I've got the Christmas blahs. I hate this time of year. I can't sleep, even with the full dose of my sleep meds. Maybe it is because part of my subconscience doesn't want to face the nightmares again.

I'm coming up on the anniversary of my adoption/transfer date. It will have been 32 years on December 27 that I was brought over here on an airplane and dumped into the abusive arms of total strangers. I was four months old. And I'd been abandoned three times prior to this. This time, I was being left off in a foreign country (the US) with strangers. Even the clothes I had worn on the plane trip from Korea were taken away.

And every night I lie awake for hours, in a semi-hypnotic state from the temazepam I take. But I don't sleep. Eventually I sleep, and then the nightmares come. I hate Christmastime.