the boogie man finally moved out

I suppose it's no secret I've had trouble sleeping for months now and that I take quite a bit of medication to alleviate the problem. My inability to stay asleep started at the beginning of January when I went weeks getting only a few hours of sleep a night. I finally went to the doctor and started taking medication to help me sleep.

Something many people don't know is that sleep medications affect people in different ways. I started on a med called ambien, which allowed me to get in a couple extra hours a night but wasn't preventing me from waking up every hour or so. Rather than up the dose (which was really already maxed, but she said we could safely double it?) the doctor told me to take it as usual and then take another one if I woke up during the night. Sounded like a good plan.

Well, when Joe and I were at his sister's in LA a week later I was having a very difficult time (although I would quickly get worse when we got home). Sleeping in an unfamiliar place isn't exactly therapeutic when you're already having problems, but Becky and Fonsi had done a great job of setting up a room for us. It was comfortable and private. So I took my meds like a good little girl and tried to put on a happy face while we were there.

One night I took my ambien and lay down to sleep with Joe. He fell asleep immediately, so I just tried to turn my brain off and let the pill work. It's hard to describe what happened, but I found myself in this weird in-between state. It felt like my body was asleep because I had no control over skeletal muscle function; I distinctly remember not being able to move my arms or legs. But I was still awake, still thinking, still seeing, still hearing. I didn't understand it at all. Then I remember turning my head (or at least thinking I did) to the side. I could see everything that was on that side of the room - the door, the night stand, the carpet, etc. There was one thing, however, that couldn't possibly have been there. I was staring at myself.

I'm not sure I can explain how horrifying that was for me. I sat up sweating and hyperventilating and absolutely terrified. I woke Joe up and tried to explain what I'd experienced. He calmed me down and had me take another ambien and I made him stay up with me until it kicked in. I was afraid to let myself fall asleep because I didn't want to see that again, but eventually the meds knocked me out.

When I woke up the next day I was still scared. I thought I'd been hallucinating. It was too real to be a dream, which made it even worse. If I'd been hallucinating it meant that I was extremely bad off, much more so than I'd thought. I called my psychiatrist immediately after waking up and left a message.

She called back and explained that what I'd experienced was mostly likely something called hynagogic paralysis, more commonly called sleep paralysis. Sleep paralysis occurs when the brain awakes from a REM state, but the bodily paralysis persists. This leaves the person fully conscious, but unable to move. In addition, the state may be accompanied by terrifying hallucinations which cause an acute sense of danger.

So it turns out I probably was hallucinating, but not in the oh-my-god-I'm-psychotic-and-will-have-to-be-sedated kind of way. But that didn't take away the fact that I was now scared out of my mind to go to sleep at night. I was afraid of the dark, afraid of my dreams, and afraid it would happen again. Since then I haven't been able to fall asleep without Joe with me or without the TV on, no matter how medicated I am (my psychiatrist switched me to an extended release medication, ambien CR, which I take a shit ton of but I no longer care that I can't sleep without it).

Well, last night something fantastic happened. Joe is out of town for work so I've been sleeping by myself all week, but never without the TV or a light on. But last night I was feeling good about going to sleep; I wasn't afraid to turn off the lights and be alone. So I turned off the TV and the light and tried to fall asleep like a normal person (after taking my medication, which I've been given a little more license over).

At first it was a little rocky - part of the reason I was unable to sleep before was because I couldn't turn my brain off...I'd think about anything and everything. But soon I found myself drifting off (which means I quit drifting, because if you realize you are drifting it means you've woken up to realize it, but I eventually drifted off totally). And then I woke up...because my alarm was going off. I'd successfully gone to sleep with a light or a tv or a Joe, stayed asleep, and didn't have any dreams or nightmares. This is a big deal, a very good big deal.

I've kind of come to terms with the fact that I'm going to need sleep medication for a long time, if not forever, at least intermittently. But I'm ecstatic that I am finally able to fall asleep and wake up normally, without fear, and feeling like I got a good nights sleep.

Actually, there are a lot of very good big deals going on for me lately. I've felt so much more like myself. I'm smiling more than I'm not smiling, social situations don't freak me out as much, I'm taking less and less xanax, and I generally feel good. My sense of humor, while forever sarcastic, is less cynical and more present. I have the concentration to read a book without having to re-read every paragraph. My appetite has stabilized, I don't have to be dragged out of the house, and I'm excited about things again. I have a few down moments here and there; there are still some things that automatically send me into panic, but that's ok. Those situations are manageable because I know how to help myself when they happen and because I finally know that I can get out of the hole I was in. I may take a lot of medication and still have to see my therapist once a week, but so long as my liver can stand it and my therapist is helpful I'm completely willing to keep on truckin'. I feel...well, I actually feel! And the feeling is finally good more often than not. :)