Last night I finally picked up my new prescription for sleeping pills. I forget the name. It is the newest thing. I am an insomniac. I can't get to sleep unassisted in under an hour and I wake up a lot. The best sleep I've had for a long time was on the first pills Dr. L gave me, Ambien. But Ambien isn't for long term use and can be habit forming. So Dr. L gave me something else, but it makes me groggy in the morning and I've had a lot of trouble getting out of bed in the morning. Long story short, I didn't sleep a single minute last night on the new drug.
At first I was pleased with the pill, I was sleepy after taking it and was looking forward to a good nights sleep. But my mind refused to obey. Around 4am I started feeling really odd. Like my body was falling asleep, but my mind was still awake. It felt like my breathing was becoming shallower and then my fingers got tingle-y like they were falling asleep. I panicked a bit. This is a really new drug. I went to get the pharmacy warnings. It was pretty vague but did say that it could cause hallucinations. It also said not to take the medicine if you have sleep apnea. I don't think I do because I've been told I don't snore, but we never did the sleep study Dr. L wanted to do when I first went to him.
I tried to sleep again but couldn't stop thinking. I was worried I'd go to sleep and never wake up. That pissed me off. I have worked so hard this year to get my shit together. That pill may not work for me as a sleep aid, but it made me realize that I truly do not want to die. I realize that for most people this isn't a news flash, but for me it is quite something.
I've been clinically depressed since sixth grade. I went through several major depressions in high school and college where I was seriously suicidal. I was never treated for this. I can't remember if I even told people. I did sort of once in high school, it freaked my parents out and I had an emergency session with my therapist. This was pre-Prozac and she wasn't a psychiatrist so nothing was done.
Anyway, one of the most depressing days of my life was the day I realized that I could never commit suicide. I cared too much for my family and friends. I valued the lives of the people I loved more than I valued myself, so there was no way out for me. This was truly depressing. Since that revelation in 1993, I have existed, trudging through the days but not really caring if I didn't wake up in the morning. I've been unconsciously trying to kill myself passively with food. At some point this year my feelings about life changed, I just didn't notice.
So today, although I am groggy with lack of sleep, is a very good day. I do not want to die. I have things I want to do and see. I have hope, not just for others, but for myself.