It has been a week of it. I got back from my bridal shower (which was lovely, by the way) to find out that my move-out situation from my old house has hit yet more financial snags, my mother is in the hospital again, and someone close to me is getting a divorce. I guess bad news really does travel in threes. Ugh.
In spite of all of that, I have endeavored to get into my writing some more, and I have succeeded in getting a solid twenty pages of revision done this evening. For more information on that, I suggest you check out my writing blog.
The reason for the late night is an ill-timed three hour nap I took with my fiance. In spite of the poor timing, it ended up working out in my favor. I have been needing and itching to get work done for a while.
Speaking of my fiance, he hunted around to find me some useful Gaelic learning material and downloaded it for me. I get warm fuzzies thinking about it. He also asked me about my desire to learn the language and listened when I prattled on about it for some time. I can’t wait to start working on it more.
The wedding is six weeks away. I cannot believe it is so close now. What a trip. Married. Me. John’s parents are coming into town next weekend to go over some more wedding stuff with us. We’re getting into crunch time now. I’m starting to get the calls about flight times and questions about sleeping arrangements and all of that. John and I definitely need to book some of our tickets for the honeymoon and secure our rental car. So much to do, and an ever-decreasing amount of time to do it in.
Okay. I think I am going to see if I can get a few hours of sleep before my double tomorrow. I still have a bit of a long weekend ahead of me.
Okay, I gotta complain for a second. Sorry.
I am so tired of being tired all…the…time. I’m sure the long-term effects of sleep deprivation are somewhat as serious as alcoholism or drug abuse. Possibly zombification. Basically, I’ve been living on 2-4 hours of sleep a night every weekday for the past nine months, and my body is just shutting down. I am beginning to fall asleep pretty much anywhere, only to be startled awake half the time by pounding waves of anxiety and a bitter taste in my mouth. I get headaches every day. I’ve gotten three migraines in the last six weeks. This is not normal. This is not good.
I consider myself lucky if I manage to get six or seven hours of sleep in a night. Even on weekends it’s hard for me to sleep soundly and wake up rested because the anxiety is so bad. I can’t relax. It’s been like this for months. I only have three more weeks to make it through. I hope I can manage it. It’s to the point that I can’t sit down on my bed after work without falling asleep. I managed to make it three days this week without napping like that and got a little extra sleep, but then last night I tossed and turned until 4 again, and bam, I’m back in the pain cage.
I sincerely believe that some of us are not built for mornings. And the world is not built for us.
…Actually, I prefer hypnopompic rebel. Simply said, I don’t think people should have to be confined to the sleep hours prescribed by the 9-5 grind. I have never been a morning person, I cannot adapt myself to that schedule despite years of trying, and I sincerely doubt that I ever will be a morning person. The only time I’m okay with seeing that godawful hour of 6 a.m. is when I’m looking at the back of its head. Its bright blue eyes staring me in the face are the absolute last things I want to see when I wake up. Ugh.
When I was a young’un, I used to stay up until 2 or so in the morning simply reading by my nightlight. Of course I got in trouble for it, but that never stopped me. Going to bed at 9 never worked for me. I clearly remember being in 4th or 5th grade and watching the lime green digits on my alarm clock keep on turning and turning as the hours would pass. I feel like I’ve been tired my whole life because the world simply is not built for people like me.
I’ve tried drugging myself. I’ve tried staying up all night and all the next day. I’ve tried getting up early even on weekends. It. Never. Works. Here it is, at ten till 2 on a Monday (technically Tuesday now) night, and I am bright eyed and bushy tailed. I would stay up all night again, but I have stuff to do tomorrow.
I read something a few months ago that talked about sleep habits being governed by genetics. My mother is the same as me. Her normal hours to sleep are somewhere between 5 a.m. and noon. I function just fine on 6 hours of sleep, sometimes as little as 3 or 4. However, that sleep is ultimately more beneficial to me if it falls between 3 and 11 rather than 12 and 8. I don’t know if that makes any sense at all to anyone but me, but there it is. My boyfriend is the same way.
My sleep schedule is one of the largest reasons I was hesitant to take my current job. And finding a job conducive to my schedule is going to be a prerequisite when I start hunting again. If you know anyone hiring in Rockville for shifts between 11 and 8, do let me know.
