I am coming off the end of what should have been a lovely weekend, but I just feel blue. Rob and I went swimming and shopping and generally just had fun being together, in our own flat, for the first weekend in ages. But then Sunday afternoon rolled around and I just… took a dive. I hate Sunday afternoons. I really do. I find them so depressing. When I was younger Sunday afternoon meant my freedom was ending. No more fun, no more playing. It meant bedtime. When I was little bedtime was really a challenge for me. I have always had difficulty sleeping, so after two days of no bedtimes and no pressure to sleep according to schedule, Sunday afternoon was terrible.
Here I am, 25 years old, and bedtime still makes me anxious. I know that if I don’t go to bed at a certain point I will seriously regret it in the morning. But sometimes, oftentimes, I try to fall asleep and it doesn’t happen. So I lay in bed, stressing about my lack of sleep. I can take sleeping pills, but I hate doing it. The sleep doesn’t feel genuine. I am definitely not as well rested in the morning. So right now, I am feeling blue, but it could be from lack of sleep.