#sleep deprivation
I hate that I’m always so alone, especially on nights like this where my depression gets the best of me and suddenly I realize how alone I am. I dont have anyone to turn to when this happens, I don’t have people who are actually there for me. No one ever knows what to do and I just feel like even more of a burden. I feel like a burden all the time and I dont know how to reach out to people when I feel like the world is coming down around me and it feels like the only thing that will make it stop is just to stop existing. I dont want to feel alone. I just want to be able to connect to other people without feeling like theres something wrong with me, like I’m broken.
My mental health has never been worse and I’m crying alone at 2am bc I don’t have people there for me and I don’t know how to change that.
You love them with all of your heart. They leave you broken in pieces. They force you to watch as they move on, never to be whole again.
A break from life would be nice. Especially if it were a never ending one.
Im not someone who thinks a lot about suicide but the picture keeps crossing my mind tho.
It’s been really bad lately and my urge to self harm is increasing with every day that I lay in bed and can’t sleep. I don’t know how long I will be able to take this anymore. My anxiety is high , my depression is dark, my mental health zero. It’s getting bad. Like fucking bad.
I don’t want to be in that dark narrow place again. I know what it is like to be there. I don’t like it. But the road is never ending and the finish line seems to be there. It’s really hard to be holding on to that little light that is left but slowly is vanishing.
I’m tired, exhausted, Empty, numb and in pain. I know I’m not the only one feeling this way, but still it’s hard feeling this way not knowing what to do to feel better , I mean at least being able to not feel guilty about everything and nothing. I would get help , but at the moment there is no way I’m getting the help I need.
Right now i just want to be sure I’ll wake up tomorrow morning. Or not. I don’t even know.
That’s the point. I’m confused if I want to live or not. I don’t wanna die. But living is painful. So what do I want. I don’t know if I have the strength to keep going and constantly feel like I’m suffocating and drowning trying to scream but instead my lungs fill up with water and I’m no longer able to breath.
But i don’t know if I have the strength to let go once and for all, leaving my mom and my loved ones behind either. It’s difficult because I want to keep going but the is just no more energy left for doing so.
I’m carrying a bag of stones. Stones I carry with me all day long and when I’m at home I finally break down because I can’t take that weight.
When I lay in bed the only thing I feel is a weight on my chest that makes me breath heavily and panic.
Im alone. I can’t talk to anyone. The first question I get is „why“. Oh god if I knew why. That’s a question I ask myself a lot. „Why me?“ „why now?“ „why again?“ „why is this happening?“. I have no answer to that question. It makes me anxious getting that question and not having an explanation. How can I reach out for help if I do not have any reason to feel the way I do.
I don’t understand. And so don’t the others.
They don’t understand my struggle. I have a home, family, friends, food,.. more than a lot of people on this planet have and yet I feel lost, lonely and empty. Somebody that did not feel those things and this darkness can not understand how it feels. They can not understand how tiring living is.
They can not understand how difficult it is to put on a mask everyday so nobody asks you “what’s wrong?” And so you don’t have to answer with “I don’t know.” That’s the point. Again. I don’t know what’s wrong. Too much is wrong with me. And then they go like “no seriously, there must be something that causes this”. And that’s upsetting. Because I would want to know what’s wrong.
It’s exhausting and tiring.
I don’t want to bother anyone or be a burden because that’s how I feel. That’s what I am for me.
I want to go out. I want to have fun. I want to live. I want to be able to be at peace with my mind and myself. It’s just not that easy.
one of the most enlightening realizations ive had was finding out that non-24 hour circadian rhythm people were a pretty large group and most of us have oddly similar cycles of usually around 28hr internal “days” and this masquerades as “insomnia” but if allowed to sleep and wake naturally we will just advance forward through time an extra 2-4 hours a day at a relatively stable pace. we can’t go to school or jobs or even run errands on normal schedules without massive pharmacological and behavioral intervention. most of the people who have been diagnosed or figured it out themselves will report horrific, life-ruining disruption in their professional lives and terrible health from accrued lack of sleep. this disorder is most common in vision-impaired people which seems to suggest it’s related to light cues. anyway just thinking about this as extremely loud yard work woke me up at 8am for the second day in a row
lot of people reblogging this identifying themselves in it so i wanted to give you a link to a more detailed desription of Non-24-Hour Sleep-Wake Disorder, and mention theres a similar disorder called Delayed Sleep Phase disorder where you are on a regular 24 hour cycle but you naturally get sleepy around 3-4am every day and wake up around 10am-12pm (roughly). as far as i can tell, despite the widespread nature of both these disorders, its basically impossible to get diagnosed bvecause sleep medicine is probably the single most useless specialty and if you dont have sleep apnea they dont want to hear about it.
I"m fascinated by the implication that our internal biological circadian clock is 28 hours.. is is possible that in the earth’s rotation/orbit used to be longer or slower???
