Archives for category: Sleepless Nights

Today was… weird. I don’t remember now what sort of mood I was in, first thing. I think it was good.

My mood was fragile when I connected with my partner and we stopped for lunch together. I am making a lot of progress, and pursuing therapy this time is actually getting me somewhere – but I’m investing my will in this, it isn’t easy. I’m often more than usually emotional after my appointment, and feel raw and over-exposed. I appreciate it when I can get a couple really quiet hours to myself afterward, to get my bearings, and take a few deep breaths.  Sort things out, and develop a deeper understanding.

Today did not go that way.

The evening is winding down, now. In general, the day had a lot of value to it, and a lot to enjoy. I’m hoping that tomorrow morning those are the things most prominent in my memory, while the moments of discontent, and distress dissipate into the fog of what is forgotten.

I didn’t spend much time viewing the world through a lens. Today I used my eyes. Still – a couple pictures, and I’ve been looking at them and wanting them to say something more than they do. I do like a good metaphor. I’m not so sharp this evening. So…perhaps you see something I don’t see.

A single flower in autumn.

A single flower in autumn.

A shrub in bloom.

A shrub in bloom.

...Yeah...I don't know...I should have read the title.

…Yeah…I don’t know…I should have read the title.

 

 

Another strangely restless night, although I woke feeling refreshed and calm when it was done. Three days of disturbed sleep, now – or is it four? Why am I counting? Had I slept deeply and well for so long that this really seems… unusual? Wow. That’s an interesting way to reflect on real progress, growth, and change. lol.

This morning I don’t have much to say. I’ve a nice cup of coffee, not the best beans – so not the best brew. I’m satisfied with it, nonetheless. It doesn’t take that much this morning; I am content.

Rather than type a thousand words, I’ll share some pictures this morning and hope they carry something of value into your day. 😀

The last of the autumn roses, at dawn.

The last of the autumn roses, at dawn.

Down the road, across the field, along the way; here, too, autumn.

Down the road, across the field, along the way; here, too, autumn.

Autumn in suburban treetops.

Autumn in suburban treetops.

Autumn is my favorite season. It isn’t just the colors as the leaves change, it is something about the quality of light, the scents in the air, the feel of morning fog, and afternoon sunshine, a difference in the way the rain falls – or is it something else? I only know it is my favorite, and here I am with another autumn day ahead of me, filled with potential.

Today I will enjoy the joy I feel without reservations or fear that someone will come along and ‘take it all away’.

 

 

 

Yesterday was lovely. The work day went smoothly, in that how-could-this-be-better sort of smoothness work days sometimes have. The walk home became a ride home when my partner reached out with the offer of a ride, just as I was realizing my notion to walk the 5k route again wasn’t planned with my fatigue and general physical condition of the day in mind.  The evening continued in the same pleasant way, and I actually did get to bed earlier, on-time-ish enough not to mess with my routine was my hope.

A sparkling autumn afternoon.

A sparkling autumn afternoon.

My night didn’t go so smoothly. I woke abruptly at 2:30 am, gripped by anxiety and dread, barely able to take a breath. My chest felt tight, and as I sit here considering it, I face an internal deluge of words to describe fear and anxiety, and little else; content capable of taking me over and leading me away from contentment. I got up, put on dim lights, and began going through the motions of regaining calm: breathing, yoga, meditation, a shower, more breathing, more yoga, a few mindful moments settling into the ‘now’… just after 3:00 am was when I took my first fully deep and actually satisfying breath. I remember it because at the time I thought “Huh, I wasn’t actually breathing deeply at all, this whole time!” Then, I took 4 or 5 really good deep calming breaths and felt my consciousness shift from real fear and panic, to the residual low-level anxiety that sometimes lingers once I’ve gotten past the bad bit.  I was able to return to sleep.  For the second day in row, I woke to my alarm clock, feeling groggy.

It’s a peaceful solitary morning, in spite of the difficulties of the night.  The fear I woke with has faded into words about the experience, which are much less scary than the feelings themselves. I may never know what the anxiety in the night was actually ‘about’… but, with a brain injury, PTSD, a lifelong history of sleep disturbances (seriously, since I was a toddler) adding to the natural emotional ups and downs of going through menopause – do I actually need root-cause analysis? Isn’t life enough? lol

Day two of seriously poor quality sleep starting my day. I do feel it.  Taking care of me, and meeting my own needs where I can, includes getting adequate rest – this isn’t it.  Maybe tonight will be better.  I find myself silently reviewing ‘the sleep list’ of things I can do to improve my sleep…  it is, however, morning. Time to face the day.

 

I woke this morning after a night short on hours, long on dreams, and restless, very restless.  I woke a number of times during the night, returning to sleep with little effort.  My dreamscape was lively, surreal, and oddly persuasive on a number of random details that now seem to rate further thought by daylight.  I woke very groggy, to the strident beeping of my infernal alarm clock – it is rare to be asleep when it goes off, and it isn’t my preferred way to wake up.   I dragged my sluggish body down the hall and dumped myself in a cooler than usual shower hoping to find a legitimate state of waking consciousness I could count on for the start of the work week, and afterward made what can only be called the worst mocha ever made, which I steadfastly consumed without (until now) complaint.

