Insomnia

One of the things I miss the most right now is sleep. I just want to sleep.  I’ll do anything to sleep!

I’m too tired to chase It. It’s like being on drugs!

Don’t fuck with me sleep. I’ll be there at 10.30pm. Don’t let me down.

I want the kind of sleep you see on the television. Warm bed, soft pyjamas, steaming mug of milk. Big stretch. Smile at the day just done. Excited glance towards a cute bell topped alarm clock – ‘what will tomorrow bring?’ Comforting snuggle into the fresh deep bedding and …SLEEP!

Bliss!

Pretty sure I’ll drop off for an hour then treat myself to several hours of anxious worry, regret, self loathing and trust issues.

 

Pondering suicide

It could be the shove I need. Fixating on the possibility of death. Easier than taking the necessary steps to feel better.

I want a baby and my gutless approach to making it happen has dropped me head first into a rut. Feelings of loyalty towards a man grieving for a son he still has and a love he’s lost. And me, my feelings, I’ve put them to the back of the queue. I’ve put me last. I don’t believe I’m good enough for a different life. For a better life!

To die would be to escape the problem.

To die would be an extreme full stop at a life that still has things to do.

It would be a stupid unforgivable decision born from fear. The idea can only be seen as a diagnostic. It can only be a catalyst to change.

No! No death will come from this!

Trying to take the hit…

When I was a little girl I had a baby doll so realistic the neighbours thought they’d missed an arrival. Dad bought me cars and taught me how to fix things in the garage but the programming had already begun.

I just expected to be a mum one day. I had a marrow deep certainty. That’s what girls do. You know, have babies. Become mums. Mum, mother, mummy, mama, ma, mom, mere, that’s the goal for the girl with the hole.

Not having fulfilled life’s expectation haunts me. Follows me around like an evil entity taking my energy, my self esteem, my self worth, taking my fucking happiness!

Physically my body was up for kids you know. It tried once without me knowing but something went bang (I went bang) and it was just me again. It tried again a few years later but my head went bang and health and finances won over life. Back to just me I ran.

I’d run back to the clinic if I could. All melting make up and sorry, I didn’t mean it.  Please take me back. I’ll be a good mummy I promise.

Too little too late isn’t it?!

I killed my baby and now the man I’m with doesn’t want a child.  He already has one!

Guess I need to talk about it…