moonstruck

I don't sleep. I have not been able to sleep a good sleep in years. Instead, my face burns, my cheeks are a stained pink, and I constantly turn the pillow over in a hunt for the cooler side. I stick my foot out from under the blanket. I put my feet at the head of the bed for a change of scenery. I do all of the routine things most people do when they are faced with a night of restlessness. Do any if these strategies ever work for anyone? Why do i repeat this ritual if it has failed me so loyally? "Insanity: doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results." Dammit Einstein, must you be such a judicious mad scientist? Of course you must, especially with a name like Einstein.

On nights when the tears are too plentiful for my eyes to read pages in a book or to write pages of my own, I gravitate toward the mirror. I stare at myself...I stare at me... at my absolute worst. I watch my eyes turn a bloodshot red and puff up. I put my hands to my cheeks as if to assume the "poor me" position. And on occasion I provoke dialogue. Yes,this is a fancy dancy beat-around-the-mulberry-bush way of saying "I talk to myself."

To say I talk to myself, however, is a misrepresentation. I definitely talk while I'm alone during an episode, but I am not talking to the frail figure in the mirror. I'd go so far as to say that the girl in the mirror is stronger, and talking to the girl standing in front of her, begging for empathy. Every time I'm there, conversing with the reflective surface, I'm telling the dumb-ass emotionally overwhelmed narcissistic borderline psycho that she is undoubtedly a dumb-ass narcissistic psycho. In short: I take part in malevolent self-talk.

Disregarding how absolutely awful, cruel, and contradictory this self-talk may seem....it usually calms me down. Perhaps it's humbling to see myself while I'm not quite myself. I tend to judge the girl I'm looking at and out of spite I try to prove her wrong...to rise to the occasion if you will. To "snap out of it", get to bed and go fuck James Dean in my dreams.

There's a very large and almost overwhelming part of me that says my psychiatrist would have a problem with this self-soothing method. I can't understand why...I mean, who doesn't need to give themselves a good kick in the cunt once in a while?