The answer to a common question.
Feb. 26th, 2011 01:35 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
spookyeviloneI have PTSD-induced chronic insomnia. Quite often, when I mention the 'insomnia' part, I am asked why I don't "take something" to help me sleep. I rarely try to drug myself to sleep, because it usually doesn't work or when it does.. erm, well, things like this morning happen.
Last night, I took a generic 25mg diphenhydramine HCL (generic Benadryl, y'all) in an effort to force grogginess at a reasonable hour. It kicked in around 1:45am and I popped in the mouth guard and lay me down to sleep the sleep of the just. Sleep happened. There were dreams, of which I remember nothing except Cher in a scary beehive hairdo, which may be a memory from a concert when I was tiny or made up out of whole cloth - this is CHER, so either is bloody likely. I love that unpredictable bitch. Gaga can eat herself raw - Cher was the original.
Today, conscious returned with noise.
"Whadd'ya at? How's she going buddy, Whadd'ya at todaaaay?"*
Shut up, Alan.
Meer?
"Well I was walking in the mainland city, and I was feeling so alone. I was looking for someone or thing to remind me of my home."
Shut. Up. Alan!
Meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeer!
*reaches over and slaps the snooze button on the alarm clock, right between the ears, resulting in blessed silence in which I start to drift off again*
"EVERYBODY MUST SAY WHADD'YA AT! ALL TOGEDDER NOW! WHADD'YA AT?! HOW'S SHE GOIN' BUDDY, WHADD'YA AT TODAYYYY?!"
SHUT THE FUCK UP, ALAN!
Meeeeeeeeeeeee-eeeer?
*another slap at the snooze button, and another moment of silence*
Never buying another alarm clock again as long as I live!
And of all the people I met down in the city or in the mall, I think I like my hometown friend the best one of them all! Because he didn't say "hello" or "hows it going today?" or any of that. My old friend he just looked at me and smiled said "Whadd'ya At?""
I WILL RAIN PAIN AND SUFFERING DOWN UPON YOUR POINTY LONGHAIRED HEAD IF YOU DON'T SHUT. THE. HELL. UP. ALAN!
Meeee-eeer? MEEEEER? MEEEEE-EEEER???
*repeated slaps at snooze button*
GODDAMNIT WHY WON'T THIS FUCKING SNOOZE BUTTON WORK?!
*tiny, squeaky* Mee-er?
.. Huh? Pixel? What's wrong, kitty?
At this point, I groggily opened my eyes and saw my cat laying next to me on the bed with the most sad, pathetic look on his little kitty face. I looked for the alarm clock, intent on pulling the goddamn battery out, upon which search I discovered that there was no alarm clock and my cat does not, in fact, have a snooze button between his ears. I'd been smacking him on the head in an effort to stop music that was only playing in my semi-somnolent brain. The meering was Pixel responding to my angry muttering and wondering what was wrong with his Mom.. only to be promptly smacked on the head for his concern. He has, thankfully, forgiven me. Or else he's plotting revenge. In either case, he's purring again.
I am currently seething in unfair anger at Great Big Sea for having catchy tunes. This hasn't stopped me from listening to them on repeat for the two hours since I've been awake.
In this instance, the groggy half-wake phase is relatively funny, because the only thing in my brain was perky music by a bunch of goofy Newfoundland b'yes and the only result was a confused, head-slapped kitty.**
Trust me when I say that it is usually much less funny, because the things in my head in that groggy half-awake phase are usually much more dire, and I'm just as incapable of telling reality from the dream state.
Still mad at Great Big Sea, though.
* - What Are You At - Great Big Sea
** - I don't know how the hell I didn't get the shit bitten out of me. I would react poorly if someone started slapping me on the head when all I was doing was asking if they were ok. My cat is a better person than I am. This is a fact.
Last night, I took a generic 25mg diphenhydramine HCL (generic Benadryl, y'all) in an effort to force grogginess at a reasonable hour. It kicked in around 1:45am and I popped in the mouth guard and lay me down to sleep the sleep of the just. Sleep happened. There were dreams, of which I remember nothing except Cher in a scary beehive hairdo, which may be a memory from a concert when I was tiny or made up out of whole cloth - this is CHER, so either is bloody likely. I love that unpredictable bitch. Gaga can eat herself raw - Cher was the original.
Today, conscious returned with noise.
"Whadd'ya at? How's she going buddy, Whadd'ya at todaaaay?"*
Shut up, Alan.
Meer?
"Well I was walking in the mainland city, and I was feeling so alone. I was looking for someone or thing to remind me of my home."
Shut. Up. Alan!
Meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeer!
*reaches over and slaps the snooze button on the alarm clock, right between the ears, resulting in blessed silence in which I start to drift off again*
"EVERYBODY MUST SAY WHADD'YA AT! ALL TOGEDDER NOW! WHADD'YA AT?! HOW'S SHE GOIN' BUDDY, WHADD'YA AT TODAYYYY?!"
SHUT THE FUCK UP, ALAN!
Meeeeeeeeeeeee-eeeer?
*another slap at the snooze button, and another moment of silence*
Never buying another alarm clock again as long as I live!
And of all the people I met down in the city or in the mall, I think I like my hometown friend the best one of them all! Because he didn't say "hello" or "hows it going today?" or any of that. My old friend he just looked at me and smiled said "Whadd'ya At?""
I WILL RAIN PAIN AND SUFFERING DOWN UPON YOUR POINTY LONGHAIRED HEAD IF YOU DON'T SHUT. THE. HELL. UP. ALAN!
Meeee-eeer? MEEEEER? MEEEEE-EEEER???
*repeated slaps at snooze button*
GODDAMNIT WHY WON'T THIS FUCKING SNOOZE BUTTON WORK?!
*tiny, squeaky* Mee-er?
.. Huh? Pixel? What's wrong, kitty?
At this point, I groggily opened my eyes and saw my cat laying next to me on the bed with the most sad, pathetic look on his little kitty face. I looked for the alarm clock, intent on pulling the goddamn battery out, upon which search I discovered that there was no alarm clock and my cat does not, in fact, have a snooze button between his ears. I'd been smacking him on the head in an effort to stop music that was only playing in my semi-somnolent brain. The meering was Pixel responding to my angry muttering and wondering what was wrong with his Mom.. only to be promptly smacked on the head for his concern. He has, thankfully, forgiven me. Or else he's plotting revenge. In either case, he's purring again.
I am currently seething in unfair anger at Great Big Sea for having catchy tunes. This hasn't stopped me from listening to them on repeat for the two hours since I've been awake.
In this instance, the groggy half-wake phase is relatively funny, because the only thing in my brain was perky music by a bunch of goofy Newfoundland b'yes and the only result was a confused, head-slapped kitty.**
Trust me when I say that it is usually much less funny, because the things in my head in that groggy half-awake phase are usually much more dire, and I'm just as incapable of telling reality from the dream state.
Still mad at Great Big Sea, though.
* - What Are You At - Great Big Sea
** - I don't know how the hell I didn't get the shit bitten out of me. I would react poorly if someone started slapping me on the head when all I was doing was asking if they were ok. My cat is a better person than I am. This is a fact.