I’ve been dealing with bouts of insomnia lately. My body goes through this a couple of times a year for some reason — long days and weeks of lying awake into the wee hours of the morning. By the time I finally find my way to a rem cycle, it’s about time for everyone else to get up.
Luckily, I can mostly deal with the aftermath. But it does play havoc with both the body and mind. I feel physically weak and mentally exhausted, as if something hasn’t been plugged in quite right. I have to use every ounce of energy to just concentrate on daily tasks. Don’t put me in the kitchen during these sleep-deprived days — it’s dangerous and you will more than likely get burned something-or-other for dinner.
The worst part about all of this? I can’t write. I can barely put one thought in front of another, let alone channeling the muse and eloquently carrying my characters from one crisis to another. If I remember my to-list or how to get home from driving to the store, I call it a minor miracle.
But writing well? Not likely. On these days I can try to just write… and fix the crap later. But that tired-to-the-bone feeling makes it hard to motivate myself beyond my day job of chauffeur; errand girl; personal shopper; and zoo keeper. 😉
Sleep… perchance to dream… even a nightmare would be preferable at this point.