On Tuesday morning at 4:45 a.m. I was sleepless. I got up, walked into my study and cozied up to my 24″ iMac. To write. On hope, of all things. I was sleepless because I was feeling hopeless. Rare, for me. I was exhausted. I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t turn off my thoughts.
Sleeplessness is my arch-enemy…
Sleeplessness is a serious trigger for me and my hypomanic mind. In no time sleeplessness ushers in twinklings ~ bizarre interpretations of a reality smacking of mania, psychosis, madness. Bit-by-bit, but fast.
I can tell when I’m this way. When and while this is happening. I can see it happening from an onlooker’s viewpoint. It’s curious. I’ve been manic ~ full-blown and floridly psychotic ~ so often, I’m used to the signals. There’s a certain comfort in that, strange as it may seem.