Sitting up in bed surrounded by Hobnob flapjacks, tea and candles at half two in the morning was, lets face it, not what I was expecting.
I woke from yet another bad dream about an hour ago and have since given my two pennies worth on Twitter about the poor beached whales in Skegness, made a cup of tea, eaten my way through a pack of hobnob flap jacks and decided that sleep is no longer the way forward and I will not be doing any of that tonight.
I have the beginnings of a cold which I’m trying to sniff back into non existence, my mind is whirring over thoughts of yesterday’s stresses at work, my impending chat with one of my managers about a job prospect, my hideous and unwelcome dreams which are invading my mind, my nights and my sanity and the trillion other things I worry about on a daily basis. And it’s at this point I read that back and think, Amy, take some of your own advice and realise that worrying does not change the outcome of anything and will only serve to make thing you’re worrying over, more intimidating.
But that’s not so easy when it’s personal. We’re all crap at taking our own advice. For example, I am the Healthy Living Champion at work, yet the most unhealthy myself. I promote good health, healthy eating and happy living. I eat badly, don’t exercise and am in a perpetual state of worry and miserableness. I’m a walking contradiction. Fortunately, I’m on my feet all day at work and love salads and vegetables, it’s just the times between work and a lettuce leaf when it all goes a bit tits up.
Anyway, I can assure you it’s not my impending morbid obesity that’s keeping me awake. It’s quite simply these effing dreams I have night after night, taunting me until I wake up then staying with me throughout the day making me feel pretty damn awful.
These dreams all relate to one thing. The breakup. 8 months on & still feeling tormented by the whole thing. And the relentlessly annoying thing about it, is that when I’m not dreaming, I’m fine. Yeah I think about it, but I’m not tormented by it in my waking hours. I can think about it, then happily move on to something else. But in my head, at night, in my dreams, some irritating little shit of a mind cretin goes “I know, lets make her feel even worse about it all by getting her to see all the people who hurt her and get them to say nasty things about her and make her relive every bit of badness she’s spent 8 months overcoming all by herself”. Because even though he went to so much effort to make me feel completely guilty and responsible for it not working out, there is no escaping the fact that certain factors (and by that I mean certain people) made it not only a living hell, but an impossibility for it to work out. And so they’re in my dreams most nights, making me know just how unwanted I was. And despite going through all of that hurt and heartache 10 fold already, eight months on, it still finds a way to hurt, unfortunately.
And while everyone sleeps peacefully, here I am. Tormented at two in the morning.
It’s the darkest hour of the darkest night
It’s a million miles to the morning light
Can’t get no sleep, don’t know what to do