Archives for category: Sleepless Nights

The past 48 hours are mostly a blur of smudgy unclear recollections and emotional impressions. Keeping up with my Traveling Partner’s care, particularly making sure medications are all taken on time, at proper intervals and dosages, is keeping me pretty busy. Juggling those details with work, and the self-care required to keep up with “all the things” has resulted in interrupted sleep, emotionality, and a generous helping of “stupid” moments. This too will pass; it’s a temporary situation. It’s generally enough to do my best.

… The tl;dr is that I’m tired, so tired, and haven’t slept well, deeply, or for more than a couple hours at a time these past couple of days…

Sunrise and a new beginning.

I woke ahead of my alarm this morning and watered the lawn, and helped my partner with his medication. I’d have rather gone directly back to bed and tried to get more sleep, but I also knew my partner had a difficult night of interrupted sleep himself. Better for his ability to rest for me to give him some quiet time. I slipped away to catch the sunrise on the trail, and the Anxious Adventurer left for work moments later.

… And here I am…

The sun rose a bold magenta betwixt thunder clouds. Once or twice lightning flashed across the sky. By the time I got here to the trailhead, thunder was breaking the quiet of the morning, frequently. No rain. Not right now, anyway, though it appears that some rain fell during the night. I find myself wishing for rain. (Thunder storms without rain this time of year are a deadly threat of wildfires.) I sit for a moment before lacing up my boots for a walk.

My head aches ferociously this morning, a combination of my “usual” headache, and lack of rest. I breathe, exhale, and relax. It’s less than ideal to let it become the focus of my day; I have too much shit to do.

My longtime friend, The Author, had planned to visit this weekend, but got COVID and if he makes it at all, the timing is yet to be determined. Disappointing. My Dear Friend’s celebration of life memorial is today, but I won’t make it; I’m not up to the long drive at the last minute, and regardless, my Traveling Partner needs my care and support. While I am considering these circumstances, a drenching tropical sort of rain begins to pound the car (I pull my feet back into the car and close the door). I think about the recent (Wednesday, 3 days ago) death of my Aunt…

…Then the tears begin to fall, with the rain…

Sometimes it just all feels like too much. I sigh, letting the tears fall without taking them personally. No reason to fight the moment. This is “my time”, and if this is what I need right now, okay. After some minutes, I blow my nose and just sit listening to the thunder and the rain, wondering about the lightning strike risk on the trail… It wouldn’t do to get hit by lightning today, I just don’t have time. lol

This morning I feel very mortal and very much aware how temporary it all really is. Life. So brief. So precious.

… I didn’t come prepared to walk through a drenching downpour, but I am sure enjoying just sitting here listening to the storm…

A different sort of quiet moment.

I sit listening to the rain, fighting the confusion and dimwittedness of fatigue. I could probably get a couple things done, since it doesn’t look like I’ll be walking… My mind feels numb. What is on my list, anyway? I scrounge around in my consciousness rather halfheartedly, instead of just looking at my damned list. The growl and loud crack of thunder along with a dazzling flash of very close lightning startles me. It seemed “just over there”, visibly, identifiably nearby. Scary. Distracting.

G’damn beginning again is easier when I get the rest I need… I don’t quite manage to laugh, and sigh again instead. I decide to quietly take my time sorting myself out, before tackling some task or another. There’s no reason to rush. I’ve got time to take care of myself. Self-care matters, too.

I sit for some unmeasured amount of time, reflecting on gratitude and joy. Thinking over the best of recent moments and savoring the recollections. I feel so grateful for my Traveling Partner, and the enduring love we share. It gets us through a lot. We’ve managed to snarl at each other far too often the last few days, as pain, fatigue, and frustration overcame our good nature in some difficult moment. We get past it. Exchange apologies. Make amends when we can. Our hearts know the way, even when we go astray – very human. All things considered, I guess we’re doing pretty well, generally. It’s hard sometimes, but there’s no lack of love. Humans being human; sometimes it’s complicated.

It’s probably time to begin again, but…

… I’m enjoying listening to the rain fall. That’s okay too.

I’m drinking my coffee and catching up on work. It feels an eternity since I’ve logged into work tools, but it’s been more or less a long weekend, just busy and about as far removed from my professional work as it could possibly be. Feels strange, and oddly comforting to be back to work.

My headache woke with me, and it is ferocious this morning. My sleep was interrupted at scheduled intervals through the night to provide my Traveling Partner with care as he recovers from his surgery. The surgery went well. So far the recovery is going well, too, it seems. It’s complicated by volatile emotions on all sides, and the quantity of potentially mind-altering prescription drugs involved doesn’t make that “easier”, at all. Whether tempers or tears, when feelings flare up and escalate, I keep finding my way (unsteadily, awkwardly, doggedly) back to some sort of calm – which feels like progress. I don’t think I could have managed this as well as I am ten years ago. I bet I could manage it better another 10 years from now. Progress. Incremental change over time. We become what we practice.

