Memoirs of a Starseed Insomniac
It’s been a few months since I’ve written anything, but I felt oddly compelled to pick it back up this morning. I want to share what I have finally realized is one of my biggest sources of stress since my awakening began in 2015. Over the last five years, I have experienced months-long stretches where I barely sleep. I wake up all through the night for this reason or the other. Insomnia is one of my many diagnoses.
Since I don’t take medication, I have really been digging deep to figure out the cause of all this tremendous stress. Over the last ten weeks, I have slept only one or two nights for over five uninterrupted hours. One or two nights of this in the span of one week begins to take its toll on anyone, and here I am going on my third month.
I began this round of emotional clearing after having an intense dream about the father of my daughter, Michael. Since I completed this round, I made amends to him personally and it went way better than I expected. At first, I was so nervous, it was hard to breathe, but once I began talking it seemed to flow easily. With the exception of a few months during the worst part of our relationship, we always got along because our personalities complimented each other so well.
Michael has not visited with our daughter more than a handful of times over the years and has firmly insisted that his hatred for me is to blame. The guilt that has arisen from this situation has been an anchor I carried throughout my daughter’s life. She will be twenty-one in January. It is important for you to know a little of the back story of the relationship before you read through the steps. Allow me to briefly explain what happened to harden his and his family’s heart toward me. This is extremely personal, but I am putting it out there anyway, in hopes that it will help others who might read this.
My Alcoholic Lives
**This situation was worked through using the Formula of Compassion last year before I started using a laptop to type them. I have copied this from the journal entry and edited it for publication. Some of the names have been changed for privacy reasons. A second entry was made recently due to lingering painful resentments and recurring dreams. That entry will be shared next.
***I am not a licensed medical or psychological professional. The views expressed on this website are that of my own based on my personal experiences. If you are having a medical or psychological emergency, please seek professional help immediately by dialing 911.
June 24, 2018
I remember looking out my bedroom window with excitement to see little Marisa outside popping tar bubbles in the road. I would always run out there and pop them with her. We must have been around five years old when we met and became friends. Sometime after moving two doors down from her and her family, I was told that my mother, Marion, died and that I was adopted.
This news must have devastated me, but I don’t remember the reaction. I recall where I was when I was told but can’t remember many other details. I remember my adopted mom and me being alone in what was called 'the sewing room' while I was being told. The reason this event was not a family conversation eludes me. I can’t seem to remember being upset or crying at all. I guess I blocked it out. I look back on this event now and think that I stuffed the pain deep down into my subconscious.
My name is Kerry Eppler and these are my true tales. Relax. Enjoy. Be inspired.