Heart and head

It's an odd thing, a literary head...and is it the same as a literary heart. I do a job which I love and has a place of importance in society, so I feel that I am making a difference in the world, but it is completely and utterly exhausting. However it keeps my brain busy, which makes my creative mind spark and jump.

I love to write, it gives me a sense of freedom I can't get anywhere else, and a sense of accomplishment that I only very recently been able to get from elsewhere. In the written word, at least some of the pressure and self doubt can be expressed safely. I initially started writing on a more or less constant basis about five years ago, when mental illness bit deep and the freedom of writing gave me somewhere to express the violence and anger in my head. The violence and anger is mostly gone, and part of me worried as the illness improved that the creativity would wane. This hasn't happened, and it's helped me so much.

Now, as I come to realise that while it's hard to be me sometimes, it's also hard to be you, and I actually care about it being hard for other people these days. So, there it is. I'm glad to be me now, after so long, and while I can't say I don't care what other people think of me, I don't care as long as I've done my best and behaved well towards those around me.

So, bring it on world, consider every day as new, and as long as you've been the best you can be, learn from your mistakes and never be ashamed of who you are.

To me that means my brain hates to let me sleep, but it needs to, any suggestions as to what would help me that doesn't involve sleeping pills or alcoholic poisoning?