I probably won’t sleep when I’m dead either.

Insomnia is one of the many ugly step sisters of bipolar disorder. Most mental illnesses really. It has been a pain in my ass longer than I can remember. Some kids stay up late and sleep through half of high school, I couldn’t help staying up all night and somehow still made it through all of grade school. After accepting that I have to deal with this I came to realize that trying to force myself to sleep is counter productive. If I lay there and try to fight it by attempting to quiet my thoughts and keeping my eyes closed, then my body starts to get restless and I begin to get angry. Well, maybe a state of psychopathic rage paints a better picture.

On a typical sleepless night things go a little something like this…

I start settling into be and try to ignore the fact that my eyes feel like they’re bulging out of my head and just don’t want to close, or that my thoughts are racing fast enough to give me whiplash.

I get comfortable, cuddle up next to my dog and try to find something exceedingly boring to watch on TV.

HA! Nice try boring yourself to sleep. Fat chance.

Then I get on Pinterest and do some virtual hoarding.  Maybe get caught up in 25 open tabs of Buzzfeed articles.

Then I realize I can’t concentrate, so I try to get comfortable and fall asleep.

Sorry sucka! Not happening!

Then I start doing all sorts of odd things to do at 2:00am. Like plucking my eyebrows, dusting my bedroom, opening up drawers or boxes because I don’t even remember what’s in them, chewing a cups worth of ice, and Googling ridiculous things. I mean seriously, who the hell needs to read up on the origin of germ theory at  like 3am?

When I’m done distracting myself I start to get slightly delirious. My whole body wants to sleep to so bad, it needs it, but it won’t. For me, it’s a losing game.

I’ll lay in bed and try to correctly translate random sentences into Spanish, a language which I haven’t truly spoken since high school. I create dialogues between myself and people I’m close to. I’m pretty good at guessing their responses, probably from all of the practice. (Just kidding, that’s weird. What is wrong with me?)

I’ll start thinking up socially inappropriate scenarios and rude things to do to people I do and don’t know. So, I start cracking up.

“Oh, Victoria. You’re so damn funny and clever. Clever like a velociraptor.”

Then all of a sudden it hits me like a brick. My body just turns off and by morning it all feels like it was a dream. That is once I convince my body that it isn’t a cadaver and get out of bed.

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