The Happy Place

I struggle to sleep at times. It’s annoying.

I find going to one of my happy places helps. I wish my happy place was a beautiful beach in the sun with cocktails on tap and happy music. My happy place revolves around the rain. It could be raining in a number of places. But it is always raining.

When I was a child I had two happy places: a desolate ice mountain in the snow with the wind hurling around my bare shoulders and a cave on the fictional Kirrin Island. In both instances there was no logical way for me to have arrived or any logical survival plan (I always seemed to have the ingredients for a ham sandwich but little else needed in a snow storm). Because of this, change was necessary.

Now I often turn my fan on and my soundscape and pretend I’m in a disused brick bus stop by the sea. Or I’m in one of the changing cubicles in the Swimming baths I went to as a child. In both occasions, I’m choosing to stay there because it makes me comfortable. It’s wet but I’m not getting wet. It’s cold and the wind is always blowing across my back.

Lately, this isn’t working. I have no idea why or how but it isn’t. I’ve upped the ante- extra meds, early to bed.

Wish me luck.