It’s 3am. 3.37am to be precise. It’s dark. It’s quiet. It’s so darn quiet, there’s a ringing in my ears like some far off machinery is at work, creating tomorrow’s events.
And I’m here, writing, unable to sleep – which is unusual for me, though of late, I’ve been having these ‘episodes’ during the night. Waking up and being attacked by my Chimp. Not literally, I hasten to add. There are no caged primates in my room. But there’s at least one in my head. And it knows exactly which buttons to press in order to cause me severe anxiety.
And I let him.
His name’s Charlie and I’ve known him now for about three years. We get along fine – well, we should…he’s been with me forever. But I only met him a few years back. More about him later.
What I’m struggling with now is WHY I’m wanting to write this in the middle of the night when I should be sound asleep, getting ready for the onslaught of Monday.
Oh – don’t get me wrong… By anyone’s standards, I don’t have a particularly stressful life. I used to have but then I put myself through a lot of stress, changing my world so it suited me better, losing a lot of money in the process but gaining a more positive, desirable stance – which is where I am now.
So I’m happy, right?
No. I’m not.
And this is why I’m writing this – because I SHOULD be happy. Or ‘happier’ at least.
But I don’t feel it!
I’m not dreadfully unhappy. But I’m not happy either. It’s a strange in-between world that leaves me unfulfilled.
It manifests itself almost as a dual-personality. I feel like there are two people inside me. One that makes the right decisions, one that makes the wrong ones. What to eat, whether to exercise, how much to drink… You know the score.
Guess which one wins? Yup. And so continues the downward spiral that confirms my doubts – that I’m not in control; that I am overweight; that I drink too much; that I’m going to get ill…
It feels like a plane on a collision course with the earth and I’m unable to pull it up.
Like it’s inevitable.
Yet I know WHAT I need to do – that’s the rational side of me. But Mr. Hyde seems to be able to thwart all his feeble attempts at taking control. Why is this?