Here Again

It’s 2:13am Friday morning and I’m having insomnia. I don’t suffer from insomnia like I did in high school. I sleep more nights than I don’t now, but every once in a while a little change in my daily routine throws me off and that little bit of anxiety is enough to keep me up for hours. In the morning I have a doctor’s appointment and then a full day planned of recording and farewell gatherings to send me off to California. I guess it’s all a bit stressful for an unhealthy introvert.

I’m far from having the health and fitness levels that I really do hope to achieve one day. I’ve decided that the only way to respond to the injustice of my years of insomnia and all the shit that it’s put me through is to start doing everything in my power to get healthy and strong until I no longer experience nights like these, until insomnia is just a memory that I can say I’ve overcome. I want to be alive again, full of energy, and full of self-confidence. But, the reality is that I’m still far from it and it still hurts.

My depression has been deep within me and stirring great waves of fear and doubt. There are days when I feel like a stranger even to myself. I’ve never known depression like this before. You become afraid of other people, afraid of their opinions of you, afraid of seeing things in them that you long for. And of course you’re so sad it actually does begin to hurt. But ironically, I sense that this is a time for new beginnings, and I’m choosing to respond to that premonition with open arms.

I leave in a week for Davis. The truth is that I’m terrified. My body is not ready. I won’t sleep and I’ll be tired and lonely and doubtful that moving for an internship was the right decision. And I will surely continue to suffer with the health issues that I’ve been struggling with this summer, but I do believe that it will soon pass and I will be a better person on the other side.

I’m packing some art supplies to make sure that I have a healthy avenue to channel my feelings. A few canvases, some pens and markers, my guitars, my new journal, and some recording equipment will travel with me along with my bike, which is also an art supply, I suppose. I really want to live simply. I want to have a room with empty walls, so that I will be forced to make my own art. I predict that it will be very therapeutic for me, especially when times are hard, to frame finished products and hang them around me. Kind of symbolic of the work in progress that I am.

– NK