I was hoping to sleep well tonight. Not so, I guess. New med still screwing with my sleep schedule. Maybe I’ll get some rest tomorrow night.
It was a chill, restful evening after a stomach churning levels of stressful day at work. I’m hoping things will get better soon. I keep wildly vacillating between braking into tears and being so bloody manic/upbeat/cheerful I want to strangle myself just to save everyone else from it.
In other news, I found this gorgeous feather outside of work today. I don’t know diddly squat about birds, so I haven’t the foggiest what it could belong to other than “bird”.
Anyway. I’m going to try to sleep at least a little. Or just stare at the inside of my eyelids until my alarm goes off.
As I was born in the wee hours of the morning, it hasn’t quite yet been another full day, I suppose.
I can’t sleep.
Not that much a shock, as I’m still adjusting to the new meds. I even spoke to the cute pharmacist today, to see his opinion on adjusting the timing. He agreed that taking it at the morning was likely best for me with how I’ve been reacting to it.
I think the worst part is the fear that’s is another manic episode. Because I’m running on scant hours of sleep and yet I’m not all that tired. I wake up obnoxiously awake, as my coworker enjoyed telling me today. I was too cheerful for Monday.
Meanwhile, my mind is literally screaming incoherently for hours on end and no amount of anti-anxiety meds seem to be of assistance. I can’t focus to save my life and all I want is a good night’s sleep and to be able to focus. Neither seems possible right now. But I have my follow up on the tenth and I’ll make it till then. It’s not like I’ve not gone a fortnight on seven hours of sleep before.