Thoughts of an anxious insomniac

It’s that time already. Where has the day gone? Here we go again. From the moment my head hits the pillow, my brain hits the roof. Suddenly I question reality and everything I have come to learn over the past 24 years. The ‘what if’s’ take over and suddenly I’m not myself anymore, I’m an anxious, nervous wreck.

It’s supposed to be the time I relax. It’s supposed to be the time I take for myself. It’s supposed to be the time to recover and recharge for the day ahead, yet it is everything it is not supposed to be.

Is it me? Do I need to see someone about this? Is it a medical issue? Am I doing something wrong? Maybe everyone has this issue, I’m just the only one to consider it worthy of mentioning.

I turn on the TV, hoping for that sudden wave of fatigue to wash my worries away, but it doesn’t come. I try to think of peaceful and happy thoughts, but they only provide temporary relief.

So I ask myself. What’s the difference? Why is this happening now? There are two recurring factors, I assure myself. Routine and mental stimulation. I’ve come to realise that a break in routine, or lack of, can cause this overnight torture. A lack of mental stimulation, a lack of work, a lack of challenge, often sends my mind into overdrive without the ability to switch off.

Now I know the problem, how do I fix it, I ask myself. Well, I have the rest of the night to think it over.

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