…I’ll say that one again, because it’s super super important; we become what we practice. If your default is tears, tantrums, and drama, I promise you’ll get very skilled at those behaviors, and those will be the increasingly common outcomes. If you practice calm, you become calm. It’s that simple. (Which is not to say that it is “easy” – it’s isn’t easy at all, and it requires a lot of practice, and persistence.) For me, the hardest part is breaking old habitual behaviors and reactions. I’ve become pretty hard to provoke in the context of my professional life, which is great. I’m often still quite vulnerable to provocation in the context of intimate relationships. (That’s probably pretty commonplace.) Lately, all of it is further complicated by this fucking headache that follows me everywhere.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I’ve taken my meds, had a big glass of water, and I’ve got this excellent cup of coffee. No walk today, which feels weird, but I need to be here at specific times to care for my Traveling Partner. I’m tired – it’s something to be mindful of, because it holds the risk of volatility as my fatigue deepens later in the day. Maybe I’ll get a walk in later? I notice that my thoughts are less than ideally well organized. I’m distracted by my headache, and by my awareness that my partner is in the other room; I’m alert for the sound of his voice expressing a need or a want, or some opportunity to provide him with support. Competing priorities on top of this headache and my fatigue…I could be a mess right now, but I think I’m mostly okay, which is nice to be able to count on, today.

Don’t forget to slow down and enjoy the journey.

Sometimes it feels like the journey from hell to some better place is endless…but…so much of this human experience is relative. I think back on other experiences, other days, other moments. I reflect on the Parable of the Mire. It wasn’t all that long ago that I was truly mired, myself. It has been a long journey – a worthy journey. A “heroes journey”, in a sense. I mean…I am having my own experience, and this is my journey, my tale, my adventure. I have another sip of coffee and think another thought. I reflect on the “wrong notes” and recent missteps, and what I could have done differently. I rehearse “better” (more desirable) behavior in my head, playing out dialogue that went wrong with different words, different reactions, “practicing” different “scripts” for better results more closely aligned with my values, hoping to do a better job of being the woman I most want to be “next time” (there’s always a next time). I remind myself that it isn’t all about me, and that I can’t control the behavior or reactions of others. I think about the importance of non-attachment, and the risk of becoming “fused” with someone else’s emotional experience, and how best to avoid that risk.

…We become what we practice…

…Fuck, I hope the typing doesn’t prevent my partner getting the rest he needs (it’s a pretty quiet keyboard, though)…

I take a moment to think about recent successes. Small things like my Traveling Partner thanking me for good caregiving matter a lot, and they add up over time. I think, too, about progress toward personal goals, like losing some weight (20lbs or so now), and clearing my task list. I give myself some time to sit with successes, joys, and pleasant recollections. (A useful practice for building a more positive general experience and attitude toward life.)

I put my focus back on work. It’s time to begin again.

I’m sitting at the trailhead. I meant to be walking, but as I set off, my right leg buckled at the knee. I didn’t fall; I had my cane in my hand and steadied myself… but for the moment, I don’t trust my legs. Life, too, feels suddenly unsteady and unpredictable. I mean, I guess that makes sense; it is.

My thoughts careen through my consciousness. I didn’t sleep well last night. My Traveling Partner needed care during the night and woke me. I was groggy and stupid and not very helpful. I didn’t understand what was needed. Hell, I barely understood where I was in the first place. When my worthless efforts were abruptly dismissed, I attempted to return to sleep… It was nightmares, pain, and wakefulness from there. Less than ideal for the day ahead, which I took off from work to care for my Traveling Partner as he recovers from surgery. My consciousness is scattered, fragmented, and chaotic. I’m tired and fragile.

… I’m also doing my best…

I remind myself that this is only a moment. Temporary. It will pass, and change is. Nonetheless I feel low, beat down, and sorrowful. I’m tired and triggered, reminded of a time long ago and a very different earlier relationship, from which I am grateful to have escaped alive. This isn’t that, it’s just a challenging time and sometimes it’s hard to do the needful sufficiently well. I feel grateful for so many other things – I focus on the gratitude, the positives, and the kind, gracious and appreciative words my partner has shared over recent months. I breathe, exhale, and relax.

… Some things in life just aren’t about me at all…

My tinnitus rings loudly in my ears. My head aches. I observe the discomfort and let my mind move on. It doesn’t alleviate my pain to do so, it just prevents me from making my pain my whole world, for a little while, sometimes. My results vary.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I sit quietly wondering what the future may hold, and where this path leads. I consider and reconsider what I really want in life, and contemplate whether the path ahead of me leads to that outcome at all… There are things I’d like to change. There are things I regret saying or doing (and not saying or not doing). It’s a very human journey.

… I think quietly about my Traveling Partner on this journey…

My partner pings me, frustrated, tired, and hurting. He can’t sleep and struggles to find any way to be comfortable after surgery. He’s pretty hard to live with right now (understandable), and has insisted that both the Anxious Adventurer and I leave so he can rest. We reluctantly do. What else can we do?

