I know a few posts ago, I talked about my feelings about not being able to sleep, of having nightmares, of things that go bump in the night. Isn’t it funny that, sometimes, when we talk about such things, good things happen?
I slept for five hours straight on Sunday night. That hasn’t happened in a long time. I didn’t have any really bad nightmares either. I even went back to bed around 7:00 a.m., thinking I would just lie there a bit…I didn’t wake up until 11:30 a.m.
So, yes, I was late to work and didn’t get in until 12:00 p.m., but I was scheduled for a paperwork day so I didn’t miss any clients. I was even honest with my boss about it and will be taking sick leave for the four hours that I missed. Or possibly I’ll just flex it out. I haven’t decided yet.
The bottom line is that I don’t feel guilty. I needed that sleep more than I needed work, more than I needed anything (other than Malcom) at the time.
In what appears to be a freak incident, I also slept from 8:30 p.m. last night until 3:00 this morning. I had nightmares, but not the nightmares that I usually have…the ones where I wake up screaming, all sweaty and hypervigilant. So, more sleep + nightmares-lite…I can deal with that.
Sadly, I know this will not last. My body will get used to the Seroquel and it will all start coming back. I know this because it has happened time again.
But for right now, I have new-found bright shiny hope. And that’s a good feeling.