I’m still not sleeping well. Haven’t all week here in NYC. The past two nights I took a sleep aid that I got at Duane Reade. That’s basically Walgreens in New York City.
Someone had recommend ZzzQuil, but I ended up getting a generic pill: diphenhydramine. (Same active ingredient. Last night it didn’t seem to help much at all. I think the night before it may’ve helped get me to sleep, but I didn’t stay asleep. I was awake off and on all night. Every night’s been the same. Yesterday I stayed in and tried to nap during the morning and afternoon. But it wasn’t very satisfying sleep—just the same as nights here, awake off and on, both my body and my mind were tossing and turning and not being able to settle down.
I’m ready to be back in my apartment in North Carolina. I'd forgotten about 5-floor walk-ups and subway staircases and inclines and hills. New York City is rough on my feet and shins. But it’s also rough on my…brain? soul? self? Whatever. I’d also forgotten that I just do not much like it here.
Much like anywhere else, it’s okay when I’m actually in rehearsal, but the rest of the time it’s pretty miserable. I think the general problem I have of feeling desperately alone is compounded here by being surrounded by so very many people—people I don’t know, people I’ll never really connect to.
There are people here that I do know, but I’m not very close to any of them. It’s just the same story I’ve been telling for years now. This is my life now, and I don’t want it. But it’s been this way for so long, I’ve gone down a path that’s lead me here. (And, to extend this path metaphor) I feel like it’s sort of a one-way dead end combined with a cul-de-sac, with no side roads leading out.
This is not good.