Admittedly, it’s been hard to come back after my last post (Trying to Sleep After the Boston Marathon). I can bullshit all day about the fact that I’ve been working super duper hard to try and test out of a class next week, but it’s also been hard to come back from a blog post like that one. It was dark.

Every day after I posted that last blog I wished I had erased it. That’s all really, really personal and although I love you all it’s hard to put so much of yourself on the interweb and not be lying. The good part is that as everyone predicted, it did eventually make me feel a little better, and people were able to read the story and maybe not mention it to me or ask me questions about it anymore. The last thing I want to do as we have a couple beers or have dinner together is talk about terrorism.

So how have I been sleeping? Better. My valium levels were left untouched because I know that when I eventually need to stop taking them it’s going to have to be a gradual step down and I hate change. I’ve been waking up earlier and falling asleep a little easier. I told my mom that I started the Mediterranian Diet but that was a lie. I hate olives.

I did have a weird experience the other night which is worth sharing. In the span of time between 10:30-7:00 I woke up five times. The first two times were to go to the bathroom because I ate a bunch of grapes before bed (ha, personal information is just coming out now!) and because I’m suddenly in my late 80s. The last three times I woke up because of nightmares or general dream confusion.

At one point I woke up, sat straight up in bed and said out loud “I have to go make that salad”. I untangled myself from the sheets (because lately I can’t sleep unless I’m wrapped up like a burrito and my body pillow is safely esconced on the floor) and started walking towards the door.

When I stood up I said, “the salad has many ingredients”. This is actually true. Well, it’s true that salads do have many ingredients, but it’s also true that I was quasi-awake and talking to myself out loud and that I actually remember it.

But with every step towards the door the need and rush to make this salad was fading more and more out of my head until by the time I reached the door knob I couldn’t remember what a salad was, what you would put into it or why I needed to get up in the middle of the night to make one.

I stood at the door for a long time trying to remember why I got up in the first place but I couldn’t piece it all together, so I walked back around to my side of the bed and laid down again. I remember telling myself that it was okay, I could make a salad tomorrow if I needed to but I was really upset.

I apologized to Kevin, who of course was sleeping and didn’t need or want a salad at 3 in the morning, and closed my eyes.

When it’s dark in our room and I’m half in the dream-bag I sometimes don’t understand anything. I have to keep telling myself that I’ll do it in the morning, that it’s okay to procrastinate a bit. The next morning I lie there, half in the valium-bag and try to piece together the great mystery of the night before. Why was it salad? Why did I announce to the room that “salad has many ingredients” like I was teaching a robot what food is? Why did the immediacy of making a salad vanish by the time I walked from my bed to the door?

I have no fucking idea.

So, welcome back.