Something incredible has happened.
It’s been just over a week since I took a sleeping tablet.
Sleep… it’s amazing. I didn’t realise how much I missed it.
Ever since the beginning of the After, sleep has been such a bitch. I didn’t sleep so much as die for a few hours, knocked out cold by muscle paralyzing sleeping pills that made me drool and sweat and saw me virtually unable to move from the position I fell asleep in.
But what a blessing those little orange pills (rope..) were. I didn’t care that I woke not feeling like I slept, or dreamt, or gone anywhere but the blackest, deepest part of my mind, where I replayed the last few minutes of my husband’s life over and over, where I got lost in the delusional hate in his eyes.
But that was better than before the pills, the first week or so.. when I couldn’t sleep without waking up sobbing from nightmares. When getting to sleep quite literally took hours, because every time I closed my eyes I’d see that blue shirt, that orange rope,the feel of the dead weight of his body swinging slightly, rope creaking, as I shook him (that feeling, his shirt beneath my hand… I’ll never forget it, as long as I live, it’s branded onto my brain, stuck there with the tar of trauma)…. the obsoletion that came with the pills, it was better than all that.
Anything would have been better than that.
But the last week or so…. I have slept. The only dreams I’ve had involve children’s TV, which, while not exactly awesome, is far preferable to nightmares.
I sleep, for hours. Ten hours here, another three hours there. I sleep peacefully, and I fall asleep the way I used to, in the Before- counting my blessings.
There may not be a whole lot of them, right now. But there’s enough to count.