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cosmolinguist) wrote2025-07-28 01:39 am
Insomnia
it has been a minute since my insomnia was this bad.
It was bad that I woke up at 6am after woefully inadequate sleep and could not fall asleep again even though I was so tired I felt like I'd been poisoned.
It was bad when I slept for like 3 hours this afternoon to make up for that, thereby deciding for me whether or not D and I were going to the Midsommars gig today.
And then I felt bad for "not doing anything" today, even though I was up and dressed by 7, had breakfast and coffee, emptied the dishwasher, walked with yrieithydd to meet angelofthenorth, tidied away the bedding they'd used on the sofa last night, started the laundry, fetched and carried things for D while he looked at doing some car DIY, heated up some leftovers for him for dinner, talked to my parents...
I think it felt like "nothing," despite all that, because it didn't feel like enough to prepare me for another week of work. I felt so good about meeting a deadline for getting the first draft of a report done by the end of Friday, but now there's a ton more work to do on it -- the first task being to constructively accept the feedback of the four managers I've sent the first draft to, even though I'm so acutely aware of its failings that the only feedback I can cope with the prospect of receiving is one-dimensional gushing praise. And I can't even have my emotional-support circuits class that normally makes Mondays bearable, not unless someone who's currently booked can't go, unbooks themselves, and I can book beforehand.
My insomnia felt worst this evening. I had a terrible case of the Sunday night morbs: I'm dreading work tomorrow like I said, I felt so lonesome, and I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep. I can usually tell by 8 or 9 at night whether I'll be able to get to sleep without too much difficulty or not. I can't explain how, but it's weirdly reliable. And everything about today was telling me there will be no sleep.
I walked up next to D after having a snack and told him I was going to bed, something I almost always do. He asked me how I was and I said my brain was being a jerk. He said that I should go make a rum and coke and join him on the sofa. And make him one too (heh). It was such an unusual thing for him to request -- he never argues with me saying I'm going to bed -- that I couldn't resist.
He put something on the TV and we ended up watching the first half of When Springsteen Came to Britain, which he told me he'd found and downloaded a while ago, but I'd forgotten about it since. It was a really nice treat, seeing the footage of the Boss and the Big Man when they were impossibly young men, singing along, letting the instrumental parts of "Backstreets" knit up the raveled sleeve of care like it always does...
It hasn't made it any easier for me to get to sleep of course. But it at least gave me some nicer things to think about while I've been awake. I felt very cared for (which sometimes helps with the loneliness too).
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I liked that the opening scenes of the documentary showed Springsteen on stage at the Stadium of Light in 2024! We were there!
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I did too. :) I wondered what you were going to show me and I did not have to wonder about that for long. :D
Maybe we can watch the other half when I get back tonight x
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