Dark night of the soul

[Wirey]

It's 2:30 and I can't sleep. Every now and then I get these nights where sleep itself is a dream, and my brain calls up images of every mistake I've ever made, every wrong I've ever committed, and every chance I ever turned my back on. I'm drenched in sweat and I have remembered, quite against my will, the time I made Laurie cry when I told her I didn't love her anymore, when really I never loved her and was just tired of screwing her, the time I told my Dad I was too tired to come visit when in fact I just wanted to watch a rerun of the movie Midway (now that's he's dead I'd shed blood to take that one back), how I screwed up my tax return this year and will have to refile it, how I left my ex in such bad shape, how I never got my med degree because I was too busy ****ing around trying to play pro ball, and every other thing I ever messed up. I used to write, did I ever tell you guys that? I actually had a few short stories published a million years ago. Stopped that. I was going to write a novel. It's been on page 115 since 2005. I don't even remember what it's about.
Since I got sick I worry that I'll die and all this stuff will remain unresolved. On nights like this I'm certain it will, and it'll mean I've failed. I'm going to go have some milk and try to sleep. See you when I'm funny again.

 

[Deathbydefault]

There's a pink little allergy pill that will knock you out pretty fast, if you were looking for a way out of the 'nightly thought loop of self-damnation'.

 

[Covellite]

Actually, what you said you've been doing is quite okay. It proves that you are a human being. Making mistakes and leaving stuff unresolved is part of everybody's life.
Most people blame others, some blame themselves. IMO, they are all wrong. Try to forgive and forget everything and please yourself as much as you can.
Best wishes

 

[Buttercup]

Sorry you've had a rough night. I hope things are better in the morning when you wake.

 

[BSM1]

It's 2:30 and I can't sleep. Every now and then I get these nights where sleep itself is a dream, and my brain calls up images of every mistake I've ever made, every wrong I've ever committed, and every chance I ever turned my back on. I'm drenched in sweat and I have remembered, quite against my will, the time I made Laurie cry when I told her I didn't love her anymore, when really I never loved her and was just tired of screwing her, the time I told my Dad I was too tired to come visit when in fact I just wanted to watch a rerun of the movie Midway (now that's he's dead I'd shed blood to take that one back), how I screwed up my tax return this year and will have to refile it, how I left my ex in such bad shape, how I never got my med degree because I was too busy ****ing around trying to play pro ball, and every other thing I ever messed up. I used to write, did I ever tell you guys that? I actually had a few short stories published a million years ago. Stopped that. I was going to write a novel. It's been on page 115 since 2005. I don't even remember what it's about.
Since I got sick I worry that I'll die and all this stuff will remain unresolved. On nights like this I'm certain it will, and it'll mean I've failed. I'm going to go have some milk and try to sleep. See you when I'm funny again.

When life needs a whipping boy those of us that think too much top the list. The only silver lining is that as long as you're sucking air it's never too late to try to right a wrong or chase a dream. Perfect example: at 66 I'm finally playing in a rock/blues band with a gig behind us.

 

[Mindmaster]

It's 2:30 and I can't sleep. Every now and then I get these nights where sleep itself is a dream, and my brain calls up images of every mistake I've ever made, every wrong I've ever committed, and every chance I ever turned my back on. I'm drenched in sweat and I have remembered, quite against my will, the time I made Laurie cry when I told her I didn't love her anymore, when really I never loved her and was just tired of screwing her, the time I told my Dad I was too tired to come visit when in fact I just wanted to watch a rerun of the movie Midway (now that's he's dead I'd shed blood to take that one back), how I screwed up my tax return this year and will have to refile it, how I left my ex in such bad shape, how I never got my med degree because I was too busy ****ing around trying to play pro ball, and every other thing I ever messed up. I used to write, did I ever tell you guys that? I actually had a few short stories published a million years ago. Stopped that. I was going to write a novel. It's been on page 115 since 2005. I don't even remember what it's about.
Since I got sick I worry that I'll die and all this stuff will remain unresolved. On nights like this I'm certain it will, and it'll mean I've failed. I'm going to go have some milk and try to sleep. See you when I'm funny again.

I don't think there is much point in revolting against yourself. I think most of what you described is simply your priorities shifting as time goes on, and there is no point worrying about where you went afterward. You are following your inspiration even if the inspiration leads to non-action; sometimes the scale of these choices ultimately makes them less than desired. As far as the taxes, you can basically jerk around forever just as long as you can get them in just do it in the next ten years and no one cares. lol

As far as dads, well you don't make those decisions based on the idea that they are gone tomorrow and you never know when. I wouldn't hold it against yourself, and I doubt your dad wherever he might be does either. As far as writing, I feel your pain I've written hundreds of pages and literally lost the motivation to complete them. I still do it... I have 20 pages for a new book and left it. Spent about 3-4 days straight on it and don't even have a second thought about it. If it's meant to be you'd have already have done it. Sometimes the idea of doing the thing sounds better than finishing the act. Something about it no longer inspires you, and it was time to leave it. Call it integrity in that you didn't publish or try to kludge it just for the sake of finishing and didn't put out sub-standard work.

