Because I've been having nightmares and yelling in the middle of the night. I remember yelling, sometimes, but never the dreams. I usually sleep in the other bedroom, with the fan on, because of my work. Bill hears me, he says, so I must be yelling pretty loud because not only is the fan on, the door is shut and he sleeps with a breathing machine and with his hearing aid off.
My doctor has moved to northern Utah to oversee the state hospital, but I think I probably should see someone. I feel pretty depressed.
I am at the stage in my life where being crazy isn't cool or interesting---I'm over Oprah's "I was abused as a child and I'm nuts" shows. I'm over feeling unique because I'm crazier than other people.
And I feel a bit lost.
Last night, I yelled in my sleep and woke myself up. This morning, Bill casually mentioned it, as if I'd stubbed my toe or something. I just said calmly, "yeah, I don't know why." And, "Have a nice day" as he left for work.
Which goes to show a person can go crazy and act completely sane.