Archives for posts with tag: sleepless nights
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So Tired, So Much to Do

January 23, 2016 //
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I am enjoying another quiet morning, and the joy of spending more precious time with my traveling partner. We both sleep much more easily, more deeply, and generally better when we sleep alone, each for our own reasons. I have, over days, been getting less sleep than I need, and averaging only about 5 hours a night, and rarely more than 2 or three uninterrupted hours. My typing and spelling are affected; I can see that as I write. My emotional balance is taking the hit this morning, although it has not yet expressed itself in any noteworthy way. I feel it.

I'd rather be sleeping...

I’d rather be sleeping…

I’m so tired. I’ve got days of fairly intensive manual labor ahead of me for the move, and more critically still; i have days ahead requiring my planning, cognitive, and judgement making skills be at their best. I can’t really afford, logistically, to spend the weekend recreationally in its entirety, there is simply too much to be done. The more of it I can do myself, the less expensive the move is. The less expensive the move is, the more available funds I have to ensure the bedroom in the new place set aside for my traveling partner when he stays with me can be furnished nicely straight away.

I’m tired. Very tired. I have ‘that headache’ – it’s the TBI headache most common when I am deeply fatigued. I have to think through the headache. I have to work through the fatigue. I have to communicate through the cognitive challenges cropping up as I get more sleep deprived. Maintaining my emotional balance and self-sufficiency, and also managing to remain quite flexible to the constant changes of plans around me is becoming seriously difficult. In part, these challenges are inflicted by the lack of consideration or willingness to plan of a person not only not here in this lovely quiet place, but also not even actually part of my life. My traveling partner’s plans get messed with by his Other, and the ripple effect hits me. At this point I am sufficiently fatigued to be less civilized about that fairly irritating reality, and in an effort to address everything I could, I dragged my unable-to-sleep self out of bed far earlier than a Saturday demands and spent an hour meditating, before the anticipated time my traveling partner’s alarm would be due to go off. I personally find that while it is wholly understandable to be feeling uncivilized, I am not comfortable with behaving thusly; meditation helps tremendously, and I get my perspective back.

Sometime later, I check the clock. The sky is beginning to lighten up quite a bit. It’s not so early now – and definitely after the time I expected my partner up and about, preparing to be on his way. No alarm. FUCK – this hits one my oldest childhood triggers hard. Memories of my hungover alcoholic father passed out as his alarm rings, Mom unresponsive beside him, and my childish dread that something terrible will go wrong if Daddy doesn’t go to work, and reminders to “Be a good girl, Baby, if Daddy doesn’t wake up, you make sure I do.” Panic. Anxiety. But… My traveling partner is not my father. He’s a free will adult with an alarm clock of his own. I dither. I’m too tired to think clearly. What to do? Anything? Will he be annoyed if he oversleeps? Did I not understand his plans? Shit. I gently wake him and just let him know his alarm did not go off. He confirms he changed his mind about his plans. I mumble something I hope is reassuring and exit the bedroom, hoping he can at least get easily back to sleep and catch up on his own deficit; he wasn’t having an easy time of sleeping next to me last night, just as the night prior I struggled to sleep next to him.

I closed the door quietly behind me. Now what? I haven’t had as much uninterrupted leisure of late for writing, and sit down with my thoughts in my mind, and let the morning unfold. I have no idea what the day holds. Don’t know what my traveling partner will do. Don’t know whether I will also have to change my plans, and don’t even know whether I am frustrated, annoyed or disturbed by any of it… I’m just so tired… and there is so much to do. I may just wrap myself up in a cuddly bathrobe and crash out on the rug, and let fatigue-stress tears slide quietly down my cheeks until I manage to sleep…

A helpful reminder; I apply it equally to how I speak to myself these days.

A helpful reminder; I apply it equally to how I speak to myself these days.

Or… I could make coffee. It’s Saturday. There’s no rush; that’s harder to remember when I am so tired. Most of the timeline planning, and basic strategy around how my move is organized so far was planned before I went short of sleep. I can trust my skillful rested self to take care of my less skillful fatigued self – we’re good at this now! I check my earlier notes; Saturday is identified for reservation making, changing over services, doing basic housekeeping – and getting the rest I need for the week to come; I don’t start moving until Tuesday.

Some solutions are practical.

Some solutions are practical.

