Yesterday was a lovely sunny day. Busy calendar. Pretty routine. Tasks. Meetings. Tedium. An assortment of things that were less than ideal interspersed with things that seemed useful or needful. An email from a friend asking about coffee.
…Coffee…
The coffee machine in the soon-to-be-closed co-work space here in this small town has stopped working. I stop by a coffee place on my way in and get a cup of black coffee. Hot. I sit here sipping it and looking out the windows into the strangely stormy sky, thinking thoughts about the changeable nature of weather, and whether or not I am content with the work I currently do. I guess the tl;dr is “probably not” – or why would the question even come up in the first place?
I sip my coffee and wonder how, at 60, I still “don’t know what I want to be when I grow up”? How is that even a thing? LOL
Today is a whole new day. I can make new choices. There’s a pretty big world beyond this space, and the options are plentiful. If I knew what I wanted to do – what would I be doing? It’s a good question to ask on a Friday.
…Shit… did either of us think to take the trash cans to the curb last night? It’s trash pick-up, today. I definitely forgot. LOL Another good question. I ping my Traveling Partner and begin again.
Morning. A Thursday. Busy day, based on my calendar details. Hot coffee, black. Peach and orange sunrise streaked with messy clouds. I am groggy.
I woke to lights coming on, right on time. This has been my “alarm clock” for so long now, I actually do think of it as “my alarm”. I hauled myself upright, reluctantly. My sleep is improved now that I’m using a CPAP machine, I’ll go ahead and say that first. So… snoring? Get to a sleep doctor and take care of yourself. That snoring is a bigger deal than just keeping other people awake. 😉 The machine prevents me snoring, but according to my sleep tracker, it’s not doing much good for my quality of sleep, which is still restless, and lacks sufficient deep sleep. I’m getting more sleep – which is a start – but I’m probably still just getting used to sleeping in the mask, and also dealing with the noise of the machine (quiet but distinctive) and the sound of my breathing (different). My dreams are vivid, plentiful, and quickly forgotten. I’m definitely actually sleeping, but not sinking into that cherished deep sleep, and today I’m really feeling that.
…So groggy…
I showered, kissed my Traveling Partner good-morning-and-see-you-later and headed to work.
I’m sipping my coffee, grateful for this hot cup of “we’ll get past this moment and on to the next” that warms my hands and lifts my mood. An early morning walk around the block (required to obtain said coffee) was pleasant, and I enjoyed the sunrise. I’m thinking about life and things I’m happy turned out “badly”… only months ago, I was hoping to get onto Ozembic… already the news that has since surfaced has me feeling quite grateful I didn’t. One major notable significant “don’t miss this detail” truth of our human experience is that there is no “magic pill” or perfect outcome. The shortcuts are rarely actually shortcuts, and often come at an unreasonably high cost. No “happily ever after” – it’s work and effort and results that vary.
I sip my coffee thinking about incremental change over time. So… okay. This mask may not be the ideal CPAP mask for me. Could be. Maybe I could adjust it differently and be more comfortable? Maybe I need to be patient about getting used to it? Maybe some progress and improvement is enough? Hell, this isn’t even my machine… it’s a rental-on-loan while the paperwork and process of getting my own continues to unfold (apparently my apnea is bad enough that no one wanted me to go another night without a machine, due to some actual risk to my health & safety without it, potentially).
So here I am. Another day. Another moment. Another change. Another experience. One foot in front of the other, doing my best day-to-day and hoping that changes in behavior, thinking, and circumstances will add up to improvements over time that I can really enjoy and thrive on. In the meantime, enough has to be enough, and it’s okay to embrace “successful failures” every bit as much as it is to celebrate the joyful moments of delight and success that are more obvious.
…I am already missing my Traveling Partner this morning. Our evening last night was an interesting departure from our usual. Shortly after dinner, completely unexpectedly, we ended up sharing some time with his son (who lives far away, but is visiting later this month). Technology is amazing. Hanging out and talking as a family as if we were all in the same room. “Fun” doesn’t quite describe it; it was “real”, and authentic, and funny at times, and serious other times. At a later point another person joined the conversation (a stranger to me), and the vibe wasn’t the same. Not family. Too much drama. I quickly got bored, and called it a night in favor of quiet time and reading a book. From there my night was the restless unsettled experience I described earlier. I’m not feeling critical or discontented about it; it was an interesting evening of good conversation, generally. I’m okay with that. As for the sleep thing? Well, shit, there’s always been “a sleep thing” for me. Nothing to see there.
…So groggy…
…I’m glad coffee exists…
Right now I’m feeling moody and vexed by existence. Irked by humankind. “Over it” – without knowing what “it” even means to be. I know it’ll pass, at some point.
