texting | pen, paper, and crazy

(I am going to attempt some humor now. I know I am not usually of that persuasion. I’m trying to be more positive lately.)

I am struck by the hell-beast known as insomnia about 3-4 times a week on average- which I think is rather normal (or even low) for someone dealing with mental-health and depression issues.

However, normally this hell-beast simply takes a nibble from me and then departs to the greener pastures of musicians, emo-poets, addicted gamers, and computer programmers.

Tonight, however, the hell-beast has decided I shall provide a full 8, 9, perhaps even 10 course meal.
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10:03pm: I arrive home from my lovely night with Texas and chat briefly with Shadow Dragon about our days. Let Zoe out so she can sniff a lot of things, run around, stand around, and then finally decided “Oh yeah! I have to pee!”. She then proceeds to drink a gallon of water.

10:50pm: Settle down in my bedroom, write a post about my night because, gosh darn it, I am turning over a new leaf and will not have a negative post at the top of my homepage any longer. Starting texting with Army about our crazy days.
Check Facebook.
Zoe starts being slightly bothersome, then obnoxious, slowly escalating into full blown bugging-the-shit-outta-me. I realize she has to pee that gallon she drank.

11:00pm: Go outside with Zoe to make sure she won’t bark and piss off the neighbors. Bring phone with me, continuing my banter-fest with Army. We are joking about me getting a tattoo that’s insulting to Obama (he’s conservative- but my opinion isn’t necessary the same) on my butt so he can have obscenely hilarious sexual antics.
I watch Zoe walk around the yard, bring me her stuffed hedgehog, then run in circles for a bit before deciding to pee. We go back inside and I firmly tell she isn’t going out again because “Mommy has to sleep, dangit.”
Ha.

11:30pm: Technically I haven’t turned off the netbook and attempted to lay down, but I don’t feel my normal drowsy. Check Facebook. Check a couple blogs I follow. Comment here and there. Continue snark-fest with Army via text. Our conversation is occasionally stalled by him completing a run (he’s on shift with the ambulance company he works for). He is complimenting me on my ability to actually get him to laugh verbally. Apparently insomnia makes me semi-funny.

12:15pm: Check Facebook. Not as many insomniac friends on as I’d hoped. Start a game of crossword puzzle on my phone. Find a couple obvious ones before determining that words are stupid. Start looking at trashy websites such as TextsFromLastNight. Check Facebook.
Meanwhile, since my light is still on, Zoe is attempting to be cute by rolling on my netbook’s keyboard and gnawing on my toes. After the fourth or fifth gnawing, I push her off the bed (lovingly, of course).

1:00pm: By this time I am truly frustrated. It occurs to me however, that I have not turned anything off. Of course! That is the problem. I check Facebook before I turn off my light and shut down my netbook.
I lay on my pillow.
I can hear my hair scratching as I breath in and out. I adjust to a different pillow. Nope…still scratching. Very loudly.
I contemplate hunting down the creators of my pillowcase, which is supposed to be soft and silky, and ask them why the heck is my hair scratching SO FREAKIN’ LOUDLY ON IT??
Realize I have a dog.
Call Zoe up on the bed. She dutifully responds, but doesn’t want to be interesting. Instead she curls up against my side adorably and grunts grumpily when I try to pet or reach her belly for a rub. I give up.
I grab my phone and check Facebook before opening up the crossword puzzle again. I solve it and it informs me that it only took me 2139 seconds (my best time being 232). I do not click “New Game”.
Roll around a bit. Zoe decides to hop back down on the floor.
Check my phone to see if Army has texted back. Nope. Must be a long run this time.

1:45pm: Decide that maybe I have to pee. Get up and use bathroom. Return to bedroom and sit dejectedly before deciding “To hell with it” and turning the netbook back on.
Check Facebook. Check WordPress.
Notice there’s an update from Becca over and LadyorNot! Yay! Read it.

1:55pm: Well. That didn’t take long. It did make me laugh though, which is good. Decide to comment when less insomnia-inebriated. Although…Army did comment that I seem to be amusing so sleep deprived.

1:57pm: Decide to write a post about my insomnia issues. Hope it will be semi-amusing. Check Facebook.

2:00pm: Write post in between texting Army. And checking Facebook. Wonder briefly if I have a problem. Decide I just really care about my friends and family. And it’s not like I’m doing anything besides skimming the main news feed. I mean, if I were truly addicted I would be looking up specific people’s profiles, wouldn’t I? Wouldn’t I??
…check Grey’s page specifically to see how he’s been doing since we haven’t gotten a text in a couple days.
He seems fine- innocuous update about his laptop finally getting fixed from earlier this evening. When normal people are awake.
Wonder if there’s anyone else we could text at this hour. Nope. Army is pretty much the only other nightowl who will accept non-emergency middle-of-the-night texts without being mad about being “woken up” or something.

2:20pm: Oh yeah, I was writing a post.

2:36pm: Finish up post. Check Facebook one more time.

2:40pm: Hope doing this will somehow get rid of the insomnia hell-beast….

2:45pm: Laugh waaaaay to hard at this picture:

Laughing for like, 4 whole minutes. That tired.

Decided to add to post and share the funny.

The end.

Hopefully.

God I just want to sleep.

It took a couple days for me to get the courage up to write this post.

Germany technically replied to my email Saturday, but I’ve been dwelling and dodging and playing that ostrich-head-in-the-sand that I do so well.

She’s upset.

Yay, I’m clairvoyant. Texas said she wouldn’t upset because we’re best friends and best friends are supportive. But my tummy-guts-feeling wins again. She’s pissed.

She said I’m trash.

I’ve never had anyone call me that. Not even when Texas probably thought something close to that last year when she was angry we got pregnant. But she never called us anything like that.

And to have Germany call me that….

I was a mess Saturday night. And I was very ill most of Sunday- at least partially psychosomatic I’m sure.

It’s sort of surprising who first brought me out of a thought process that was going to turn self-damaging. Army. I know, right? Mr. Emotionally Void and Unavailable. It’s like he’s a different person since we stopped living together.
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This was our text exchange:
Me: Well, Germany thinks I’m a she-devil that’s ruined Jeff. it’s a surprisingly hard blow to have a best friend think you’re trash.
Him: What happened?
Me: I emailed her briefly, updating her on my life, like I normally do, and apparently now I’m horrible. I dunno. You don’t think I’m garbage, do you? Is that why you didn’t ever really want more than FWB?
Him: I do not think you are garbage. And the FWB thing is because of me and what I’m capable of. Not you.
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Obviously not some amazingly romantic talk, but at least encouraging. And then Shadow Dragon and Puppy were nice enough to watch a movie with me Saturday evening (“Identity”, appropiately, lol) and that helped a lot.

But still….a best friend calling you trash is hard to swallow.

Maybe I am trash and I should just accept it.