Trouble sleeping

I'm tired. I'm tired all the time. My depression makes me tired, and my anti-depressants make me tired. Constantly tired, every second of every day. So why do I have such trouble sleeping?

When I decide that it's time for bed, I curl up under the quilt and watch an episode of a show, or read a few chapters of a book, then I roll over (usually a few times, one of my many doglike tendencies) and close my eyes. I count. I stay perfectly still and I count my breaths. If I move, I have to restart the count. If and when I reach a certain number, it's obvious I'm not going to fall asleep and I get up to do something.

Occasionally, it doesn't work like that. Occasionally, I try and try and try, and I can't even lay still, let alone count. On those occasions, and actually on most occasions, I start to think. I think about everything. From whether or not I remembered to check a certain website, to what I got up to that day, to what I need to get up to the next day, to whether or not my boyfriend has been in a horrible accident, to whether my friend is doing okay with the whole trying-to-be-single thing, to whether my sister will outgrow her current phase, to why my cat won't come and give me a cuddle, to whether I'm ever going to see my boyfriend again, to how I could sell a kidney, to....

Well, it goes on. And on and on and on. It doesn't stop. Sometimes it's just inane randomness, and sometimes it heads towards the darker stuff. Like, my relationship with my father. And my fears. And all kinds of other things that I just don't like to think about so I try to keep my mind busy all day, but they sneak up on me when I lie down to sleep. And that cloud of depression sneaks up on me. All of a sudden my dark and depressing thoughts turn to how to deal with the darkness and depression. Whether or not I should forget about sleep and get up and do stuff to keep my mind busy again, and try to sleep when I just can't stay awake long enough. Whether or not I can manage without slicing my skin open and watching the blood again. Whether or not I'm going to heat up my binge food, or just stuff it into my mouth cold. Whether or not I'll try one of the other self-injury methods that have been floating around my head for a while now.

This particular time, I've chosen to eat another three portions of my tart from earlier, a big bar of cooking chocolate and half a can of whipped cream. I might try sleeping again in a minute, but if it fails a second time, a binge won't suffice. And I'm trying very, very hard to stop adding scars to my ever-growing collection. So I'm blogging. I'm leaving a nice depressing ramble for all you internet lovelies who pop onto my blog to read about my crafts and my cat. Sorry.