Basically, I crash face down around 7pm out of the consistent exhaustion that comes with the condition – and then I have the joy of lying in bed with my eyes wide open, usually from around midnight to three am. Three is when I tend to give up, and then I stumble out of the bedroom to begin the entire process again.
It’s perplexing to me. I’ve dealt with depression, anxiety… all the fun things that come with being a human in the vast land of Earth. But in the past, I’ve slept through it all.
I think I’m just sick of winter. Here on the farm, I’m nestled deep in the mountains. I realize it’s cliche to complain about the weather… but February in New England is a real bitch. Since coming back from Australia over three years ago now, I was in Manhattan. And while it’s a mere two hours south of where I’m at now, the difference in temperature is extraordinary.
I’m jealous of people who can deal with cold. I need grass under my feet and sun on my face, 200 layers of clothing just to get the mail doesn’t suit me.
Similar to sleep, spring can’t find me fast enough.