A week shy of diagnosis

My insomnia started on January 25. That's the official date, although I think the night of January 23 had some hints of it. On January 24, I ate and drank too much too late at night and slept fitfully -- but still slept. This means that if this annoying problem doesn't clear up in a week, I'll qualify for a diagnosis of Primary Insomnia, according to the DSM. In our DSM class, many of the students joke about how they've diagnosed themselves with something. Apparently, I was not ill to start with, so I had to *create* a disorder for myself. I just wanted to fit in, OK?

I'm not sure if I'm really diagnosable, though, because the insomnia must cause "clinically significant distress or impairment in social, occupational or other important areas of functioning." I did almost have a car wreck when I was having the worst of this problem, but since Ambien was introduced into my diet, I'm not so impaired. I just can't sleep without the stuff. And, truth be told, even when I take it, it doesn't get me through the night. I awaken, and I start noodlin'.

This morning, I tried to unload some (well, just a little bit) of what's been on my mind. Over breakfast, GF and I started talking about her Grand Plan. She intends to move across the country when I am done with graduate school. In her mind, I'm going with her. In my mind, that is absolutely *not* a given. There are a dozen or more reasons for this, not the least of which is the problem of ditching my social network and the professional network I'm developing at school. Also, I love the Pacific Northwest -- it's clean, beautiful, progressive and the weather (despite the godforesaken windy cold snaps like we're having now) is the best of any place I've lived. Summer is absolutely divine. Fall is gorgeous. Winter is moody but tolerable. And every time GF mentions wanting to live somewhere that it snows a lot in the winter, I want to PUKE.

But it's more than just location, friends and professional contacts that weigh on my mind. It's a nagging feeling that somewhere not too long ago, GF and I came to a fork in our shared path and, without knowing it, we chose to go separate ways. A friend told me recently that her husband is in the process of applying for school and that, "I can't help but think that when he envisions himself moving away for school, he doesn't see me going with him." I know what she feels like. This morning, when I told GF the concerns I have with her Grand Plan, it was clear she was already aware of them and, to some degree, resigned.

I learned a long time ago that plans are nothing more than ideas, that the future is a canvas upon which you can paint many images only to have them disappear overnight. Just as I can't see an end to this insomnia, I can't predict one itsy bitsy tiny goddamned thing about the future. So I'm trying to go on with the life that *is* right now, rather than being upset over the one that might be. Still, it sucks. And still, I'm sleepless.

(It is my belief, however, that really fired up, passionate, shuddering sex is almost always a cure for insomnia. (Perhaps that's why it's on my mind all the time.) My upcoming Treatment Planning course might instruct me otherwise, but I know a good old wive's tale when I hear one. Sadly, this kind of remedy is not so easily dispensed. Therefore, Ambien, thou shalt be my mistress.)