Spent a good part of the day sleeping off the exhaustion that results from psychic abuse. It was needed by the body, certainly, but even more so by my spirit.

Crawled into my metaphoric cave and shut down.

Sleep, that knits up the ravelled sleeve of care, the voice says to Macbeth:

Sleep that knits up the ravell'd sleeve of care,
The death of each day's life, sore labor's bath,
Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course,
Chief nourisher in life's feast