Don’t Sleep on Your Dreams

I’ve experienced sleep paralysis for as long as I can remember.

It almost always happens in the morning when I’m trying to get in just a few more minutes of sleep. I roll over onto my stomach — a huge no-no — trapping my arms under my body. Air becomes scarce. I try to scream and swear I’m at least grunting, but no sound actually escapes. I can’t escape, either. I feel I might die. Then, suddenly, I jolt upright and take in a huge gulp of air as if I’ve been drowning in my nightmare.

I used to call these events night terrors, because, well, they’re terrifying. I take a few minutes to grab a little more shuteye just for me and I’m punished for it. It’s like a dark force sees this slight lapse in discipline and capitalizes on it, sucking me deeper into a jail of procrastination.

Sometimes I’ll be chillin’, chillin’, mindin’ my business and an idea will hit me like a June bug: blindly, out of nowhere with a sudden smack like “hey! I’m a good idea! It won’t be long before I bumble off to bother someone else, so you’d better grab me quick!”

I’ll look to grab my laptop or iPad, but if they’re not within arm’s reach, negativity sneaks in. “Oh,” I think, “I’ll just repeat this idea to myself several times so that it sticks in my brain. That way next time I’m in front of my laptop, I’ll get it all out.”

As soon as I tell myself I’ll get to it later, dark forces pull me under. “It’s not even a good idea,” they whisper. “It’s not a full idea. It’s not even that original/funny/exciting.” And there I go, rolled under the weight of my own fears, down down down the drain of negativity until I’m trapped there. My idea gasps for air, much like I do during night terrors. The idea is screaming at me, trying to tell me it’s worth saving if I could just shake off the shackles and wake up, but I’m not hearing it.

You might not think these two experiences are related. But they’re cousins. Not play cousins, I’m talking real your-mama-is-my-mama’s-sister cousins. I’m not sure if sleep paralysis stems from fear, but creative paralysis definitely does.

I feel like a fainting goat in the face of this fear. (But perhaps not as adorable.) I freeze and want to fall over, curl up in a ball and just sleep until good things come to me based on the ideas I never write down. It’s almost like there’s a 100lb weight on top of me, rendering me immobile and unable to bring the ideas in my head to life. I’ve called it laziness, procrastination, lack of discipline… but I’m learning these words are just negative self talk to cover up the basis: fear.

When I was sick (before I knew I was sick), people kept telling me to get up and get outside, do activities to get back into a groove. This was right after an epic breakup, so this was good advice. For all we knew at the time, I was just sad. But even though I'd historically been great at getting back out there and keeping myself busy after a breakup, this time I couldn't even get out of bed. I would pay for workout classes and grab Groupons for activities and events, but couldn't bring myself to go. I wasn’t lazy or lacking drive. My body was hanging on by a thread. I was exhausted.

I don't feel exhausted now, but it's a similar feeling of being held back by some invisible weight that keeps me from flying. Sometimes a mental internal battle can be as heavy as a physical one. Fighting against your purpose can wear you out.

Seeing a connection? Same, same. So I did an experiment upon suggestion from my therapist. That was step one, by the way: Just like we see a medical doctor when our bodies get sick, I knew I needed to see a brain doctor.

So I started working on not calling myself a lazy procrastinator. I told the voice in my head to hush for just a second so I could write my ideas down. Luckily I work at home, so only Sonic heard me talking to no one. And there! Done! Then I started to feel better because I was getting things out of my head. I wasn’t worried about forgetting them, so I could relax. I started to notice ideas getting bigger, connecting, filling out. Feeling accomplished, my anxiety decreased. I felt happier. I got better sleep, which allowed me to feel rested and ready to get up each morning, which in turn cut back on night terrors. Isn’t it amazing how all of that works together?

It seems simple, but it wasn’t easy. I recognize that I’m in an incredibly blessed position to be able to even test this theory. But once I realized my dreams were becoming nightmares I couldn’t escape, I knew I needed to do something not just for my future as a writer but for my mental and physical health. I made a plan that took awhile, but it’s been worth it so far.

Have I beaten fear? No. Sonic still hears me yell at the negative voices in my head. It’s an ongoing battle. But now I know it’s one I don’t have to roll over and take being trapped in.