I would really love to know exactly what it is that makes the nights so unbearably miserable. It's like when the sun goes down below the horizon it sucks all the light out of the world and the dark presses in, prepared to wreck everything that was built in the day.
I'm not even afraid of the dark. It is not afraid of me either, choosing to surround me and suffocate me in total blindness, refusing to relinquish me until the sun arrives with the alarm clock, racing over the opposite horizon in a quiet attempt at rescue.
Because the nightmares, my God. They're still here. They were here waiting for me while I chose to sleep drugged and dreamless, knowing that Jacob could and would get up with the kids because I wouldn't be able to if they needed me and I needed to sleep. And now that the drugs are gone the terrible nightmares have run screaming up to the threshold of my mind and they're breaking down the damn door.
I wake up screaming. Or sobbing. Or just plain scared shitless. Or wondering what ever the fuck could be this bad that my body won't just let me sleep, instead choosing to relive and invent and examine and beat every bad experience to death right in front of me.
