What do they call it when you wake up at 3 am? Tied down and covered by something heavy;
a thick wet blanket, woven of every bad decision you’ve ever made.What do they call it when regrets pours on? Leaving you gasping and choking,
unable to breathe or to move or to wriggle free, trying to catch your breath in the dark.What do they call it when Panic sets in as it does when one drowns?
As you lie there sobbing; trying to process an emotion you have only ever heard people describe but never felt until now.What do they call it when all you can do is gasp and choke, waiting for a dawn that may never come?
Thandwefika Tshabalala 19.05.2020
I wrote this passage one morning a couple of years ago after waking up in a state of panic and anxiety that I could not yet describe because I had never experienced anything close to this.
The closest words I had for this was “Waterboarding“; a form of torture in which water is poured over a cloth covering the face and breathing passages of an immobilized captive, causing the person to experience the sensation of drowning. That night felt like I was being waterboarded by my own brain.
At first, I put it down to the stress and uncertainty of a COVID world. Maybe my brain was warning me of some deep-seated fears I harboured while trying to steward my family through this period. So I stayed up and made plans, I built contingencies to ensure that we survive the uncertainty. Yet occasionally my brain still waterboards me.
I read numerous research-based articles and made several changes to my habits and patterns. The night terrors do not bother me as often anymore, but I still struggle to fall asleep. Thankfully, the waterboarding has now been downgraded to insomnia.
I remember the 19th of May 2020 as clearly as a mother remembers the day their baby was born because for me that is the day my insomnia started.
For that reason, I rate this particular night a lousy 1 star, and insomnia can eat shit.