Archives for category: Sleepless Nights

I believe I could still, to this day, easily eat an entire box of Girl Scout ‘Samoas’… but each one of those tasty temptations is 75 calories! A cookie just about 2″ across, with a hole in the middle… 75 calories. “One serving is 2 cookies.”. Huh. I believe, in practice, one serving is closer to one box. LOL. I enjoyed the two cookies, one serving, entirely mindfully… tasting the sweet caramel-y flavor… noticing for the first time the slight wax-y quality… savoring the chewy goodness… no ‘will power’ necessary, apparently… it’s pretty easy to eat just two cookies, it seems, by doing nothing else but experiencing the cookies in that moment.  Interesting.  I wonder if I would similarly be satisfied with less sex if I were able to willfully savor each element of those experiences in fullness, also? Sounds like a very fun bit of theory to validate… would emotional experiences be more profound, more meaningful, or more ‘valuable’ if I really… did something different… and felt more of/about the feeling? I’m not sure at this point what I am attempting to express… something that feels very important. Language itself is getting the way of communicating.

Let’s talk for a minute about that – about language impeding communication. “Language functions by agreement.” I’m certain I am quoting someone…but when I google the quote, I don’t find it cited anywhere/when. Frustrating. I’m quite sure it is not my original thought. lol. It seems true enough, though, doesn’t it? As logical propositions go, it’s hard to argue with productively. When we don’t have a shared definition of terms, it’s pretty easy for any two or more people to find themselves having very different conversations (and reaching different conclusions) than they – or some other participant, or audience member, may think they are having. Confusion and misunderstanding become easier (and more likely) than any real exchange of information, problem solving, or consensus building effort.

Let’s use those cookies as an example… If I say to a friend “I had a couple tasty girl scout cookies today.” and their understanding of ‘a couple’ is quite specifically ‘2’, and two cookies is what I had, then we obviously understand each other clearly. On the other hand, if I used ‘a couple’ more loosely, to indicate some ‘acceptably low number of cookies, not further specified’ and my friend understands me to mean ‘2’, and what I actually ate was an entire box of those cookies, we no longer have a meeting of the minds on simply how many cookies I ate, or a number of later possible topics of conversation… like… weight-loss goals, and personal concerns about achieving them, or matters of self-control and the relative ease or difficulty of maintaining it… Hmmmm… someone important once suggested I use ‘simple, clear language’ to be more easily understood.  I see the wisdom of it… but damn, there are sooo many fancy lovely words… I’d hate to see all those wasted! 😉

It’s a Monday, time to move on from words to numbers… I didn’t get much sleep last night, and find myself now both fatigued and distracted by things more important to me, than to the world, but the work day is here and I’ve a limited window of reliable alertness ahead of me, and putting the focus on the work at hand is now the thing. It’s a good Monday, though, a good day in general. I am, for now, enjoying my experience.

… It’s just a good day to give some acknowledgement and thanks… first, to good partners in fair mood or foul; thank you. Love is the best stuff ever.  And to the innovators and inventors, and the people who keep technology moving ever forward, thanks for smart phones, WinAmp, earbuds, and playlists that never end and keep me going. Thanks, Dave Matthews, The Rave-Ups, The Who, The Crystal Method, and a whole host of friends and strangers who have things to say that I need to hear. Thanks to good weather and miles of sidewalk… and feet that aren’t hurting.

Today got started badly, around 4:19am… something woke me, and I woke angry. Bad dreams. Big anger. I got out of bed trembling and agitated and a bit directionless. I took a few minutes to ensure the house was quiet, and all was well. A few minutes of deep breathing and meditation, and some gentle relaxing asanas, and medication. A few calm moments in the dark, and I went back to bed. I ‘restarted’ my day. Wow did that work out nicely! Awakened by Love, then a tasty latte, a good walk, some time to converse and connect before we each got on with our own plans for the day…  Now it is evening… still quiet, still calm. An old old song comes up on my playlist and I connect with myself for a moment… I feel peace and contentment gently grow into a moment of satisfaction just the tiniest bit shy of elation. It is an amazing feeling… I wish I could share it. I can only share the song – and smile. It is is meaningful for me, like part of an important conversation with myself, and it connects several threads of my tangled experience with each other.

