The sounds of nature . . . and semis traveling along the highway . . . keep me company. My brain continues to work even though I tried to slow it down. Each time I put something away, the calmness settles in a little bit more.
I look around. Stand. Walk a few feet. Sit back at the desk. And a minute later, repeat each step. Not once. Or twice. But a dozen times. There's nothing left to put away. Nothing more to clean. The OCD made sure of that earlier.
What keeps my brain from shutting down to rest? When will my body become so tired I drift into sleep? It's not the sound of the semis, although they are annoying. It's not my brain, even though it could use a good cleaning,
Why am I awake then? I don't need to be. I want to sleep. The bed is open. It's 5 AM. Sleep is not friends with bipolar.
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