Dread

I don't sleep. From the moment Colby was born I was afraid he'd stop breathing so I'd stay up all night watching him breathe. Then when he developed asthma, he did turn blue several times. There were several ambulance rides, days and days in the hospital. Those years got me in the habit of not sleeping.

Now I stay busy during the day. Go, go, work, work. I stop several times throughout the day to think, reflect, but the pain, the anguish, is too great so I get busy again. By nightfall I am exhausted. I lie in bed and the anxiety returns and I find an excuse to get up, then another, and another. Before I know it, it is morning and I have dozed for less than an hour.

This happens most nights. I go through my days in a daze. Several times I leave the house and forget to turn the water in the sink off. Only one minor flood so far. Over the counter sleep aids make it worse. I shake, I am revved up, and sleep for the next several nights is impossible.

I try relaxation techniques, routines, zen tea, deep breathing, but the thoughts in my head rush in, overpower everything and I am up again, holding my arms around myself and pacing through the house.

In the mirror I do not look like me. A stranger's face stares back through the glass. Dark circles, baggy eyes. Old. Exhausted. Tonight will be different, I think. Tonight I will sleep. I think that every night and some nights, for a few minutes, I even believe myself. I have come to dread the night.