I gave myself this weekend to fight my funk.  I prescribed a combination of sleep, couch time, and catching up to try and clear my head.  Sleep would kill the apathy I have for everything right now.  Relaxing couch time to decompress, to let go of stress.  Getting stuff done around the house, tying up loose ends and being caught up will give me less to stress about next week.  It’s the best plan I could have made to try and combat this cloud that’s been hanging around all week.  I can’t change the big things that are stressing me out, but I can do these steps to make it easier to handle.  I went into it trying to believe that by Monday morning I would be ready to do this life again.

It’s not working.  Instead of feeling more ready to put up the fight next week I feel like I’m drowning.  Sleep is a mess because my neck and back are on fire.  I can’t get comfortable enough in bed to fall asleep, but I pass out on the couch when ever I lay down.  Couch sleep is probably causing half of the knots in my back.  An insane amount of stress is causing the rest, and the heart palpitations.  Ever have those?  They hurt in a way I can’t even describe.  Besides the uncomfortable sleep, I have the dreams.  Dream isn’t the best word for these, you have to be sound asleep to dream.  This is my brain, screaming, while I toss and turn.  Do you know how long it’s been since I had a full eight hours of sleep?  If my face isn’t giving it away, it’s been months.  It’s a vicious cycle when the stress won’t let you sleep, and the lack of sleep makes you unable to deal with stress.

I passed out on the couch seven hours ago while waiting to see if I was going to be stood up tonight.  I woke up three hours ago and played the “Depressed Asshole” card to get myself out of the other obligation I had.  I crawled in bed, cranked up the heating pad, and prayed for sleep while I watched the Flickr pictures scroll across this screen.  An hour and a half later I finally drifted off.  The phone started ringing, and I was annoyed as I rolled around looking for it.  What, do you want to see if I’ve killed your dog, or bitch because I didn’t come out this weekend?  What?  Picture Caller ID is the best invention ever, even in my angry sleep haze I smiled when I saw his face.

Hearing his destroyed voice on Monday is a part of what made the last week so unbearable.  Knowing that he is alone in this and that there is nothing I can do to help has weighed on my heart all week.  Our third gets frustrated with me that I allow other people’s problems to affect me so much.  But I can’t help it, there’s no in between with me.  I care, or I don’t.  I’ve avoided talking to our third all week because of my mood.  Historically he doesn’t handle me well when I get like this, and he’s in the same boat I am, our boy is hurting and we can’t help.

The call that woke me was the one I have been dreading.  He and I are so similar, it’s a big part of the reason we became such fast friends.  It’s also the reason I worry so very much about him.  The silence is hard in this situation, but knowing him the way I know myself, every phone call while he’s in this is a sign of how bad it is.  It’s four in the morning where he is, and he’s driving around trying to wear himself out.  It’s one in the morning here at home, and I’m going to crawl in bed and try to sleep until Monday.  I have no one who can, or should have to, handle me when I’m like this.