I am sipping the last of my first cup of coffee this morning. The paper cup is still warm, though the coffee is almost gone. It’s a cool summer morning at the leading edge of a new work week and the start of the day. I pause along the path I am walking to sit a moment, breath the morning air and listen to the birds and the sound of distant traffic and construction.
A pleasant walk, a pleasant morning.
I finished at the sleep lab this morning at 06:00… Rather late compared to my usual wakeup time around 04:30 or 05:00. Weird experience. 10 out of 10 for “interesting”. Hard to say “how I slept”, although the sleep technician asked, as did the questionnaire I filled out after waking up. I did sleep. I am rested. My sleep was about typical for a “good night” for me. A bit restless, and interrupted a couple times, but in this case the restlessness had a lot to do with being wired up every which way, making it tough to be entirely comfortable.
My Traveling Partner isn’t wrong though; I’ve got apnea bad enough that it was easily detected in the first couple hours of the night, causing the technician to come in and wake me long enough to go ahead and put me on a CPAP machine for the rest of the night. Sleeping with that addition further complicated my ability to be comfortable, partly because I was all wired up still, and partly because it was something more to get used to, and in a strange place on top of that.
… I still managed to get enough sleep to be fully rested, and more hours than typical for me. A larger percentage of my time asleep, according to my sleep tracker on my wearable was spent on deep sleep. Win.
This is all very encouraging. It’s an unfortunately slow process though. I now have to wait for the physician to get back to me and schedule time to come in to get my prescription and machine. Did you know you can’t easily get a CPAP machine without a prescription? Lucrative bit of medical industry this sleep stuff, eh? Probably not a coincidence that the doctor here also owns the medical equipment supply business here in town.
… Pretty morning. I feel hopeful. A good time to begin again.
I slept poorly last night. Restless dreams, wakefulness, and frequently having to get up to pee, along with being in pain, made for a difficult night. My Traveling Partner woke up in a shitty mood, in pain, and cross with me as his default approach. Not my favorite way to start a day. I dressed and headed out as soon as I woke. “Later” will be soon enough to return home, hopefully some time after my partner has had his coffee, done some yoga and stretching, and taken whatever he can to manage his pain and allergies.
I’m sitting on a fence rail next to a marshy expanse of still water favored by all manner of water birds. There is seasonality to the view. I enjoy this quiet place, although on weekends it is often crowded with bird-watchers and camera nerds. It’s a nice place for perspective.
God damn, it would suck if this otherwise beautiful relationship were to fail over our inability to sleep in the same place. I think about that briefly. Tears well up, and I brush them away. We’re not there yet and there are still things to try. My sleep study got moved up from mid-August to… tomorrow. I’m not exactly excited, just hoping something helpful comes of it.
A woman and child walk past me. I hear the child ask “Mommy, why does that lady look sad?”, and the woman’s kind careful reply “Sometimes being a grown up is hard honey. It makes Mommy sad sometimes, too.” For real, Lady, you’re so right. Sorry, Kiddo, it’s not always easy.
I sit quietly awhile. No plan. Just stillness. I check the hours for the pharmacy near home in order to time my return such that I can pick something up for my Traveling Partner. I try to do enough sweet things, kind things, helpful things to offset the unpleasantness of our shared challenges. It’s not “enough”, but it is at least something. I find myself making a silent promise to refrain from talking about my own pain, and fatigue, and stress, and anxiety… Hoping to be more easily able to make room for my partner to feel heard, even if I can’t do much about it. Again, it’s not everything, it’s just something.
… I have to trust that after 13 years together he does understand that I am chronically struggling with pain, myself, and that he has the affection for me and the emotional intelligence to hold space for that awareness day-to-day, in spite of his own pain and fatigue. That’s hard sometimes. It can be a very “fuck your pain, what about mine?!” kind of world sometimes. I think I can do better… But how best to do better without being a dick to myself and undermining my own emotional wellness? It’s a puzzle.
… Sometimes being a grown up is hard, and it makes me sad…
I think about a dear friend tearing up a bit as we discussed age, aging, and the inevitable loneliness of feeling “cast aside”. Fucking hell, that is some real shit. Sometimes being grown up is hard. I watch a small flock of birds take flight, appearing to chase a larger bird. They don’t pay me any attention at all. I’m not part of their experience.
We’re each walking our own path. No map. Sometimes we get lucky on the journey and have some companionship along the way for some distance. It’s not a given that we will, and ultimately we’re in this alone, regardless how or whether we surround ourselves with people or creatures. These are individual journeys. Nonetheless, we’re also all in it together. It’s a puzzle. I remind myself to try to be kind. Always.
