Bipolar ThoughtsBlogDepressionFamilyMedication

Sleep Walking

I wake up four to five times a night. And that is with taking a sleeping pill, Trazadone and sometimes Ambien and Klonopin.

Usually it is to take a piss or grab a drink, my Lithium gives me drymouth and makes me have to pee. Isn’t that a fun game.

But some nights I’m simply uncomfortable in bed. I go lay on the couch and that helps sometimes, but I really desperately crave a space where I am truly comfortable for eight hours a night, without interruption. My snoring doesn’t help. Numerous times my wife rolls me over so I stop.

I guess I crave comfort in everything I do. Who doesn’t? But one of the odd things about this calm that I crave is that it often comes at the expense of my family, my ambitions, and my creativity. In fact, it almost always does. I’m calmer relaxing on the couch than working on something that might get me somewhere. I go to bed early enough that I don’t have to put my daughter down to sleep. I push off all chores and responsibilities until I am too anxious to actually accomplish them. And none of that seems too abnormal, until you talk to me about my fears of leading a meaningless life, of being stuck where I am at forever.

When my daughter was first born I stopped taking my sleeping pill so I could be up with her and feed her during the night. About three months in I talked it over with my wife and went back on my sleeping pill and have been a nighttime zombie since then, leaving her to do all the work. She never complains, just like with just about everything in our lives.

I wish I was more available for my family, instead of the guy who wakes up occasionally go grab a sip of water and take a leak.