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Little Black Book of Eventually Read Secrets
And I sleep
It's 2:00 am. I stare up at the ceiling in silent contemplation and my husband sleeps beside me, his hand resting on my belly, his breathing heavy in slumber.
But sleep does not find me. It never has... And thus, with the aid of a tiny blue pill, I must seek it. But it takes time.
So I sit in the dark, staring up at the roof.
And against my better judgement, I allow myself to feel and reflect. Alone in the dark.

I feel excitement, for my surgery. My tests came back good. This is going to change everything if I pass the psych assessment--which I know I will. I am remarkably good at wearing a face. I didn't realize how good until I met my internalist. She sat across from me as we talked about the surgery, and we bring up my mental health.
"You are very well put together. I know, when we met, you said you were diagnosed borderline... But I just don't see how. Are you sure it's not bipolar?"
I feel a twinge of anxiety at her doubt. Frustration. I tell her, if you knew me a year ago, you'd understand.
I was insane. But now, I'm on medications.
Now, I am normal...

I feel embarrassment next, thinking about my activities lately. My attempts to reach out to someone who might just very well hate me. My desire for simple things, like a song name, or just simple conversation. And the pure rejection of it all...I feel embarrassed for my persistence. I question why I continue to try, as I try to envision the repulsed reaction they must feel, coupled with distaste whenever they see my name. They must hate me, or feel disgusted by ever interacting with someone like me...

And I feel humiliation, rebuffed by pride. I cannot blame them. I was an insane person, who was toxic and manipulative. Constant suicidal ideation, and selfishness. I was literally going insane, and had very little control over my actions. That is not a woman you love, or want to be with.. But I look back at that woman from two years ago, and I feel pride. I have come so far.

I feel pride, and marvel at what I have achieved. When the medication finally started working, it was like I woke up anew. I remember waking up, and feeling nothing for the first time. I wasn't immediately drowned by extreme sadness, anger, or excitement and happiness. I just felt nothing--and for someone that is borderline... That was bliss.

From there, I continued to strive for better. I became better. Although I still can't feel certain emotions that others can, and I can't be as comforting (my empath ability has taken a hit for this balance), I have become a better wife, a better mother. I am present, and in touch with my life. I am... Normal.

Though for this balance, I had to make sacrifices. I could no longer hide things that hurt me. I could no longer pretend some things were a dream, though I still wish they were. Like the complete stranger on the beach..

I digress...I can not blame this person for the hate. I only wish they truly knew me. Perhaps we could have been good friends. Unless their hatred or disgust is more or less directed to my physical form...well, that is unfortunate, and that will take a year to solve.

I blink once at the ceiling. Twice. A yawn, with heavy eyelids, and I pray that I am finally tired enough to curl to my sleeping husband beside me and get some much needed sleep. I forfeit the fight, and welcome the mute of an over active brain.

And I sleep.

Azure Starwish
Community Member
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