Last night was a night that many with anxiety would probably find familiar. It was a night where the worries of tomorrow invaded the night. Actually, if I am being honest it was a night when tomorrow and the day after that and the day after that and so on invaded the night. Each worry chasing the next around in my head at an hour where the was literally nothing I could do about it.
This is far from the first time that this happened, and it almost certainly won’t be the last. Yet that doesn’t make it any easier when it does happen. I try to comfort myself, come up with a plan to address the many concerns, but then I worry what if the plan doesn’t work? What then? And I worry that all the worrying I’m doing is going to make it harder to do the things I need to the next day, which of course they will because I am not sleeping. I am not sleeping. I am worrying, even though I know how ridiculous it is to worry about things that for the most part are everyday inconveniences and that also can’t be solved at 11:45 at night. At 12:30 in the morning. At 1 AM, etc.
The clock hands chase themselves around the clock face as my worries do the same in my head. I toss and turn as if there is a magical position that can somehow drain these worries from my mind. In this regard, my weighted blanket is actually helpful, as it reduces tossing and turning and makes me feel secure in my bed. And eventually, it helps me drift into sleep.
The worries are of course still there in the morning. And I worry that the worrying means I’m not getting better. I worry about what would have happened if I hadn’t had the calming exercises and the weighted blanket and the medicine and all the other tools.
Except I know what would have happened. It was what I was like before I got help, when I stared at the clock for hours, lucky to get four hours of actual rest before the next day actually did invade my waking hours. And I take comfort in the fact this is at least better.
I take comfort in the fact that even though mental health treatments are far from perfect, it is better than nothing, and that I am so much better off now than I once was. So if you are familiar with these restless nights, know that you aren’t alone. And if you are on the fence about getting help, know that it might not be perfect, but it does help, and it is far better than the alternative, which in my case included driving myself up a wall mentally as I sleeplessly stared at the clock.
Oh, and as always, thanks for reading.