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Tuesday, 5 July 2011

Bitter Zzzzz

The flames of an impotent rage are burning in my stomach, futile and frustrating.  An ache cloys in the hollow of my throat making my hands flutter uselessly to my neck as though warding off danger.

It is the powerlessness that fuels this fire.  The sense that I cannot affect anything, not even my ability to sleep or stand.  An evil snivelling greedy intruder insomnia has slithered into my house and gorged on my sleep leaving me starving.  And I cannot find the power or control to hold my muscles into any practised positions, so my mind throws itself uselessly against the antagonism this intruder has enveloped me in.

And then a woman turns up, for an appointment I had cancelled.  And she is sent straight upstairs to me in spite of my vocal insistence that she not be.  She too is an employee of the department of ‘no listening’.  And as I try to corral my rebellious thoughts and coerce my tongue into something coherent she talks at me and over me, wasting my greatly depleted energy on repeat.  It has turns my insides burning amber with an impotent fire storm of rage that cannot be quelled.

I have no power.  There are no choices to be made.  And as my friends face their struggles with attempts at being Zen, I find little to be thankful for.  I want to go back to the days before the intruder came when although I was exhausted beyond comprehension, I could sleep.  Heavy drunken sleep, but sleep nonetheless.  Now I flail uselessly about growling and stomping like a toddler learning to master their motor skills.

In the days before he gorged on my sleep, I could at least be thankful for the painful awareness that came with consciousness.  Today I find nothing to be thankful for. 

I am alive, I should be thankful for that.  And maybe tomorrow I can be.  If only that bastard intruder would leave me some sleep scraps, even crumbs.  Then I promise to be thankful.


  1. Another wonderful expressive blog. Sorry that bastard intruder managed to get in Marzi. What strength it must have taken to not punch her in the face.

  2. Thanks beautiful I just realised how I was a little incoherent even writing. She was the second intruder, the first was insomnia... I have named him now so as not to be confusing.

    And yes I actually turned awkwardly on my heel, braced myself on the walls and walked away from her back to bed.

    Thanks for reading again xoxo

  3. Very powerful Marz xxx love you very muchly xx

    Lisa :)

  4. Very powerful and great writing! So sorry you are having such a hard time. ((((hugs)))


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