My life there and afterwards



Sleep is optional,

didn’t you know?

Our work’s for God,

so if you’re low

on energy,

it’s sin.

It became normal. I was always tired. I left, and I was still tired. Always.

Sleep was optional, even when I had the option, I couldn’t.

It was such a habit to not sleep.

Therapy. Neurofeedback. Expressing and dealing with all kinds of things.

Sleep started coming. In fits and starts. It was a cause for celebration on the rare times I got 8 hours. 5 was normal. 4 was do-able. 6 was good. 7 was excellent. 8 was celebratory.


Then, it started to shift.

But even then I would sabotage myself and stay up late, get up early to practice avoidance in the form of on-line gaming.

Avoidance. A coping habit. A protective strategy to survive. It worked well for me when I was in. Not so well now that I am out.

More therapy, talk, tears, release.

Now I’m on the other side of the fence. Still near it, though. Close enough that 8 hours is not normal yet, but 6 and 7 are. Smiley face. 8 is bliss.

Part of me doesn’t want to sleep. Waste of time. Those night hours are the only ones that are “mine”. (Cult-coping strategy)

Light-bulb moment. I feel good when I get enough rest. When I feel good, I can enjoy my day. I feel like doing things instead of just existing. Duh. But not “duh” when you have had to cope with trauma for so long.

Now most of me wants to sleep so I can feel good the next day and enjoy my life. YEAH!!!


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