem pointed are your insecurities are not those of someone else but rather those of yourself clothed in the veil of others. Speak life and truth into your heart. Don’t allow the emotions you may be experiencing overrun the life that others around you try to pour into your heart.

Listen to those who love you. Trust that you are not what you fear most. Act upon the knowledge that you may not be in control of what happens tomorrow but you are in control of how you respond.

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