Finishing the weekend feeling like this has me feeling also like the week to come is full of promise and the possibility of more wonderful feelings. Am I ready to be open to the best life has to offer me? Am I ready to make mindful choices that meet my needs over time? Am I ready to treat people well, and to commit to being treated well in return? Am I ready to make mistakes, and learn the lessons they offer?  (Are you?)

I walked to work with my coat unzipped this morning. ‘Winter’, sure, but 40F (that’s about 4.4 C, for the rest of the world)  isn’t really ‘winter cold’, and menopause being what it can be the cool air felt good.  I walked with a smile and a feeling of freedom – ‘light-hearted’ is actually a real feeling!  What is different about today? About this morning? I did sleep almost through the night, and never actually got up, and there were no nightmares. I woke feeling rested. Sleep really matters, I know it does in my own experience, at least…but was that it? Part of it… but… there’s more. I ‘got something I need’ over the course of a lovely chill evening of warmth and fellowship with my partners last night… I don’t know exactly what, or how to describe the nature or value of it.  I retired for the night feeling safe and warm and loved… wrapped in it, nurtured by it… my partners are wonderful people, and I am well loved. The healing power of affection and touch and simple closeness and acceptance can not be over-stated… I would write love poetry or send a Hallmark card, or buy large chunks of rare crystal wrapped in limited-availability metal of some kind if I thought any of that could be enough to demonstrate my appreciation for their love, support, and all that it means to me.

Good sleep brings relief and perspective and greater understanding… but it can not replace Love in my life, it can’t meet my need to be touched and held and cherished, and it can not adore me, or accept my love and adoration in return. Love matters on a whole other level.  I hope I spend the rest of my life learning to love well from my partners; I’d like to love them back with skill, openness and vulnerability, to be really good at love.  What could be a more awesome quality of character for a human being?

Did I mention I’m moody? I am. It’s true. I’m having a lot of sleep challenges since… well… I pretty nearly always have, at least as ‘always have’ as I can easily recollect.  Whole years have gone by without every getting an entire night’s sleep… now and then it’s nightmares, other times insomnia. Sleep and I have a difficult relationship. Lately it’s a terrible combination of restless, nightmare-filled sleep, and anxious sleepless nights interrupted by occasional longish naps that don’t restore my energy.  Annoying that mood management (both the relative ease of it, as well as the quality of the outcome) seems so closely tied to the quality and sufficiency of my sleep. I can’t really find a reason to be in a bad mood, but I can feel it lurking at the corners of my mouth, turning every effort at a smile into some grim suspicious visage that certainly isn’t bringing anyone any cheer around here. I feel… guarded. I hesitate to be open or vulnerable, or inadvertently be real enough, for just a moment, that the dike of my will power might give way to the tears crowding in line behind my eyes.  Fuck all these tears.  I angrily tell myself ‘I am so done with crying!’  Even though I know it is the angry bravado of fear, I lean on it like a cane for a moment, just to get past that feeling of teetering on a precipice.  There’s work to be done.

I do something nice for myself… I take a deep breath, ask a loved one for emotional support in a clear and simple way, uncluttered, unexplained – still trying to respect boundaries, and limits – feeling a bit like a tiny kitten seeking solace from a huge guard dog. Hoping for the best, trusting love, and finding that like so many things, the fear is far far scarier all by itself than any probable outcome.

What hurts me most on a day like this one, is that I can poke around in my experience and clearly recognize how loved I am, how much support I do have from my loved ones. I ache with shame and frustration that I feel so disconnected and wounded and alien.  I have a good life.  It’s rich with love, and Love, and beauty – we have a good home together, shared values and goals, and our necessities are covered… a good life. It’s only my own very subjective experience with myself that sucks so completely, right now.  It gets ugly in here sometimes.

