Sleeping in 2018

I find myself in a strange position. I’m actually sleeping. I’m sleeping well, and I’m sleeping regularly. In fact, by some standards, I may even be sleeping too much. This is not a problem that I’ve had to fathom in a long time.
On December first, I went to a psychiatrist that my GP suggested. His Google reviews were miserable, but, having known somebody who died in the Japanese mental health system, I wanted to go to somebody safe above all else. The doctor was fine. For thirty minutes, I spoke with a social worker who radiated so much kindness and empathy that I strongly suspected him of insincerity. But I could never detect a whiff of it. It was quite beautiful, to be honest. I’m not quite sure what else to say. The doctor himself talked to me for another half hour. He is very much a psychiatrist: he focuses on symptoms and treatments. We don’t discuss much beyond self reporting. Still, when talking to him, and to the social worker, I found it oddly easy to open up in a way that I generally don’t. I suppose that I really do struggle with trust. A lot. Even with my closest friends. Somehow knowing that this person would listen to me, no matter what, and wouldn’t make me leave, and would be fine, and would put up with me was a remarkable feeling. It’s worrisome that I only know how to feel that way when I’ve paid. In a way, that conversation seemed to be a lot like how Jordan Peterson describes an ideal marriage, though on a lower/more relaxed level obviously.
At any rate, he changed my sleeping medication and put me on some general SSRIs. My sleeping was pretty unaffected at first. I had a bad head cold, and with a CPAP machine blowing into my nose all the time, I kept waking up at night. However, once that passed . . . my sleep took off. I’m regularly sleeping eight hours. I averaged eight and a half hours last week, and I’m averaging over nine this week.
Today, Wednesday morning, I’ve just done . . . nothing. I’ve lain about the house doing nothing. Mostly in bed with the mask on. I’ve used a bit of computer (obviously) and a bit of phone, but mostly . . . I’m just doing nothing. Even now, I’m just listening to some nice relaxing abstract music and writing this. Somehow that seems like it ought to indicate depression, wanting to lie about and do nothing but sleep, but in this case, it feels healing. It feels relaxing. I can relax and unwind by doing nothing. I can just sit here, and it’s fine. I don’t need games or lectures or anything like that. They’re nice, but for ages I’ve been unable to simply sit alone with my thoughts. This feels really wonderful.

I don’t really feel bad about this, but somehow or other it just seems like I should have something bad to say. Or that I should have some worry. I’m honestly not used to feeling like this, and I really just don’t know how to process it. I really don’t know what to think or to do about any of this. It’s bizarre. Is this what normal life is like for real people?

As of Friday, I will have been on the SSRIs for 2 weeks, which is the minimum threshold for when they start to do anything. We’re finally testing the, “I am depressed,” hypothesis. I wish that I had known when I first came across that idea that psychiatric care was covered under JET insurance. At any rate, if they work, and I feel better than this . . . I just don’t even know what I’ll do. I really don’t. It’s so strange. I’ve had some bad days, and some negative feelings, and today, after resting . . . I feel fine. I’m still tired. My eyes are always tired for some reason or other, it seems. But it’s a qualitatively different kind of tired. This is the kind of tired that feels like you can recover from it. It’s honestly kind of pleasant. I feel happy to just be like this. I feel like I could lounge about in this house all day, doing nothing. Just thinking and sitting and feeling content to look out the window.

I guess that it’s scary. I’ve gotten my hopes up before, and I really don’t want to get my heart broken again. But there’s a part of me that wants to be optimistic. If the SSRIs work, and if I’m sleeping, then that should be a huge boost towards getting my body to be functional again. And if I get the energy and wellness boost that comes from not being obese . . . I can’t even imagine who I’ll be.

There are moments when I catch myself, like just now, where I can feel the muscles in my legs suddenly relax before tightening right back up. It’s almost as if it’s giving me a preview of what it’s like to be a normal person who doesn’t hurt all of the time.