Not feeling like a good cause

Threw out the keys again last night.  This time down the drain and Cam, against his usual policy of not touching me when I'm asleep, took my hand when I tried to turn on the garbage disposal. I didn't insist, and after a minute I seemed to forget what I'd gotten up to do in the first place, so since he was still holding my hand he led me back to the bedroom.  I slept peacefully the rest of the night.

He doesn't want to tell me these things because he's afraid of upsetting me, but I make him. It's more upsetting not to know what my body is up to when I'm not looking.

Is this worse than nightmares?

Absolutely not. For me, anyway.  Cam's the one who has to be on guard duty. He says he doesn't mind, but I think it's starting to wear him out.  He's tired all the time now.

He doesn't want me to worry about that.

"I was tired all the time before, dummy," Cam said.  "I'm a student.  That's my job."

This is different.

"Not so much."

Anyway, being tired all the time before was for a good cause.  Doing work you like.  Getting a degree.  Staying up nights to babysit somebody who doesn't know enough to stay in bed after she falls asleep is just stupid.

"Yeah, well, call me weird," Cam said.  "I like it."

Stop it.

"It's true. I don't mean I won’t be glad when you start feeling happier, more peaceful.  But I like being there when you need me."

I didn't know what to say to that.

"Try finishing what you were trying to tell about before," Cam said.  "In your journal.  Finish up with when we met.  And maybe a little more about why.  Maybe we'll both be able to sleep a little better if you do."

Or maybe I could just never ever think about anything that's happened to me ever again.  I bet I'd be happy and peaceful then.

But he won't believe that.