insomnia. emotional spectrums. hot bevvies.

as i lie awake for the 18th hour in a row, running on zero caffeine in the last two days, something strikes me as uhhhhhh real fucked up. as soon as mid last year, i was on lorasidone, an anti-psychotic sleeping agent that helped me regulate my bipolar as well as put me to sleep. i fucking hated that shit. it made me nauseous, i couldn’t drink while taking it, and it put me to sleep too quickly. but it sure did put me to sleep! that bitch ain’t lyin’!

i don’t have a doctor right now. i don’t have someone who can manage the medication that i’ve been on since 2018. i don’t have someone to talk to about how i can’t sleep. all i seem to be able to do is fall asleep on the couch while my wife is playing computer games and i have my laptop open three inches from my face blasting ali abdaal’s videos about productivity. at this point of sleep deprivation, running on two or more days like this, my muscles hurt in new ways and i’m jumping at the slightest noise. i’m a mess, dude.

at least i haven’t sobbed myself to sleep in a while.

my wife and i were talking about genius tonight (last night???) and it prompted me to talk about something i’ve never given voice to before: the emotional spectrum of artists.

because artists are usually mental ill and disabled, because we feel a lot more deeply than those fucking normies… what was i saying? i just fell asleep for six hours. i feel worse than before, somehow. it’s now fully storm season, the day after we did a huge shop and bought an entire fridge and cupboard full of food. thank fuck. we were hungry.

right. feeling deeply. i’m sure someone else has the same thoughts, but i’m theorising that every exists on a spectrum of 0-200, kind of like IQ. 0 being you have killed yourself out of despair and 200 being psychotically, manically happy. as someone with bipolar (the one with mania) and bpd, i feel a lot more strongly and on a broader spectrum than most people. i have been psychotically, manically happy, sleeping 2 or 3 hours a night, rolling on the floor laughing for hours, and seeing and hearing things that my mind conjured up, but being happy is only a part of being manic.

there is obviously room for this theory to be improved. i’m not about to use my half a psych degree to pull a study out of my arse. i could look for literature on this, but where would i even start? all i have to say is that happiness exists on a spectrum and artists have a broader spectrum of both emotion and intelligence. but the last one is for a different day.

even if i tried, i do not think i could come up with proper evidence for this theory, so i’m going to leave it there and hope my headache goes away when i sip this lil hot coffee. i am, after all, such a guy who needs a silly little bevvy.