I settled down to meditate, and didn’t get far with that; one of my loves joined me for morning coffee and conversation. We don’t overlap much with our schedules, he and I, and any time we have together is precious.  Email can wait, chores can wait, writing can wait; I cherish those brief quiet times together, so this morning even meditation took a back seat to love.  I’m okay with that. The time we had to share was so very brief.  Again and again my thoughts return to the morning, and a feeling of mild regret that I wasn’t more awake.  My thoughts ricochet around in my broken brain and I think of “Time Enough for Love” by Robert A. Heinlein. No reason beyond the title, I suspect, but it is an amazing tale of adventure, of love, of living a life wide open to endless possibilities, and above all – of being human.  If Heinlein hadn’t written anything more than the title, he’d have said enough.  I wish I’d known the value of love much sooner in my life.

Foggy morning

Foggy morning

The work day got under way in a most ordinary fashion.  Eventually it will end and I will head home.  If the weather is pleasant, I may repeat my 5k walk of last Sunday, to experience it in nice weather on dry pavement, and to confirm my suspicion that I’m actually sufficiently fit at this point that I could do it easily every week and gain a little more ground toward my fitness goals.  I’m so tired, though… will taking care of me mean getting to bed earlier, tonight, or will I choose, again, in favor of time with my dear ones? (One short night isn’t a big deal.  If I make a habit of it, the cognitive and emotional consequences become obvious pretty quickly!)

I’m still feeling a bit foggy.  Sleep would be good… but it is hours away,  In the meantime, work, and later chores, and assorted tasks on a lengthy ‘to do’ list, compete with any hope of an early bed time. lol. Welcome to adulthood.

It is a lovely sunny day, now.  I’m still thinking about sleep, and love, and romance, and how to bring new tools and skills forward into my every day experience.

…Oops…I’ve run out of words. lol. I’ll be back with more soon… In the meantime, I plan to go forth and live well and with compassion.  How about you?

I am awake before dawn, on a morning I had hoped to ‘sleep in’.  The rain is pounding insistently on the skylight, lest I overlook that it is raining. I enjoy rain, and the sound of it is slowly soothing my raw nerves. I woke face to face with my PTSD, in the form of profound anxiety, fear, a pounding heart, and a distinct awareness that ‘something’s wrong’.

It was quickly clear what woke me, when a firm click of a door elsewhere communicated what it could; frustration, hurt, anger, a limit reached, a moment passed… doors do not communicate with specificity, and it isn’t really possible to ask a door a clarifying question.  I dislike communication via door, whether it is a slammed door, or a firmly shut door, or simply a closed door that blocks communication in a non-verbal-message-sending way.  Doors lack precision for communication. So do drawers, windows, dishwashers, refrigerators, and all manner of household tasks and processes. These are not the tools of clear explicit compassionate communication, any more than yelling is.  We each have so much potential to communicate more clearly than via door – but I too have slammed a door, more than once.  😦

I am working on taking the approach that there is something to be learned here, or progress to be made – for me.  Maybe a chance to learn not to let doors talk to me in the first place? A door clicks closed; I hear the hurt feelings and rejection. Another click, firm and solid and no-nonsense; I may hear resolve and anger. Another click, a different room, a different hand perhaps; I could hear the sorrow, regret, and stress. The doors click closed. They open.  Occasional voices, and I put some space between my consciousness and the words; privacy matters, and it is a matter of respect and consideration.  We all have rough moments, bad times, things to work through. How do I take care of me when private matters between others impinge on my consciousness and drive my symptoms? Well, this morning, I meditated, then got up – sleep clearly wasn’t going to be possible at this level of wariness and anxiety – a latte just the way I like it [vanilla syrup, 4 shots of espresso, whole milk], and some quiet moments contemplating the falling rain.

This morning is an improvement over similar past mornings; I am calm.  I have a pretty serious aversion to angry confrontations, just in general.  Right now I am pleased to find that I am able to have my own experience, without becoming mired in unpleasantness borrowed from someone else’s experience.  A clear (and highly valued) improvement, for me, although I have to admit I don’t necessarily ‘understand’ this change on a level that would allow me to break it down by steps to see what exactly I am doing for this result.

I am able to have my own experience… this morning that has includes some moments of anger at being awakened on one of the rare days I could sleep in.  My experience includes feeling a bit uncomfortable about being able to overhear moments of private conversation, and regret that valued privacy isn’t ‘a given’ (pretty easy to hear through these walls).  My experience also includes feeling cheated out of a lovely morning with my loves, and some irritation about that, and recognition that the morning is far from over. Even sympathy, compassion, and sadness make an appearance this morning.  My feelings don’t seem unreasonable – and this morning they have not dominated my experience, or overwhelmed me. I felt them. I heard myself, and understand what my feelings say about my needs, and my now. Making room in my heart for my own feelings didn’t seem much of a challenge this morning… another improvement.

A rainy autumn sky.

A rainy autumn sky.

It’s later now.  It’s been about 2 hours since I woke to the sound of a door clicking closed. I’ve almost finished my latte. Daybreak has come, and the gray pre-dawn sky has shifted just a bit toward blue, still sullen, gray, and stormy. The trees beyond the window do a slow hula in the wind.  The house is snug and warm, and quiet.  I didn’t get to sleep in, but these quiet hours are precious to me,  and this morning they will not be interrupted by the realization that it is already time to go to work. That may be worth the unpleasant wake-up call.  The trees outside are whipped back and forth for a moment, as if nodding in agreement.  A difficult start to the morning, but it is no predictor of the day to come, and my ‘now’ is actually quite pleasant and serene.

There are only so many days, hours, minutes, ahead of us… and so much to yearn for, to learn, to do… today is Saturday, so for me it will be about mostly practical matters at home: laundry, gardening, a water change for the aquarium, getting ready for a new week and having a quick tidy ’round, in general.  These quite hours before the more organized hustle of task completion, and checking things off a ‘to do’ list, are precious, indeed. I enjoy taking some time for me.  🙂