The cell door opens and she is shoved inside. She stumbles to the center of the room - a small, cold, harshly lit concrete block.
“On your knees,” the torturer commands.
Nervously, she obeys, slowly sinking to the floor.
“Good. Stay there until I return.”
She looks up, as if to question the order, but the torturer only gives her an icy glare before turning to leave. The cell door slams behind them with a resounding thud and the click of a lock.
This must be some kind of test, or a lesson. She isn’t sure.
When the whumpee stands up from where they’ve been sitting and talking to the caretaker, and they stagger, vision blurring as they nearly pass out. The caretaker jumping up and steadying them, then lowering them back down into a chair. Them putting a hand on the whumpee’s shoulder to ground them as the whumpee recollects themselves, and then asking how they’ve feeling, and if they have any idea why they nearly fainted. The whumpee admitting that they’ve been a little tired lately, but that they didn’t realize it was bad enough for them to almost pass out, and the caretaker getting them to bed so they can get some rest.
Nod
Adrian Barnes
I super dooper boober love this book and so I kinda just scribbled something for it
Basic premise, apocalyptic type situation of what would happen if 90% of the worlds population suddenly couldn’t sleep with only a few thousand “sleepers”
It’s gross and sad and disturbing and sometimes pretty horrifying and I love the main characters personality oh so much
Edit: more scribbles
Note: I wrote the beginning of this in the middle of trying to decide if I needed to safeword, and I only changed a couple of words afterwards. It’s a pretty good picture of my thought processes and patterns at the time. I was at work and my mind was a fucking mess, so I decided I needed to write something to figure things out. It’s not a super fun piece of writing in large part.
SPOILER: A few hours after I wrote this, although I was still in a fucked up mental state, I did eventually ask, “I’ll still do the rubber bands and I guess the dildo tonight if you want, but is it okay if I say "Red. Pause until I’ve slept.?” Of course, he responded “It’s always OK to use your safewords.”
So, last night I was trying to finish the rest of the 30 minutes of fucking my ass with the dildo. I was dumb, and after my Skyping with MLAM ended, I was dumb and ate (I had barely eaten anything all day) and wrote my assigned post first. It was 5am before I started trying to fulfill my assignment. I was walking from my bedroom to grab the dildo from the kitchen, thinking about what I was going to be doing, when everything just hit me. The last week, the start of my new job, the bad shit from Monday, and most of all, the pure exhaustion from only sleeping 2 hours the night before, and the knowledge that I would be getting that little sleep yet again. I stopped mid-step and collapsed, choked out “I can’t do it.” and started sobbing hard. I eventually got up, still crying, got the dildo and went back to my room. I brushed my teeth and washed my face and kind of laughed at myself for being so silly and crying.
I went back to my room and when I got down on the floor, I was about to stick the dildo down my throat when I started sobbing again. I let loose this time and just lay there, sobbing, curling in on myself like a fetus, and shaking. I thought I couldn’t control it, but then I tried and I did manage to push it down. I stuck the dildo in my mouth and the sobbing started again. Granted, that made everything all mucousy and I did get a fairly slippery dildo out of it. I kept crying, sometimes sobbing, sometimes not, and I started pushing the thing into my hole. The sobbing started up again, along with the fetus curling, so I let go and the dildo popped out. I started a text to MLAM, saying I couldn’t do it, wanting to make it clear that I’d tried hard. I stopped halfway through, not wanting to be a fucking disappointment. I decided to keep trying. I couldn’t put it in my mouth again to lubricate it more, because of fecal contamination. Not entirely sure what to do, I used my clean butt plug to get more, smeared it on, and pushed a couple fingers in and out of my ass a couple times. I pushed the dildo in and started fucking my ass with it. There wasn’t enough lubrication. I kept at it, but eventually stopped in less than a minute. The sobbing started again, this time exhaustion was mixed with fear and shame. Fear of the punishment for being a fuck up. Shame about failing so quickly. Fear that I’d never be able to get it right. Shame for not being able to do something so fucking simple. Fear of becoming unwanted and being tossed aside.
I tried a bit more, but just couldn’t. I’d start sobbing each time, push it down, try again, sob again. I finally finished the text I’d started. I said “I couldn’t do the other fifteen minutes. I got two hours of sleep last night and I’m going to get that tonight because I was doing things and all of a sudden it was 5am (that’s on me, but still) and I thought about doing the other fifteen and I just sort of started sobbing. I did get sputum and get it in my ass but I keep sobbing, mostly because I’m so tired, and it just is way past the point where it’s enjoyable at all. I tried really hard to push past that, but it’s not working. I even feel shitty because I’m not doing it, but I just can’t right now. I’m sorry, sir.” I thought maybe he’d be understanding. I didn’t put it in parentheses, say OOC or “Real talk” or safeword. I was tired, but I’m not sure if that’s the reason I didn’t do any of that. It was a large part of it, though. I cried myself to sleep, worried and scared, but thinking maybe it would be okay.
