Have you ever gone to bed with the dried, sticky sweat still on your body from a workout? No? You’re not disgusting? I don’t recommend it. It’s that sneaky reminder that: depression is back, time to put your gloves on.
I woke up with a panicky prognosis from my Oura ring:
“Your biometrics show major signs of something straining your body.”
Oh, good, I thought I was having a panic attack all night.
You know that kind of sleep where you make your person switch who is big spoon / little spoon repeatedly? That was us. I couldn’t relax or feel okay in my own skin. I didn’t dream, or if I did, it didn’t stay with me. And I hate not dreaming.
I woke up in the middle of my wimpy attempt at sleep to complete darkness. Removed my silky eye cover, and turned on a sleep meditation as softly as I could make it begin to coax me. Only it didn’t. I was doing the thing where I can’t turn off the writing in my brain. Sentences roll out one after another and they are perfect and they need to be written and I almost reach for my phone to open my Note App because how will I ever remember these perfect sentences but I
fall asleep.
(Daily Writing 017)
Thoughts?