offwiththeirdollheads | Entries tagged with wants

Insomnia. She's an evil mistress. I thought I had succeeded in abolishing these debilitating bouts of sleeplessness that had haunted me in the past. I thought I had finally gotten myself in to a normal routine where sleep was not something I both desperately craved and feared at the same time. However, this turned out not to be the case.

She returned a few nights ago.

Good old insomnia.

I lay there for hours and hours on end recalling all the tricks of the trade that you can utilise in an attempt to try and quiet a restless mind. I counted. I meditated. I tried to empty my brain of all thoughts. I got up and paced frantically around the room. I tried to read a book. I tried to listen to music but alas the concept of sweet slumber appeared to be nothing more than a fallacy. I guess the one good thing about not being able to sleep is that it frees up some time to do some work. So last night in the small hours, I tackled doing some editing work. For the most part, it served useful despite the fact that I was still anxiously cursing my body for not allowing me to sleep during the process. I'm always asking for more hours in the day but I would also like to sleep.

It begins with a sensation.

Like a fist to the stomach, an ice cold bath, a paper cut. Sharp and fast.
I'm standing at the top of the stairs and the sensation arrives, swift and direct, and the blood surges through my veins like lava and yes, I am ready to erupt. I am standing at the top of the stairs and the overwhelming urge to throw myself down its short flight of twenty steps grips me. Yet, these steps are not cushioned with linoleum or carpet, these are hard, cold concrete slaps and I want my skull to greet each one with a sickening crack. I want my bones to twist and snap and bend and break. I want my spine to shatter like peanut brittle. I want to feel each moment as I break and lose my shape. I don't want to recognise the reflection.

I've been here before.

Standing on the curb edge, waiting for the three tonne lorry to pass. Imagining what it would feel like to marry my flesh to it's hot metal. Or walking by the river, I wonder what it would be like to try to swallow it whole. The bubbles escaping from the corners of my mouth as I submerge further. I let it all in. Sinking deeper into the abyss.

Yet, it is fleeting. As quick as the sensation takes hold, it releases me from its clasp. Offering me a moment to look inside the cacophony of madness. It's like looking inside a large shell. The softest whisper is transformed in to a vibrating pulse that can not be escaped. It rings in your ears and the claws slide in.

And then it's gone.

Like a hypnotist snapping his fingers, his volunteer is brought back from the trance. He may be slightly dazed, bewildered even; what did he just experience? He's not quite sure but he knows it was fraught with danger. There's a relief afterwards. Thank god that's over with. Whatever that sensation was, whatever it meant, it's done with. Except as the willing volunteer stands up from the hypnotist's chair, he realises that he was not so willing after all and he's signed a contract with that sensation now. As sure as the sun rises each morning, that sensation is set to return.

I will be frank.

- There are days when you don't wake up because you haven't slept all night.

- You've lost track of what day/month/year it is and all you can feel is a sense of dread as you try to systematically recall what day it was yesterday.

- You wonder if the thud in your chest is caused by your heart beating or your soul trying to escape.

- You find yourself going through the motions despite not knowing how you got from point A to point B because you were internally scolding yourself for not sleeping last night. This is then proceeded by you being mad at yourself for 'self-scolding' because you know it can't be helped.

- You successfully manage to make it out of the door and you wonder 'now what?' and 'is this it?' The best questions seem to consist of two or three words. Each word resembling an injection of antifreeze, a piano falling on your head, a second lost.

- You try to conclude whether you are 'wasting time' or 'losing time' and what the difference is between the two.

- You realise that these were some of the thoughts plaguing your bed the previous night so you try to distract yourself.

- You read a newspaper but each story takes you from one horror to the next and you scour the pages attempting to find something they call 'good news' but you're suddenly at the obituaries and it all seems crystal clear now.

Life is about throwing all your pieces into a box. From the small assortment of mis-shaped items of your personality to the larger fragments of memories and experiences. Then closing the lid and shaking it so hard that it feels as though your arms are about to fall off. To experience life is to open up the lid and try and make sense of what is remaining inside.

It no doubt won't be pretty and it sure won't be easy trying to furiously fit those pieces together when it looks like you have five corner pieces amidst the pile. YOU MAKE IT WORK. It takes a little time and a bucket-load of motivation. Take the support if you have it. More hands can help lighten the load but be sure that you have organisation. If one of you is trying to fit the edges together and the other one is also using some of those pieces, you'll never complete the puzzle. That's all it is at the end of the day. A puzzle. A game. The lucky ones may get to finish theirs earlier on, some may never even get to understand the big picture from the mass of pieces they have to work with.

AT LEAST YOU TRIED.

It must be because I am a Libra. Indecisive and eternally seeking balance in everything I do. When the truth is, the scales will always tip one way or another. The concept of the perfect balance is merely a mirage. We juggle our daily lives as best as possible and the more organised individuals may even be able to plan and juggle the events of the next few days or weeks. And then life decides to throw you a curve ball. A huge whacking asteroid-sized curve-ball that is coming straight at you full force. You suddenly find that you are now no longer juggling those elements, you're sheltering yourself from being pelted by them.

Those of us that are better equipped may just open up their arms and embrace the collision and deal with damage-control later on. Others may have refined the use of the elegant side-step approach and manage to avoid the majority of the debris. There is a third type, the ones that stay catatonically frozen in fear; desperately hoping that the laws of gravity will suddenly change and the impending damage caused by these falling parts is inevitably spared. The chances of this happening are relatively slim.

You'll notice how I mentioned that the better equipped individuals are the ones who embrace the downfall. They don't mind the cuts and the bruises caused by all the pre-juggled life shrapnel because they know that there will be plasters and splints to help repair the damage later on. Life is messy. It's complicated and downright difficult. It's also surprising, unpredictable and beautiful. Some of us have mastered the technique of keeping things going when that curve-ball is coming at you faster than a chased gazelle. These are the lucky ones, the rare breed. They can even keep a smile going at the same time and these are the true heroes, the life warriors. The ones that I have much to learn from. For now I will have to learn to ride the wave, endure the impending impact and try my hardest to make informed decisions and maybe, just maybe keep a smile on my face.

As the Rolling Stones once informed us, you can't always get what you want.

But sometimes it would be nice.

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Not an Oracle

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January 2016

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