Writing horrors and sleepless nightmares

I had so much trouble sleeping for two months. At the final stage, I was getting four hours of sleep at the most, and sometimes no sleep.

I lately had some success with melatonin, but not a lot. Suddenly, I had brainstorm.

After getting a whole good four hours of refreshing sleep on a triple dose of melatonin along with some Benedryl thrown in, I had a brainstorm and thought, wait, maybe it's the lighting. Maybe I've over-lit my workspace (which is also my playspace).  I turned my screen brightness and contrast down by half, softened the lights in the room from 2850 lumens to just nine-fifty, and took melatonin. I slept eleven hours last night. I feel so good, except for the fact that now my eyes are strained!  

Even with the sleep problem resolved, I had a bad week. Monday, I visited my father and brother, Tuesday I had my writers' meeting. Thursday I had a doctor's appointment, and had to return a library book and go to the drug store. (Note, I don't have a car. It took more time and the buses are entail a lot more than just driving). Thursday I had to take my Dad to the doctor (using my sister's car). And to top it all off, yesterday was my niece's wedding, and I though I had been excluded from it, until I heard Wednesday that I wasn't. (My relationship with my sister, that niece's mother, hasn't been good.)

I judged by how much I was able to get done on my writing the week was terrible. None. Oh, I did some polishing but I get caught up doing that and don't judge my time right. Otherwise I've been finishing the novel in reverse. That's what I call cutting more than I'm writing. I  cut a bunch of things that seemed untouchable before.

It's no longer a Ginger Snaps fan fiction. The characters that started out there are altered beyond recognition, including their names. 

Still, somehow I'm not getting any writing done in terms of the number of pages in the finished bin, I've practically gone nowhere for month. This is turning into a writer's nightmare.

I'm now scheduling and logging all my hours very strictly. Due to this week, I've learned my limits, and my time-planning is even more detailed. When I'm driven off my schedule long enough, anxiety and depression result. Probably one reason my childhood felt so awful was I couldn't get into a routine, due to the other chaos in my parents' household. Having to have that routine is a sign of some level of autism, as is the fact that I couldn't understand sarcasm, couldn't communicate with people, and hated to be touched. The last one made getting a haircut into a harrowing ordeal.


Writing didn't only save me when I was deeply depressed, I've had to alter my whole life to get it done. It hasn't been so much the lack of skill and imagination. I just didn't know when to do it.

I've refined my schedule, and know I can get four hours in a day (including blogging and journal). If novel doesn't get done withing four months now, I've truly come up with something I can't finish.