The quote in the title is from a book; "A lion Among Men" by Gregory Maguire- which funnily enough is written from the perspective of the cowardly lion from the Wizard of Oz. That's exactly how I have been feeling recently: Cowardly.
So I'm just going to say it- I'm a total insomniac. I always have been, I suppose. When I was a kid, I had this huge imagination and no idea how to control it- so I would imagine spiked tentacles coming out of my closet, and Shadow Beings darting across my doorway in the middle of the night- those were probably the least of my worries in a world like this, but at age 7 or 8 they were serious enough to make me sleep with the cover right over my head. How this would prevent me from coming to any harm from such supernatural beings, I'm not too sure- and to be honest it was actually super hard to breathe under there... but anyway that's not the point.
The point is that I've always been like this- when I got a bit older, and I had witnessed more in my life to be scared about than just spiky octopuses, I got nightmares. Terrible ones, that meant putting off sleep was better than sleeping and having to face the nightmares. I eventually saw a therapist for a while, and she helped me cope with them- as I had started to fall asleep in school- but they were always in the corner of my mind as I pulled back the covers each night to slide under.
When I had cancer, and I was on treatment, I was so miserable that actually going to sleep wasn't the hard part- waking up was. Having to go through that every day, each one more horrible than the last, was just so unbearable that staying up until 6am with Sex and the City, food and my thoughts seemed preferable than waking up and realising I wasn't the same little girl who's worst fear was some Shadow creature that she'd made up in her head- the fear that I was dealing with now was real, and unavoidable. I would take my medications, and receive chemo, and throw up, be poked and prodded and then I would do it all over again- every day. My life had turned from one where my imagination wasn't the only thing I couldn't control- I couldn't control anything anymore. My whole life was about fighting for my life, I was living a nightmare. So to avoid waking up, I avoided sleeping. However, this didn't work out so well for me when I realised that actually exhaustion and a terrible sleeping pattern didn't bode well for getting up early for hospital appointments and actually being well enough to cope with everything that was happening.
So, now all that's left is the present. Why don't I sleep now? Well, it's quite boring, if I'm honest. The only time I can really feel what I'm feeling is when no-one is around me and the world is silent and dark. It sounds stupid, but every day I'm so many different people- for my parents, for my friends, for polite acquaintances, for teachers, for medical professionals. It's a never ending cycle of different personalities for each group. When it gets to 2am and darkness has covered England like a blanket, and my house is silent apart from the soft breathing of my family- I feel like I can breathe and be myself. I can write, and cry, and just listen. If I want to, I can just sit and stare- I can just think. I can keep myself sane, is the more important thing.
I think people who live in writing are like that anyway- we get our best ideas when the dark is all around, and nothing is there to distract the millions of thoughts and voices whirring in our minds. And if I'm not desperately scrawling at 2am, then I'm probably reading feverishly. There's no laziness in the early hours of the morning- you would think there might be, when it's silence and no-one is around- but everything seems to move much more quickly than when everyone is awake.
I should probably stop rambling about my pathetic sleeping habits now, and leave all you lovely people to actually get ready for bed- or get up, depending where you are. I love you all, I'll write soon.
B x
So I'm just going to say it- I'm a total insomniac. I always have been, I suppose. When I was a kid, I had this huge imagination and no idea how to control it- so I would imagine spiked tentacles coming out of my closet, and Shadow Beings darting across my doorway in the middle of the night- those were probably the least of my worries in a world like this, but at age 7 or 8 they were serious enough to make me sleep with the cover right over my head. How this would prevent me from coming to any harm from such supernatural beings, I'm not too sure- and to be honest it was actually super hard to breathe under there... but anyway that's not the point.
The point is that I've always been like this- when I got a bit older, and I had witnessed more in my life to be scared about than just spiky octopuses, I got nightmares. Terrible ones, that meant putting off sleep was better than sleeping and having to face the nightmares. I eventually saw a therapist for a while, and she helped me cope with them- as I had started to fall asleep in school- but they were always in the corner of my mind as I pulled back the covers each night to slide under.
When I had cancer, and I was on treatment, I was so miserable that actually going to sleep wasn't the hard part- waking up was. Having to go through that every day, each one more horrible than the last, was just so unbearable that staying up until 6am with Sex and the City, food and my thoughts seemed preferable than waking up and realising I wasn't the same little girl who's worst fear was some Shadow creature that she'd made up in her head- the fear that I was dealing with now was real, and unavoidable. I would take my medications, and receive chemo, and throw up, be poked and prodded and then I would do it all over again- every day. My life had turned from one where my imagination wasn't the only thing I couldn't control- I couldn't control anything anymore. My whole life was about fighting for my life, I was living a nightmare. So to avoid waking up, I avoided sleeping. However, this didn't work out so well for me when I realised that actually exhaustion and a terrible sleeping pattern didn't bode well for getting up early for hospital appointments and actually being well enough to cope with everything that was happening.
So, now all that's left is the present. Why don't I sleep now? Well, it's quite boring, if I'm honest. The only time I can really feel what I'm feeling is when no-one is around me and the world is silent and dark. It sounds stupid, but every day I'm so many different people- for my parents, for my friends, for polite acquaintances, for teachers, for medical professionals. It's a never ending cycle of different personalities for each group. When it gets to 2am and darkness has covered England like a blanket, and my house is silent apart from the soft breathing of my family- I feel like I can breathe and be myself. I can write, and cry, and just listen. If I want to, I can just sit and stare- I can just think. I can keep myself sane, is the more important thing.
I think people who live in writing are like that anyway- we get our best ideas when the dark is all around, and nothing is there to distract the millions of thoughts and voices whirring in our minds. And if I'm not desperately scrawling at 2am, then I'm probably reading feverishly. There's no laziness in the early hours of the morning- you would think there might be, when it's silence and no-one is around- but everything seems to move much more quickly than when everyone is awake.
I should probably stop rambling about my pathetic sleeping habits now, and leave all you lovely people to actually get ready for bed- or get up, depending where you are. I love you all, I'll write soon.
B x
