The woman twisted and turned in her bed, trying to fall asleep. She was completely exhausted but her mind refused to cooperate. Sitting up she picked up the bottle of Nyquil placed on her bedside shelf. Disregarding the dosage instruction, she tossed it back like it was alcohol. She had already drained half of it four hours ago with the hopes of slipping into a coma, but now it appeared she needed more.
Simone Goyette was a 22 year old college dropout who suffered from severe insomnia. Though she had tried to ignore it for years chalking it up to stress and telling herself it wasn't a big deal, over the past 6 months it had gotten significantly worse. She had terrible headaches and on those especially bad days she had struggled with basic motor skills.
On one occasion she had even hallucinated.
Drinking the bottled water to wash away the sickly, sweet taste of Nyquil, Simone then picked up her Tylenol container and popped two into her mouth. Finishing the rest of the water, she tossed the bottle away in frustration and flopped back on the bed.
I don't want to have to see a fucking doctor and then have to live the rest of my life on meds. Fucking hell, it's called sleep! It's a natural and instinctual human function; it's basic as fuck! Why do I have to suffer like this?
She massaged her temples, feeling another migraine encroaching. Or worse a cluster headache. She had only experienced that once in her life and she had legit thought she was going to die.
That was a key turning point in her life. After that, she cut down on her activities and dedicated more time towards self-care.
Or so she thought.
That was what she'd told everyone else.
None of her loved ones knew she was failing this hard. She always responded with brightness when asked about her condition.
For Simone, it was a matter of pride.
I'm gonna beat this! It's my fucking brain! There's no reason I shouldn't be able to shut it down to sleep when I want it to!
Her eyes stung from the lack of rest. She placed the back of her hand on top of them.
I can't afford to slip up tomorrow. Just tomorrow. Please just let me get through tomorrow with my brain functioning at an average capacity. I don't need perfection. I just need to be rested enough to act normal.
I can't let them see.
I especially can't let HIM see me in this state!