I am so very broken

I lost track of how many night terrors I had last night. I don't remember them at all, but I remember my heart racing so fast afterwards that it felt like it might just leap out of my chest and get a room at the Holiday Inn so that it could get some rest for pete's sake. I also remember John getting very frustrated at being violently woken up so very many times. And I distinctly remember feeling very small afterwards, so very small and so very broken. I must have laid awake for at least half an hour at one point, not daring to fall back asleep lest John and my heart decided then and there to leave forever and never look back. Night terrors are such tricky things, so ill-understood by doctors and sleep specialists that the only things they can prescribe are sedatives to knock you out and force you to sleep through the night. That's not the kind of life I want to live. So I remain, at 30 years old, perpetually wary of sleep, and so very broken.