Friday, 8 May 2009

What A Difference One Night's Sleep Makes

After two whole bloody months of going steadily more and more 'up' (nuts), for once I think I've escaped (or am escaping) the ghastly bubble without desperately being driven back to the medication. After all, I used to survive before I was diagnosed.

This time I have just been waiting impatiently, excruciatingly, until exhaustion reached such a pitch it swallowed the energy with a black belch.

I slept nine hours last night - about half as much again as all the sleep I'd had in total in May so far. The night was jam-packed with dreams - I think my brain spent those hours filing and sorting to great effect - I'm sure my mental desk and in-box had overflowed my mental office, and the corridors, and was spilling onto the street outside.

I've spent all day with a peaceful head. I had forgotten what that felt like.

This may be a false dawn; one swallow doth not a summer make, etc, but I take great encouragement from dealing with this on my own account. It can go away by itself, eventually. Then again, I'll see tomorrow. Perhaps I'm in free-fall, passing through a comfortable part of the sky. But I don't want to think that way, so I won't.

Yes, I have had a horrible amount of stress over the last few months - tax bailiffs are not very restful - and yes, once again stress has proved it sends me flying. But I think I've come through.

And of all the strange coincidences, today, after waking peacefully, and spending a peaceful morning, when the post arrived with ANOTHER letter from the taxman, I found upon opening it an apology for the unacceptable way they had been hounding me.

I wish they would change their policy, rather than apologise afterwards, but heigh ho.

Thanks everyone for your kindness over recent months. Your solidarity has meant a lot.

D x

p.s. Here are some snippets from last night's dreams:

Shopping mall, the atrium of some public space, museum or gallery or somesuch. A chap is hanging from a cctv camera on the wall in some sort of protest. There is someone (security?) climbing up beside him. I'm standing on a window ledge slightly above trying to stop the security person who takes a knife and stabs the protester in the neck. I can't reach across the victim to stop the other. I'm shouting at the crowd below to get help.

Dockside, canal basin, sunshine, crowds, bizarre mixture of Gloucester and Venice. Someone is trying to get their magic self-perpetuation boat engine started. The cable keeps getting caught on other boats, staunchions, jetties, causing great tension and then the whipshock of breaking cables. I'm in the water between the piles and an iron barge. The cable catches and the tension builds and I can't move - dream paralysis. Thankfully I can talk in the dream, and ask a person for a hand - can pull myself out round the corner of the piles before the barge cracks and crushes against the piling.

I'm on an expedition with bizarrely my old uni lecturer, several other people, my wife and our youngest boy. We're all camping in a Landrover, and there are no toilet facilities. Everyone is filling plastic bags with poo, and the Landrover is filling up. I'm in an argument, trying to persuade people that we should hire a portaloo. We stop in a forest with large, elephantine boulders. I recognise it as Fontainbleau. Standing on a boulder a large piece falls off, and I have to jump for it. The piece on the ground (about the size of a sofa), slides across the flat ground haphazardly, then spins on it's axis very fast before stopping abruptly.

I'm hanging on a cliff, there are two bodies or injured people caught in their ropes nearby, other people are doing a hoisting exercise, pulling an armchair up the rockface. They are too busy to help.

Scattering through a city with others. Party feel. Chaotic, fate-breezes blowing through the streets. Meet old friend. About to kiss but suddenly our faces are covered with spit - I blame her, she blames me. Holding onto collasping oriel window, old timber, trying to climb up high enough to retrieve a blanket that is something to do with us. The timbers keeps slipping out and crumbling and there are railings below. Eventually climb down and ask a friend for help, but when we return there is a strange fiesta going on, and lots of seated cardinals and nuns just below where I need to climb up.

There was plenty more, but it's all evaporated. Or self-censored. :-)


LoopyKate said...

Dreams featuring much climbing and clambering with things crumbling and collapsing - I've been having alot of those too.
How wonderful to have got some rest after all that bedlam. I can just about remember the feeling of a cool and peaceful head. I must be due mine back soon.
Also great news about the tax hooligans. I'm actually staggered that they made an apology. You know if you'd come to us at CAB we would have filled in the obligatory 'evidence form'. It goes to them at the social policy tank and, believe it or not, if there's weight and numbers behind it, sometimes goes some way towards changing things.
Whateva. I'm just glad you're feeling better. Hope it holds out.

