I was doing really well this week.

I slept three nights. In a row. And not just my regular slept a little bit, things went to hell, spent the rest of the night trying to stay calm and awake pattern; actual fell asleep when Mister did and stayed asleep until his alarm went off in the morning, other than the occasional waking to turn over or cuddle in.

This hasn’t happened in a long time.

And small, silly parts of me were so happy. I thought that maybe all of this sleeping craziness was over. That maybe I was better, everything was better. That I could stop feeling so terrible for wrecking his sleep too, for scaring him too. That maybe we could just sleep like normal people now.

But no.

I came to to his voice, him trying to get me back, reel me in. And I was just so… disappointed, let down, heartbroken. It’s still happening and he’s still being dragged through it too.

He says that I need to stop being hard on myself. That I need to remember that so many facets of it have gotten much better. That maybe this was a sign of it coming to an end soon. That he’ll keep keeping me safe no matter what, sleepless or sleeping.

And he is so amazing. Sat up with me, missing his much needed sleep to kiss me better and hold me. Hummed to me because he didn’t want to be too loud. Enveloped me in strong arms and convinced me, though scared, to try again.

My Mister, I love you.

Sleep, don’t weep, my sweet love
My face it’s all wet ’cause my day was rough
So do what you must do to find yourself
Wear another shoe, or paint the shelf
Those times that I was broke, and you stood strong
I think I found a place where I feel I belong

-Damien Rice