The return of insomnia

Well this morning hasn’t been a complete disaster but I feel pretty miserable despite yesterday having felt stable for once. Firstly, my good old friend insomnia has apparently decided to waltz back into my life at this crucial time and I didn’t get to sleep until a little before 5am. So that wasn’t great, and then my cat miraculously opened my door 2 hours later and jumped on my bed and kept padding around, and I was too tired to shut her out. Then I fell into this bizarre dream in which me and various members of my family were strewn over this patch of the ocean, with our belongings either floating around us, or being delivered down to us from long streamers in the sky. All of our boxes were like old-fashioned trunks with patches and stamps all over them, and my dad’s girlfriend was there… it was just weird and it went on seemingly forever. My mum’s boyfriend woke me up again by laughing loudly outside my door at around 11 o’clock which pissed me off, because I was actually quite enjoying the tranquillity and bizarre-ness of my dream, and it took me around 15 minutes to get back to sleep (which in my mind felt like 2 hours). Finally I slept until 12.30 and didn’t come out of my room until half one.

Several things that upset me from the offset: my skin is still looking terrible, despite the amount of healthy food I’ve been trying to eat lately (this just makes me think: why bother). I’ve even got more spots than before and some of them I can’t cover and I don’t know what I’ll do if it’s still this bad next week. Then I stepped on the scales and the switch had accidentally flipped back to pounds, so I got a nasty surprise seeing 140.4 on the reader. Yes, I knew I’d be somewhere around here in the back of my mind, but I suppose the combination of me having a long sleep and the fact that I actually felt smaller, had led me to believe I’d have lost weight since yesterday. Not to mention I did actually keep the calories moderate last night; I definitely didn’t binge and I didn’t eat past 8pm.

Whatever.

Still, I guess 140 is a good starting point. It’s not anywhere near where I am comfortable with and even saying it makes me ashamed, but it’s not 141, or 142 (which is where I ballooned to earlier this week) and I know I’m starting to get this night-time bingeing under control, which can mean nothing but good things.

At 2pm I made a mocha frappuccino from scratch, which I calculated to be 150 calories. I also stupidly decided to bung 6 potato smileys in the oven, and then even worse, preceded to cover them with grated cheddar cheese and tomato sauce and stick that under the grill. I also think I stuffed half a piece of bread with hoummous in my face, which was entirely unnecessary, but for some reason I felt the obligation to do so.

It’s now 3pm, and I’m sipping ice water; that is all I aim to consume for the rest of the afternoon while I am working. Then in the evening I’ll have an alcoholic drink or two, preferably a Screwdriver if I can get my hands on some vodka or even better, Baileys. Because alcohol doesn’t count and makes me feel better about everything so you know why the fuck not.

Work plan for today: read all notes on Paradise Lost thoroughly; compile notes on Twelfth Night and Duchess of Malfi. Also, I’m going to try not to exceed 800 calories today, if I can help it (and that includes booze). Maybe (hopefully) I’ll see 139 tomorrow. Fingers crossed.