I remember 3:00 a.m. My body worn, head pounding, brain a foggy mess as I lie eyes wide-open. It began when campuses went digital. I was taking near-intolerable amounts of Prednisone to treat a rise in my autoimmune disease. Night after night, the medicine left me staring into black, imploring myself to dream.
Though I’m now sleeping 10 hours a night, my days still wash together into an exhausted, delirious state.
After a decade of chronic illness, I’ve learned how my body and heart speak the same language. The pain in my head tells of the twist in my heart. I’m still sleepless—mind, body, and soul. I wonder if your new realities feel sleepless, too?