Chapter Text
1/3/23
I'm once again sleepless.
I fear this is becoming a pattern.
Lose track of the night, realize it's 11 pm, start my wind-down.
After wind-down, do a few things here and there to make tomorrow easier, like straightening simple things up.
Results: it's 2 am and I still have to brush my teeth and take my meds.
Make sure the dog goes outside one last time and then trudge both of us upstairs.
Get him onto mom's bed and go on brushing me teeth and taking my meds.
Fall into bed, but my brain remains wide awake.
Scroll through TikTok and Tumblr to try to quiet the noise.
When that inevitably doesn't work, try a calming YouTube video, falling into daze of a soothing voice I've heard hundreds, if not thousands, of times before.
Finally my eyelids get heavy enough to close and my breathing slows.
Barking from downstairs.
Why the dog went down there I have no idea.
It's up to me to fix it, so I begrudgingly get out of bed to see what the hell he needs.
Try to take him outside, only to realize he's asking for treats or breakfast at 4 am.
He eats at 6:30 am at the earliest.
Get both of us back upstairs.
Fall back into bed, resume the video, and shut my eyes.
Twenty minutes.
More. Barking.
I try to ignore it and fall asleep.
My mom shouting for him, and that damn barking continuing.
Inevitably I'm the one who has to get up and fix it.
I shout louder than mom.
That doesn't work.
Rinse and repeat for another hour and it's 5 am.
I'm exhausted and I haven't slept.
Moms up early, earlier than she needs to be.
She goes downstairs to be with him and I follow shortly after because I'm hungry.
I vent my anger and frustrations at not having slept.
Mom blames my phone.
She explains how the dogs getting old and his mind might be going and I'm not allowed to be upset with him, as if I don't know these things.
I'm still allowed to be frustrated.
Right?
I wish I'd never taught him how to bark.
When things have settled I ask who's taking care of him in an hour.
It's 5:30 am.
Mom doesn't give me a straight answer, but it's one that makes it clear she wants to go back to bed.
I eventually say fuck it and tell her to go back to sleep.
I'm sitting on the couch, keeping the snot and the tears at bay.
Part of me doesn't understand why I'm crying.
The smarter part of me knows there's too many reasons to pin down just one.
Number one: I'm exhausted.
Number two: I'm angry that I have to be the one to sacrifice sleep while I'm on break to take care of the dog, and I'm angrier that I'm angry about it.
Number three: I'm angry that I haven't slept in of my own volition since I got home, and that was all I was looking forward to.
Number four: I have to write, or at the very least start, my research proposal and I can't start it if I'm getting no sleep.
Number five: I'm worried about this becoming a pattern and fucking me over for the semester. I can't afford another hit.
Number six: I'm sad because the one person I want comfort from is states away and is battling their own shit, so I feel guilty asking anything from them.
Number seven: I'm angry that my mother slept all weekend, necessary for her health, and I didn't get that luxury instead sacrificing hours of sleep, and she is still
expecting me to stay awake and take care of the dog. Why couldn't she just let me have this one fucking morning?
Number eight: I'm angry for being angry.
Number nine: I feel like I'm at my wits end and I think I'm depressed. The only thing that brings me a modicum of happiness is fucking housework of all things, and I
only get the motivation to do it at night.
Number ten: I'm tired of taking care of myself and the house. I just want to rest, but god forbid I get one morning to myself.
Number eleven: I feel guilty for being angry at my mom, especially because work is so crazy and she needs me to help her out with the dog and the house so she can
get to work, but I'm so fucking tired of it. I want to sleep in and be lazy for once goddammit.
Number twelve: As I sit here writing this I know that some of these are irrational, and I hate being irrational more than most things in this world. Why can't I just get a
fucking grip? I should be able to handle this, and yet here I am breaking down like a child?
It's currently just past 6 am.
Still 30 minutes until I can feed the dog.
And even after all that's said and done, I still can't go to sleep because there's a load of groceries coming in the mid-afternoon and I can't sleep through those.
I never get a break.
And some could argue that this is life.
Adulthood is just one big fucking disappointment.
But I don't want to live that way.
I don't want to live one let-down to the next.
I'm too tired to do anything about it right now.
So, good morning early birds and goodnight night owls.
I'm still here, awake.