Abysmal Musings said...

Thanks Kate - ha, we did go to CAB. They gave us a link to National Debtline! Bloody Tetbury!

Strange thing about dreams - so little sleep recently I don't think I've had any - they all came at once. Though no number nine buses were involved.

Here's wishing you a cool and peaceful head asap. Sending you cold compress/soothing ewer-bearing angels/icepack/porridge poultice (delete as desired).

I just have room to think again - there's been too much of the triple-overlapping thoughts - gaining sense, isolating anything meaningful has been a bitch recently. I didn't snap at anyone today! (Cheer). (Although yesterday I made obscene gestures at a car driver and felt awful when I saw it was a little old lady (don't worry - I'm sure she didn't even notice judging from her driving style), gave someone the sharp edge of my tongue in the hospital reception for letting the door swing in my face, and was scathing with the physio because she was frankly, crap, and incompetent). So from one day to the next, a marked improvement!

Take care, Dx

LoopyKate said...

Without knowing the situation it's rather difficult to comment but I'm surpised you got fobbed off so quickly. Possibly it's something to do with us being the mental-health arm but I'm watching case workers doing all the leg and pen and phone work quite frequently with the result of dissappearing debts altogether. Did they mention the 'debt relief order' that came in in March? £90 to get anything under £15,000 frozen for a year then, pending your situation in 12 months time, the lot wiped off - clean slate.
My grandparents lived round your neck of the woods. Funny old place.
I too made obscene gestures at a little old lady driver who pulled out on me this morning. She smiled beneficently and waved at me. I felt rotten about that too although frankly, I feel bloody awful for farting or blinking an eye just now. Nothing a good night's kip won't sort out, I'm sure.
My parents left me a litre of whisky tonight. It's the last thing I need lurking in my house right now. I may have to go for a late night wander and hand it over to the local pissheads. I'll take the porridge poultice I think.

Abysmal Musings said...

Hi Kate,

To be honest it was my K who went in - I think back then I was eating the furniture. But that was the only advice they gave. Perhaps I should try a different town. Mebbe St...d? Ah well.

Cotswolds - bah - hate the place - full of the most ghastly people - they are either rich as Croesus or poor and cowed. People like me who won't give an inch to either end of the scale are few and far between.

Farting: a simple pardon me suffices - no need to feel bloody awful. And blinking is useful. Keeps the dust out.

I wish I had the instant sleep remedy. Mine was based on NOT getting 'pathetic sleep' - the sort that just keeps you going. When it got to seven, I put the coffee on. (and then wondered next night at 5 in the morning why I still wasn't tired). I don't drink much coffee btw! Anyway, after a week of this moreorless, a day arrived when I knew I'd get to sleep. Thank goodness. I don't think I'm out of the woods yet, but by hell it made a difference.

Anyway, sending you all the sleepiest brainwaves I can muster, and I'll let you know if my head hits the straw tonight! (fingers crossed).

Yeah, that whisky would be a sore temptation - can't you use it to clean the family silver or something ;-) Bury it in the garden for a rainy day.

Thanks for the advice, it's much appreciated.

Take care of yourself Kate, hope you feel better soon, D x

Immi said...

Good sleep aaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Glad you're getting some.

depressionetal said...

Sleep is gorgeous, I can't imagine how not sleeping for so long must have affected your sense of well-being. Glad to hear you managed to get a bit anyway.
I get lots of weird vivid dreams that I only remember for a short time, I think my fluoxetine is partly to blame,

La-reve said...

I thought I had posted here? Hmm I am on leave from asylum so thought I would pop by and say how glad I am that you are getting some sleep if it's one thing hospital done for me its sort out my sleep out makes big difference. long may it continue. x

La-reve said...

for you and me I mean

Abysmal Musings said...

Thanks Immi, tis the balm for troubled souls etc... (making up another pretend quote there).

Louise - it was rather 'jangly' and 'strange'. Bloody horrible in other words.

La-reve - thanks so much for your well-wishes - you take care ok? Hope things are good for you soon.