This morning has fail sauce drizzled generously all over it. At least I’ve got a decent cup of coffee for washing down that bitter pill. lol
My Traveling Partner woke me because my snoring was keeping him from sleeping. That’s just real. I’ve got an appointment to do a sleep study in a couple weeks, but let’s keep on with the real-real; my partner has been waiting on this to be sorted out for the whole of our time together. Rough. I woke abruptly, and I woke triggered by his frustrated tone. No blame there, no criticism. I 100% get why he’s frustrated and unhappy to experience degraded sleep. That shit is unhealthy! I’ve got sleep challenges of my own quite separate from the challenge that results from my Traveling Partner’s reaction to my snoring. I definitely understand the critical importance of good quality restful sleep. Hell, I averaged less than 3 hours a night of real sleep for an entire decade of my first marriage, and was almost a zombie version of myself as a result. Sleep fucking matters.
As contented and generally happy together as we are, this sort of crap “tests us” hard. It’s vexing and frustrating, and maddening (by which I mean to say that as our sleep quality deteriorates, so does our sanity). There were harsh words, and raised voices, and frankly at that beastly early hour none of that is helpful, necessary, nor provides any kind of useful change – it’s just ugly on top of unhealthy wrapped in miserable. It’s been a difficult morning, so far. It’ll likely be a difficult day.
Drenched in my own frustration (with being wakened from too-brief sound sleep), my reaction was to immediately dress and leave for work (at 4:00 a.m., for real??). It’s a day in the city, in the office, and hitting the road early means “no traffic” and just maybe a chance for my Traveling Partner to get some sleep. (I’d forgotten about the night-paving going on, just outside of town. I’m so damned glad I saw the signs, really saw them, because that flagger was just on the other side of a blind curve.) I’m still bleary-eyed and groggy, hours later, but I made it safely up the highway. There was no traffic, and paradoxically this slowed me down and made me much more patient with myself and the journey. No rushing. Driving the speed limit. Making a point to get gas before I got on the highway. Eyes on the road. It was an ideal commute in all respects – other than my drowsiness. I got into the city just in time for BigNameChainCoffee to open, so I at least have this coffee that I’m slurping on rather mindlessly. I’m just doing it for the caffeine and hoping for the best. It would not matter if it were the best or worst coffee I’d ever had; I barely notice that it is even coffee, at all.
…It’s a fucking work day…
I groan softly to myself. I’ll be alone in the office awhile longer (about 2 hours more, I think) before other people show up. I’m a bit light-headed and dizzy with the persistent drowsiness. Fuck I wish it were easier for my Traveling Partner to wake me or ask me to rollover without actually also triggering me. It’s just no good for either of us (it’s not his fault, it’s just a limitation we’re facing together). I bet it’s hard to “wake me gently”, because I often sleep so very lightly in the first place, and it’s not at all rare for that light sleep to be in a state of hypervigilance. CPTSD – the “gift” that lasts a lifetime. 😦
Sunlight begins to pour in through the office windows. The tearful drive up the road to the office wasn’t any fun, and I’m so tired… but…the sunshine seems vaguely promising of new beginnings and fresh starts. I haven’t heard from my Traveling Partner for a couple hours, so I’m hopeful that he was able to get to sleep and get some rest. Later I’ll call the sleep doctor and plead for any interim solution that will make better sleep possible for my partner under these trying circumstances. I’m at a point where offsetting the timing of our sleep seems like a reasonable solution – even though I’m not doing shift work these days. I mean, if I go straight to bed after work and sleep for 4-6 hours, then get up about when my partner goes to bed, we at least both have an opportunity to get enough sleep to function. This shit? My Traveling Partner isn’t wrong; it’s unhealthy, and not sustainable. Neither of us can do our best work as our sleep slowly degrades, and it’s taking a toll on our personalities and ability to interact with other people pleasantly (including each other). That shit this morning was just not okay. Understandable, but not ideal. Things have to change – for both of us.
…I’m so tired…
Today I’ll focus on the work in front of me and do my best to ensure I take all my medications on time, get to my handful of meetings, and also don’t forget to refresh the parking meter. I arrived in the city before the parking garage opened, before valet parking hours for this building, and so I parked on the street. So many little things to remember. (Call the sleep doctor!)(Get the video for the work project shot!)(Check on the Farmer’s Market)(Shit! Don’t forget the post-pandemic I9 re-verification for work!)(File PACT Act paperwork!)(Get take-out on the way home!) I’ll try to refrain from biting my nails and tearing at my cuticles. Today I am painfully aware that I am entirely made of human.
I look at my work calendar. I’m pleased to see that it is such a light day, generally. Quiet project work, very few meetings. I look over this bit of writing and count up the spelling errors identified by the spell-check feature. Huh. 42. Seriously? Yeah… fatigue gets the blame; my spelling is generally quite good (or at least used to be). I correct the errors, knowing I’ll for sure miss something. I nearly always do.
Well, shit. I guess it’s time to begin again? Unavoidable, in any case.
Evening Light 