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Tuesday, November 11, 2008

2 a.m.

Not sleeping yet.

Not that I am not tired - I am always tired - but that little pocket of time between lying down on the bed and actually falling asleep, is a tad scary. Scary because I am alone, unactivated, and it becomes awfully quiet. Suddenly I have to face my ever-present horrifying fears and pains, which I successfully keep at bay until this pocket of time occurs, by then which I have no choice. And so I look at falling asleep at night, with disdain.

Last week I had a panic attack during this pocket of time. Because I had no choice but to feel, a culmination of my lifetime's emotions came into one explosive grip of panic. I froze, my heart pounding, my hands and feet clenched, and barely breathing, I couldn't move. Which meant I couldn't get myself my medication. J was already long asleep next to me. But it was in the middle of the night, and he had to work the next day. If it was C, waking him would cause more anger and pain than any comfort or help elicited. But I had to remember this was even-tempered J, who told me time and again to call him for help whenever.

After what seemed like a whole rotation of thoughts on whether to wake J for help, I decided to, but I couldn't make a sound, nor move. I summoned up all my energy to speak; it came in a few laboured whispers which finally woke him.

"I am having a panic attack..."

Jolted by the emergency, he got up and said, "I'll get you your medicine." I swallowed my tablets whole, just on my saliva alone. Shushing me to sleep and soaking up my tears in his arms, I felt better eventually, and yes, I suppose I finally managed to fall asleep.

It's 2 a.m. now. Let's see how tonight goes.