My schedule isn’t really that different from someone who works a 9-5. I still like to get up, go straight to work, come home, and have a nice evening. I just do it on a delay of several hours, in which breakfast (if there is one) is around noon, lunch is at 4 or 5, and dinner is at 9 or 10. I then go to bed at 3 or 4 and wake up again at 11. It works just fine for me. Normal. So why is the rest of the world so different? Sigh.
I’m not going to take any of my meds tonight. They leave me far too groggy when I wake up, and on Friday, I was so groggy I turned off my alarm clock. Hardly surprising when I only got 2 hours of sleep, but still. Not particularly endearing to the bosses.
Well. On that note, I’m off to see if sleep evades me or not. For me, going to bed at 2 is like the average person hitting the hay around 7:30 or 8. But we’ll see if I can make it work. Going to bed before midnight makes me feel like I’ve completely lost my evening. Night is such a peaceful time. It’s quiet and comfortable. I’ve always liked the night. It only makes sense that it’s my natural habitat.
i’ve just teared up for the second time in a few hours. the first was because i watched the bucket list, and aside from the point the movie was trying to make, i couldn’t help but be moved by ray’s wife. it shows in the movie that theirs was a love that had fallen into ruin over the course of years. yet when he came home finally, she lit up like a young girl. she was ready to put on her sexy lingerie and make love to her husband…only to have him collapse on the floor and then die days later. my heart wrenched for her as she came out of the bathroom glowing. and saw her husband’s twitching legs on the other side of the bed. to see her smile change to absolute agony was really…affecting. she’s a secondary character in the film, and i felt like her story was tragic and painful.
i teared up again tonight talking to an old friend. i’ve known him since 2006 — we were in poland together. he told me the story of how his girlfriend and he got together. it’s a beautiful story — they met four years ago and had a summer romance and never forgot about each other. she found his number last november, and now they’re together, although they live three hours apart. that’s not what made me teary though…sweet as it is.
karsten told me that i am strong. he was the second person this late night to say that to me, and it kind of got to me. today was a surreal day. got up, was going to go to the arboretum, ended up doing paperwork for tfa and then going to see star trek…in the midst of the hum drum, i got a friend request on my second facebook account from an unwelcome source — a source i blocked on my normal account months and months ago — and a package of very odd easter trinkets from my dad, from whom i’ve barely heard in months. he called me literally about 20 minutes after i got picked up at the airport last week here. add to that a couple other slightly odd (but not bad) happenings and a bout of my chronic insomnia, and i was feeling a little less than strong. karsten went on to say that he’s always thought i was a very strong person. maybe i am, but i don’t feel like it.
a lot of the time i’m confused. i don’t know what is expected of me. i tend to be so blunt and candid that i forget that most people aren’t used to that. there are all these nuances of human interaction that escape me. i feel unsure of myself and nervous about how i’m perceived. and i hate that something so arbitrary as a facebook friend request can send my heart into flutters and tie my stomach into knots. i hate that i get nervous and a bit tongue-tied and shy. there is so much to my personality that a lot of people never get to know because i’m afraid to let it show. it’s stupid. i’ve come out of my shell a lot, and i really like myself, but even when i feel strong, i never think of others seeing me that way. not sure why that is.
so i teared up at that. karsten told me that he thinks it’s amazing that i live my life and do what i need to do, wherever it takes me. i always figure that people just see me as flighty. i spend so much time trying to…i guess offer up what i have to give and wanting so much to share myself that i think i’m afraid it falls by the wayside. not so much that it goes unnoticed but that it goes noticed and unwanted. it’s almost five a.m., and i’m really not sure what i’m trying to say here.
i guess that…after an odd sort of day…watching a new day dawn from my own bed, i feel strangely hopeful. maybe there’s hope for me after all. so many things in my life right now seem to be falling into place. some neatly with virtually no effort, others that will take work. right now, at this moment, i feel like every one of them is worth the effort. so i’ll keep moving forward and see where i end up — with teach for america, with washington dc, with people. everything right now is the product of months of striving, toil, wondering, planning, hoping, working, and waiting. and i’ll see it all through to the best of my ability. maybe that’s strength. if it is, i’ll take it.