… Fucking hell, caregiving is hard

I sit quietly, recalling my Traveling Partner before his injury, before his pain became unmanageable. I think about him – and us – in the “beginning”. I wonder how to go about restoring that beautiful vibe, and wonder if it will slowly return because it’s who we are and how we love, or if life has changed us “too much” over time and circumstances? I remind myself, too, that my mood and thinking are colored by recent events and present fatigue and stress. I breathe and let go.

I make room for gratitude, and think about things that have gone well. Doing this is often enough to lift me out of a funk, maybe it will today?

…In any case, I definitely need to begin again.

Well, shit. Every now and then, just when I start feeling like maybe I’m “well” and whole, and not beat down by bullshit and baggage, and perhaps just maybe there’s something like a “happily ever after” potentially lurking around the next bend in the path… I have a day like today. It’s been a wild ride…

I spilled my Traveling Partner’s coffee early in the morning, mere minutes before we needed to leave for an appointment we could not risk being late for. It didn’t take long to clean up, but it disrupted my calm rather a lot.

The drive into the city got going pretty nicely, except for some reason my Traveling Partner’s phone wasn’t pairing, and once it did, it seemed all his personalized settings for the truck were gone. Annoying. Negative emotions carry a certain unfortunate contagion, too. It was less than ideal.

Traffic was routine, but the route the GPS selected, while familiar, was the most likely to be congested, and it was pretty annoying to drive past a turn that could have taken me down pleasant country roads. That’s on me though, eh? I know GPS is not “AI” – no intelligence, no understanding, no context to the decision-making. I could have chosen differently, but decided against it. My reasoning was poor, and I paid for that.

We got to the appointment in plenty of time, but in the process of getting the truck parked…well…I… Let me start by pointing out that a) I never measured the height of the truck with the tire on the roof rack, and also b) the height wasn’t noted anywhere obvious as I pulled in. Yep. I entered the parking garage, and as I turned around the bend to the next level up…I scraped the roof rack, tire and all, right off the top of the truck. 😦 Well, shit. Fuck.

…Not my best moment, not my best day…

…It could have been ever so much worse, and both the truck and I are entirely fine. The roof rack? Not so much.

My Traveling Partner got to his appointment. We managed to also get safely home, mostly in pretty good spirits. I went on with the day, dropping pill containers (shit!), knocking over books, bottles, objects… it’s just been that sort of day. Also… it’s been hot. Like seriously fucking hot, and I am grateful that the day was such that I got to spend most of it indoors, in A/C. Like I said, could have been so much worse.

Yeah. Fucking rough. Some days are. My pain is pretty well managed. Things have calmed down. It’s evening. The house is comfortable, and quiet. I’m fine, for most values of fine… and it’s enough. Tomorrow? Yeah, of course, obviously – I’ll begin again. (Again.)

I woke from a restless interrupted sleep, head aching. I slept on something wrong, and I woke with mild vertigo, which is taking its sweet damned time passing. I woke with my guts in a knot, and drenched in a sticky sweat. I drag myself through something like a morning routine, eager to get to the part where I’ve made coffee, and get to drink it. It doesn’t really help (or hasn’t yet), but it feels comforting and familiar.

I got through the noisy bit of the night by sleeping with noise-canceling headphones on for a while. I woke, again, some hours later and the noisy bathroom fan in an adjacent room had finally been silenced. I thought I’d return to a better, deeper sleep, but instead the remainder of my sleep was filled with restless worried dreams that I no longer remember.

…This cup of coffee is pretty good…

I look around the room and sigh. I have to pack, and it’s time to go home. I’m less than eager to do the packing part, but I’m definitely ready to return home. I miss my Traveling Partner, and I am eager to be in his arms and in his good company again, although we really weren’t ever entirely out of touch. That’s a level of cruelty I don’t aspire to, even when I most need time alone. It’s nice that my partner misses me when I am away, and likes to stay in touch. I feel loved.

I gaze out the open balcony door into the peculiar gray sky. It’s almost sunrise, but it’s another one that I won’t actually see, obscured by dense clouds. I think about getting a walk in, but this morning I just want to drink my coffee, write, watch the sky, pack, and return home. (I’ll probably still get a walk in, after this first cup of coffee…) I think about how pleasant a shower will feel, and wonder whether to do that before or after I pack? Like other thoughts, this one surfaces, I consider it without really engaging with it more directly, and let it pass by like one of the gulls beyond the balcony gliding over the emptied bay. I spend a moment contemplating the bay’s changing views, mud flats at low tide, filled by the incoming tide and looking very much like a proper bay once the tide has filled it again. I could watch this view for days – and do, every time I come here. How many times now? A dozen? More? A reliably satisfying getaway, whether I go to rest and read, or to paint, or to walk the beach and take pictures.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I’ve enjoyed this quiet self-care time. I feel rested and ready to resume caregiving… and a good thing, too! It’s already time to begin again.