My eyes snapped open. I groaned and rolled over to check the time. 5:34am. Shit. I turned on my side and tried to fall back asleep, but my mind had started moving in accelerated fashion, flooded with thoughts of failure and anxiety. I forced myself to stay in bed and drifted off. I woke up again a while later and tried to check the time on my cell phone. I had difficulty picking it up. My hand wouldn’t stop shaking.
I grimaced. I knew what was coming, and with my shaking hands, it took me a while to punch in a short message to work. Sick again. I didn’t get paid when I didn’t work, and this had been happening far too often lately. I took a deep breath. Though I’d messaged work I was going to be absent, I tried to get up. Tried to fight it.
Nothing.
My body did not cooperate. I lay there, overwhelmed, as tears filled my eyes. There was nothing for me to do but wait. After about an hour I drifted into semi-consciousness. I dreamed I’d run over a family with my car. It didn’t make sense, but my dreams rarely did on days like this. There was nothing to do but stare at the ceiling.
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