As far as women, it's worse to keep a relation going when you can't actually feel the joy of it. The other person is not getting what they deserve to have, a fully dedicated partner, and you are stuck in a jail of false sentiment that impedes your own happiness. If you weren't happy you can't make her happy. I think you did the right thing, but we all succumb to poor word choices -- in the end it was honesty and harsh as that might be you did her right by ceasing to deceive her even when that would be easier for you.

 

[fantome profane]

It's 2:30 and I can't sleep. Every now and then I get these nights where sleep itself is a dream, and my brain calls up images of every mistake I've ever made, every wrong I've ever committed, and every chance I ever turned my back on. I'm drenched in sweat and I have remembered, quite against my will, the time I made Laurie cry when I told her I didn't love her anymore, when really I never loved her and was just tired of screwing her, the time I told my Dad I was too tired to come visit when in fact I just wanted to watch a rerun of the movie Midway (now that's he's dead I'd shed blood to take that one back), how I screwed up my tax return this year and will have to refile it, how I left my ex in such bad shape, how I never got my med degree because I was too busy ****ing around trying to play pro ball, and every other thing I ever messed up. I used to write, did I ever tell you guys that? I actually had a few short stories published a million years ago. Stopped that. I was going to write a novel. It's been on page 115 since 2005. I don't even remember what it's about.
Since I got sick I worry that I'll die and all this stuff will remain unresolved. On nights like this I'm certain it will, and it'll mean I've failed. I'm going to go have some milk and try to sleep. See you when I'm funny again.

Sounds like the makings of a good novel.

 

[Aquitaine]

It's 2:30 and I can't sleep. Every now and then I get these nights where sleep itself is a dream, and my brain calls up images of every mistake I've ever made, every wrong I've ever committed, and every chance I ever turned my back on. I'm drenched in sweat and I have remembered, quite against my will, the time I made Laurie cry when I told her I didn't love her anymore, when really I never loved her and was just tired of screwing her, the time I told my Dad I was too tired to come visit when in fact I just wanted to watch a rerun of the movie Midway (now that's he's dead I'd shed blood to take that one back), how I screwed up my tax return this year and will have to refile it, how I left my ex in such bad shape, how I never got my med degree because I was too busy ****ing around trying to play pro ball, and every other thing I ever messed up. I used to write, did I ever tell you guys that? I actually had a few short stories published a million years ago. Stopped that. I was going to write a novel. It's been on page 115 since 2005. I don't even remember what it's about.
Since I got sick I worry that I'll die and all this stuff will remain unresolved. On nights like this I'm certain it will, and it'll mean I've failed. I'm going to go have some milk and try to sleep. See you when I'm funny again.

We're all human, nobody lives a "perfect" life. Even though such sleepless nights cause worry, it at least shows that you're capable of being reflective and showing empathy. That's a good thing in my opinion.
You did not ask to be born, so you can't expect to live a perfect life and to have made perfect choices, like some sort of saint. Granted, that doesn't mean go out and be a douche, but that's not what we're talking about here.

 

[Kilgore Trout]

It's 2:30 and I can't sleep. Every now and then I get these nights where sleep itself is a dream, and my brain calls up images of every mistake I've ever made, every wrong I've ever committed, and every chance I ever turned my back on. I'm drenched in sweat and I have remembered, quite against my will, the time I made Laurie cry when I told her I didn't love her anymore, when really I never loved her and was just tired of screwing her, the time I told my Dad I was too tired to come visit when in fact I just wanted to watch a rerun of the movie Midway (now that's he's dead I'd shed blood to take that one back), how I screwed up my tax return this year and will have to refile it, how I left my ex in such bad shape, how I never got my med degree because I was too busy ****ing around trying to play pro ball, and every other thing I ever messed up. I used to write, did I ever tell you guys that? I actually had a few short stories published a million years ago. Stopped that. I was going to write a novel. It's been on page 115 since 2005. I don't even remember what it's about.
Since I got sick I worry that I'll die and all this stuff will remain unresolved. On nights like this I'm certain it will, and it'll mean I've failed. I'm going to go have some milk and try to sleep. See you when I'm funny again.

I've been a raging insomniac my whole life, which is characterized by this middle-of-the-night anxiety about every possible concern both past and present rescuing through your head. Unfortunately, it seems to be characteristic of a certain kind of anxious personality who is susceptible to worry and stress when there's nothing you can do about it. It seems to me to be generally characteristic of intelligent people who put the weight of the world on their own shoulders. Nothing for it other than to constantly put forth your maximum effort to alleviate your stress on yourself and for others, which seems to get increasingly difficult over time. I haven't found a cure, but look at it as a tradeoff for being fully aware and conscientious. Not much of a consolation, other than realizing most people rest well in naive ignorance.