Monday, December 3, 2012

Guns, Chocolate, Sleep Magik

Phobias grow quite excitably when the soil is right.  My soil has tended to be ripe for them of late, though I do not know why.  My current irrationality toward death has manifested itself in many forms over the past months.  First, it was just a plain ole nightly panic attack.  Those abated a bit with handfuls of pills.  But now, it has returned with a vengeance in the setting of my dog's nightly backyard jaunt.

She's been absurdly predictable in that regard since the day we brought her home back in 1999.  She's old as dirt now, and about as excitable, but still predictable all the same.  Every night.  Just as I crawl under the covers.  Doesn't matter the time.  Nor the daylight or lack of it.  All that matters is that everyone else in the house is asleep and I am in the process of crawling under the covers.  

I've tried to wait on her.  Stay up, you know.  Wait around for it.  I've tried forcing her out the back door.  Nope.  Nada.  I am now positive that her detrusor contractions are directly and invariably tied to how much of my naked legs are currently under my covers.  It's an inalienable fact.

So what does all that have to do with my death phobia?  Well.  Now (and it's been building over months, so it  is not a 'suddenly' kinda thing), I am terrified that there is someone waiting on my back porch to attack me when I am letting the dog out.  Or letting her in.  Either way.  Phobia is the same.  I am terrified.  I unlock the door and let her out.  I immediately slam the door and lock it, knowing that at any of the nanoseconds between the time I open the door and slam the door, someone has free access to pushing themselves through my back door and killing me.  And kill me, they will!  They don't want money.  They don't wanna rape me.  They don't want stuff.  They wanna kill my ass.  Same with letting her back in.  Unlock the door, ohshit ohshit ohshit ohshit ohshit (she's a 13-year-old basset hound, it takes her a while) ohshit ohshit ohshit ohshit, SLAM, lock clicks... Whew... I've averted certain death for one more day. 

What makes it worse is that I am not 100% alert, or even awake really, when all this is going down.  You know that part on Paranormal Activity where that chick stares at the bed for hours?  According to my family, this is the kind of shenanigans I get into at night.  I also eat.  I will wake up in the morning with crumbs in the bed.  Or food wrappers on the couch.  I will wake up to my kids telling stories of Mom sitting on the couch at 3 in the morning with her eyes wide open. 

And yes, by the time I actually crawl in the bed at night, I am not 100% all there.  It all gets real fuzzy, and there is a point after which I cannot get up or I will pass out.  I have passed out before letting the dog out.  It's totally screwed up.  All of a sudden, everything goes black and BAM, I'm on the floor.  Kind of like when you have low blood sugar.  The last time was so weird because every time I tried to lift my head off the floor, it would go BAM right back to the floor.  I tried 3 or 4 times to get up before I was actually able to, and I wound up crawling on all fours back to bed. 

So, you know, when I let the dog out, it's kind of like my awake mind and my REM mind are meeting in the middle.... in that sweet spot where the magic happens.  I used to have sleep paralysis when I was a teenager.  This that happens now is actually much less frightening than that, at least I can move now.  Though, last night the man did come.  The man waiting to kill me on my back porch.  Yep.  He was totally there.  Grabbed me by the hair with a gun.... but he didn't kill me.... he just told me to go back to bed.  He was gone when I woke up. 

Is it possible for sleep to drive someone crazy?  I mean, you know drugs do it.  And alcoholism.  They call it "substance-induced mood disorder."  I wonder if it is possible to have a "sleep-induced mood disorder." What am I supposed to say, "Oh, I'm sorry.  I can't sleep anymore.  I go crazy when I'm asleep." 

Pfftt.....  Apparently, it's the only time I can eat chocolate without making myself feel guilty as shit about it.  At least there's that.



  1. I just had to change up my meds so i'm in insomnia mode. I can't eat crap late at night either. I have the body chemistry of a five-year-old.

    That's the only RHCP i like.

    1. I can honestly say I averted (however slightly) the total uncoolness of the 80s. I was listening to RHCP way before this album, same with REM and a buncha other shit that painted me as some shade of rogue. I even remember the moment I found out Blister in the Sun was about masturbation, and I made sure to sing it just a little bit louder during 5th grade lunch period, back when nary a soul in my whole middle school knew what the fuck the Violent Femmes were. Now Wendy's is hocking their nasty ass burgers to the tune of masturbation on the down-low. OMG... I am so old.... Though, BSSM totally did it for me. Totally. When this album came out, I was pretty much a lost cause. That's when the nose ring came. It was all downhill from there.