Tuesday, July 30, 2013

Laid to rest

"Wanderers eastward, wanderers west,
Know you why you cannot rest?
'Tis that every mother's son
Travails with a skeleton."

-- A.E. Housman, A Shropshire Lad

Self portrait 7-30-13

"The longest way must have its close --
the gloomiest night will wear on to a morning."

-- Harriet Beecher Stowe, Uncle Tom's Cabin

Self portrait (2) 7-30-13

"Might there come a time
When we stand over a grave
And mourn ourselves?
Mourn the past, a previous life?
Shall we weep for the passing of time?
Shall we grieve for unfulfilled dreams?
In my naivety; in my belief
In immortal youth, 
I sleep walk through life.
Someone ... wake me up.
Wake me up.” 

-- Samantha Young, Slumber

Today could potentially be kind of a big deal.

Today I am driving to a city about an hour and a half away, to a hospital with a sleep disorders center, to meet with a specialist who deals with chronic insomnia, to maybe, possibly, lay my sleep troubles to rest.

I am cautiously, tentatively optimistic.

Today could be the start of something good. 
It could be a step towards living again, towards reclaiming my life, which feels like it has been circling the drain for months -- dying a slow death, too exhausted and too wasted from sleep deprivation to do much else.

I've read and learned enough  about insomnia to understand that a permanent, non-pharmaceutical solution won't be easy and will probably involve a lot of hard work and effort. 

I'm prepared for that. 
The bright, hopeful side of me is, anyway.
I think.
I am also realistically, skeptically wary.

Today could big a big flop.

The specialist could tell me that a permanent, non-pharmaceutical solution is an impossible dream as she hands over a prescription and laughs like a cartoon villain. Bwaaa haaa haaa!

The specialist could simply say "You're fucked."

I'm prepared for that, too.

The darker, cynical, jaded side of me is, anyway.

Either way, I have to at least try.

And I will. Try.
Because I want insomnia to be something I once had. 
I want it to be a memory.
A bad dream that I was forced to stay awake for.
A visitor that came and way, way way overstayed its welcome, but ultimately left.
I want it dead.
A ghost.
A skeleton.

I want it, and me, to rest in peace.