In the morning, I sent him another text, “So, now that I’m not quite as exhausted as I was last night, I think a big part of why I got overwhelmed last night, besides exhaustion, was a mental block about the sputum. I want to just use that, like you said to, but I also get upset/agitated thinking about using only that. Is there any way that I could please be allowed to do my best with the sputum and use lube as backup? Maybe just until I get the hang of it, like the first week? Please, sir? I so want to please you and do as I’m told, but I’m a disappointing little bitch and I have to work up to it.”
I headed to work, exhausted but not upset. Then his response came. I went to the bathroom to read it. I could tell from the part I could see that it was not the understanding text I’d hoped for. I got to the stall and read it.
He said, “Why is the lube such a sticking point for you? You’re clearly not even concerned about lubrication because sputum provides that, it’s the physical object of lube itself that you covet. Why? Also, I cannot believe, you little bitch, have once again failed to follow an order so quickly. You should have done the fucking before the post, as the length of the fucking was a known quantity, whereas writing could have been modified” and gave me a punishment involving snapping rubber bands on my tits and the soles of my feet.
I started to cry. Other people were in the stalls nearby, so I kept it quiet. I sat down and pissed, masturbated and cried. At work. I stole three rubber bands on my way back to my desk.
[Note: It was at this point that I started writing, so the rest is in present tense.]
I feel empty. To be honest, I’m not sure if I want to step out and safeword. Part of me knows that I can. Part of me feels like I can’t, not without consequences. Like if I safeworded, he’d decide I was boring and get rid of me, or at least play with me less. Phase me out. Maybe for a better model. Part of me just wants to say “No.” in response. Or
“Mental block. Like I said. And k.” Another part wants to do the thing he said, but just not respond. As I wrote this, the other part, the little feminist bitch part, got larger, and I fell back into that headspace somewhat. Still not sure what I’m going to do. For now, finish the workday.
————-
I wrote this next bit after I was feeling better/right before I posted this on the tumblr.
Part of the reason I did safeword was that I kept crying at work. Enough for my office mate to ask if I was getting the sniffles and offer tissues. After he left for the day, the tears and snot just started flowing (I do not cry cute.)
About an hour after MLAM told me that of course I could safeword, and I responded “Red. Pause until I’ve slept,” I followed up with a request for reassurance, since he hadn’t really given me any, and part of the reason I safeworded was because of the fact that I felt like I couldn’t safeword without consequences. I hesitated for a while before saying that, and even talked to Legal Lolita about it briefly. I didn’t want to be needy, or demanding, or annoying, which pairs nicely with those feelings of being tossed aside for being boring. Even the message I sent asking for reassurance was all hedging and “kind of” and “if that’s okay with you.”
I must have still been in a bit of a state, because of course he wasn’t going to be mad at me for being clear about my needs. He said “Sure, what’s up, gorgeous?” That made me start to cry again, this time from relief. I explained my feelings about being afraid he’d think I was boring if I safeworded, and he said “Nope. Everyone safe words. And if they don’t, then you’re not finding the edge. And if you don’t find it, how can you push boundaries? :)” Which is just so perfectly true and so him to say.
I read that a couple times and thought about it. I realized that the limit I hit here wasn’t about the dildo or anal or lube. It was about playing while sleep deprived. I lost much of my ability to separate roles from reality.
Having gone through that and out the other side, I’m really fascinated. I definitely want to push that boundary again with MLAM, just not while I have to be at work, and I’d much rather do it in person. I really like the fact that I truly felt like he was mad at me, disappointed in me, and that he might just drop me for not doing what he wanted, no matter what. That could be hella fun in person, and also I think being able to hug and cuddle and talk afterwards would be very important.
I think that my fear about being abandoned for being boring if I safeword is the much clearer articulation of a nagging feeling I’ve had in the back of my head. Like I couldn’t tell where my boundaries were or if I could have limits. It’s absolutely not the result of anything MLAM did. It’s just me up in my head with my insecurities. Now that I do believe that I’m attractive, they jumped to another quality for me to worry about. It’s probably why I kept apologizing for safewording for a while. I already talked about that one with MLAM and had him reiterate what I already know, which is that safewording doesn’t mean I’ve fucked up at all. It means we’ve found a boundary, and now we can play with it, which I really enjoy.
I still need to talk about all of this with MLAM, and talk theory and practice with some other people, as well, but now that it’s all over, I’m glad I had this experience. Also, I’m going to work on my sleep schedule. Good night.
Critical Role C2 AU where everything is the same except Caduceus is fully aware that he’s in a role playing game and can see the players
guys, can we let this die
i wrote it while sleep deprived and now it’s my most popular post. it’s literally what happens in game already because cad has a passive perception of a billion
please stop making me look at my own dumbassery, please
