Urinate? I’m an Eight!
I don’t know what happened to me. At around 6 this morning, I don’t know if it was a night terror, and epileptic fit, a seizure, a stroke. But something happened that has left me fatigued, without appetite, dazed and breaking out in cold sweats.
On a normal night I don’t remember my dreams, so I don’t know if it was an out and out night terror that paralyzed me. But as I was trying to regain consciousness I couldn’t move at all. I could hear what sounded like a heartbeat from the inside of the heart, but I think that was probably my snoring to be quite honest since I was lying on my back.
Towards the end of the episode I realized I had to piss, but I couldn’t get conscious enough to physically get up. It took a minute or so, but I was finally able to stagger towards the bathroom. It wasn’t until I got to piss that I realized I already pissed. As in, I fucking pissed in my bed. Fuck. I’m all for piss play, but there is a time and a place for it. 6 am when I’m in a middle of some sort of episode I can’t describe is not the time to be celebrating piss.
Yes. I motherfucking wet my bed. Like a fucking five-year old. I think the last time I wet my bed was in a hotel room in San Diego while on some really good heroin.
Thankfully I needed to do laundry today anyhow, so I just added all of my bedding to the mix. But man, nothing I did gave me energy. Not coffee, not muesli with honey, nothing. But the laundry needed to be done, so it didn’t matter that I just wanted to put my head down and just sleep away the day. I hate adulthood sometimes.
Now that I had some lunch, I’m feeling better. Barely.