“When you have insomnia, you’re never really awake, but you’re never really asleep” – Tyler Durden
Something like that
I’ve never been able to sleep in exam rooms while waiting for the time to finish. I’ve never been able to sleep in cars or airplanes, and I’ve never had a nap.
I’m lying in bed. It’s 23:26, and I spent two hours at the gym tonight. I’m trying to replace my sleeping medication (seroquel) with exercise: I’m exhausted. I still can’t sleep.
I close my eyes and begin dozing, but there’s something basic missing. There’s this mystical moment where you’re no longer dozing, but properly asleep and that switch is a fizzling broken thing that can’t flip to the off position. It’s like a pregnancy where there’s never a transition from inhuman thing to human foetus. You end up with an alien aberration that doesn’t know what it was supposed to be. This unsleep is only a mewling caricature of almost-sleep – the perpetual doze, Sisyphus on the hill.
Exhaustion is irrelevant and mixed metaphors only go to show the pointlessness of trying to fix the problem through a paradigm shift.