Walking in to the office today, I watched the sullen moody clouds of the morning sky and mused for a time how many times in my life I’ve watch stormy clouds with a stormy heart, tears on the edge of falling like the rain I know is in the distance.  It’s a familiar feeling, they are familiar thoughts, and they have a song.  If I had a soundtrack to my life, this would definitely be on it.  Especially this bit (credit to Pete Townsend):

On the dry and dusty road
The nights we spend apart alone
I need to get back home to cool, cool rain

I can’t sleep, and I lay, and I think
The night is hot and black as ink
Oh God, I need a drink of cool, cool rain

I need a new playlist.  One that focuses me, moves me forward, and helps me ‘rebuild the lost city’ (and no I can’t really explain what I mean, they’re just words being used to attempt to describe a feeling I don’t have a word for).  What would be on it? That’s a list for another day.

I had an eventful weekend.

My Friday was pretty emotionally intense, and wonderfully promising. It was also a sort of ‘pampering me’ day, as it turned out; I got a great haircut and style from a new stylist at a cool shop, and a little more ‘me time’ on the personal aesthetic front later in the day. I wish I could also say that those elements of my weekend nurtured and restored my soul, but that’s not what it was.

My Saturday was strange, moody and productive, sort of detached. I worked at this and that to ease my anxiety and my emotional fatigue; pruned the roses, baked some shortbread. It was a decent day – it had, in fact, all the elements of an actually good day, but I felt like I was ‘going through the motions’ most of the day, and the challenges offered by every day life and the ebb and flow of other people’s experiences and emotions pulled at my heart. Evening was good in spite of the effort the day itself required, and the day ended well, really well. So… ‘no complaints’?

Sunday was hard to call, initially… was it a good day? A bad day? A difficult day? I was moody, tense, anxious, and working my ass off to shrug it off and avoid negatively coloring the weekend for my partners; it was their anniversary. I could not allow myself to blow that, and I probably put a lot of extra pressure on myself over it that I could have done without. This ‘human being’ thing is a more difficult puzzle than it appears from the vantage point of youthful daydreams.  As it turned out, though, Sunday was… amazing.  I did a few chores and ran some errands in the morning, kissed my partners and headed out into the world, and… wow. The World was right there waiting for me.

I had a pretty powerful moment in the Portland Art Museum, which has quite a good modern art collection for a relatively small city museum. I added the museum to my agenda as an afterthought, actually, and arrived only a couple hours before they closed. None of that matters.  What matters is running into old friends, and what matters is this.  Right? Maybe that’s not obvious… It’s “Untitled”, 1987, Peter Schuyff.  Seeing it yesterday was an experience. I saw a lot of paintings, and sculpture, and glass work that I enjoyed a lot. “Untitled” really got me on a different level. I sat in front of it, just looking and feeling it – letting my body feel how I would position the canvas, set up the layout, work the piece to get those effects – and as I relaxed into the moment and felt that painting ‘become’ part of my thinking and understanding, it became more real and more whole and I saw more and more of it. I felt – taken beyond myself, somehow revealing an inner core ‘strength of being’ I have been unable to feel for a while. I understood what I saw, and I experienced a feeling of confidence and certainty and a secure sense of self that couldn’t be shaken by some moment of pain, however ancient, however evil. No harm could come to me through the strength I had revealed to myself, from within my own being. I am still pretty wowed. It was quite…  something, and I needed it. Like slaking a days old thirst in the heat of the desert with cold clear spring water, like the ‘a-ha!’ moment at the front of the classroom, like the last punctuation mark on a moment of literary wonder… that moment in time, with that painting, meant more to me than words can capture here. I hope to keep it, as safe and precious as a lover’s photo in a locket, and look at it often and feel my soul restored again and again. Art has power so far beyond mere words.

My elation lasted much of the evening, and lingered in my thoughts when I dropped off to sleep, satisfied with the day, and the weekend.  I was still smiling and thinking thoughts of Art and feeling inspired to paint, and more than just pain and woe, too… and the smile deepened and remained my companion throughout the morning, after spending a few minutes on Love, and coffee. The things that matter don’t have to be things other people find valuable or important, I guess I just have to know what they are, for myself, to keep them high on my list of priorities.  So far a good week.