I could do without the headache. I decide to put self-care first today, and take the day as it comes. I start water for coffee, and push the morning forward a bit at a time. It will require kindness with myself, and regular reminders that I have reached certain limits that can’t be ignored without putting me at risk of having some unpleasant emotional experience. It’s been a while since I have been at such risk on this level. Life’s curriculum includes pop quizzes. Sometimes things we want, or enjoy, come with ‘strings attached’ – other things that must be managed, mastered, or endured. Before anything else, I remind myself that the beloved human being in the other room is also tired, and being twisted into unexpected disorder by yet another being with her own challenges and agenda. I remind myself that my traveling partner is – beyond any of that – someone I love greatly, and who means me no ill will whatever. It’s a lovely morning, so far. I think I’ve got this. 🙂

 

 

 

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Categories Anxiety, Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Logic & Reason, Love, Mindfulness, more than a little bit of bitching, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, The Big 5, Words

Awake at 3 am

October 23, 2015 //
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It’s been awhile since I was awake in the wee hours. I woke in tears with no recollection why I might be crying. I got a drink of water and ‘checked for monsters’ (walked through the small apartment quietly drinking my glass of water and assuring myself all is well). I went back to bed. That was more than an hour ago. I wasn’t going back to sleep, and the tears just kept sliding across my face. So.

It’s been a long while since I was awake in the wee hours. It wasn’t so long ago that it was a frequent thing, destroying my rest, throwing me off-balance, and fatiguing me well beyond any healthy sustainable point. I’m glad it isn’t every night any more. I’m appreciative that it isn’t even every week; it’s become quite rare… But I’m awake now. Tonight I am not sleeping through the night.

The wakefulness itself causes me no great stress. The feelings of insecurity and doubt, on the other hand, drive anxiety. On top of existing work stress, and common enough life stress,  I add stress in a valued, critically important (to me) relationship that suddenly feels far less secure than I generally take it to be. I am unsurprised that I am awake, or that I am overcome by waves of emotion attached to the thoughts about my experience: sad, insecure, doubtful, angry, hurt, frustrated, disappointed… did I mention sad? I did not get out of bed at 3 am to ‘enjoy’ the experience more intensely; I got up to reduce the intensity. I was not finding much success with distracting myself and getting back to dream land lying there in bed. My thoughts kept carrying me back to sad.

There is no miracle pill for sad wakefulness, or the tears that won’t quit at 3 am. There are a great many practices that ease my suffering, though. I get up and do some yoga; the focus on my physical body, and easing physical stress feels good. I drink a glass of water; crying makes me thirsty. I meditate, nothing fancy, no soundtrack, no light – just sitting in the stillness, in the darkness, focused on my breath, no timer – just time. I write. With just a few words in the night, I pause the flood of emotion to look at things from a more abstract observational perspective, giving myself a little distance from the hurting, and a chance to ‘edit the language’ as I see it in text on page instead of lit up boldly in the chemistry of my brain. It actually does make a difference [for me] to take the time to remove or change the adjectives and adverbs, correct the syntax, re-evaluate the thinking. So much easier to do that seeing it in written words [for me]. I read my experience from the edited perspective. I read it again. I am no longer crying.

Tomorrow is a work day. I haven’t set myself up for success there by being awake during the night – but being awake during the night and crying generally has an even less desirable outcome, emotionally. I feel valued to take the time with myself to ease the suffering I am experiencing, however much I can. I am definitely having my own experience. There is no lover here to hold me in the darkness and tell me everything will be okay – and maybe it won’t be. It generally will be, though, for at least some values of ‘okay’.

Small stressors keep piling up. The loss of aesthetic beauty of my wee home. The loss of day-to-day quiet here. The increasing tension and discontent in the workplace. The increasing insecurity and doubt in an important relationship. The lack of personal skill at coping with it when solitude becomes loneliness. The loss of intimacy and physical contact in my every day life. The chaos brought to my life through the exterior work being done in the community – it’s actually stressing me out to see paintings stacked differently for the convenience of contractors, or to see the A/C just sort of …sitting, no good place to store it, and such a small apartment. Lingering bitterness – not over old hurts themselves, but over the lack of being understood, the lack of consideration – or even awareness. I guess this is when I get to put new emotional resilience to the test, and find out whether all of the time and practice invested in emotional self-sufficiency will be enough to survive on. I’d like to thrive. It’s on my list of nice things to do for me. Maybe another time.

I feel very alone right now. Oddly, I notice the ticking clock – and realize there is no additional stress to being aware of the sound of it. I find some comfort in that. It’s a small thing, but it is meaningful that the ticking of the clock does not cause me stress, or anxiety. You know… sitting here in the darkness, at 3:34 am, that’s enough. It’s at least something – it’s incremental change over time. I think I’ll go back to bed.

It will be dawn soon enough. I will begin again.

It will be dawn soon enough. I will begin again.

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Categories Anxiety, Brain Injury, grief, Mindfulness, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, The Art of Being, The Big 5, Words

Hello Living!

August 15, 2015 //
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I overlooked the time, yesterday afternoon, and had a cup of coffee some time around 3:00 pm. Particularly foolish, since it wasn’t even good coffee; I was at the office. I enjoyed an excellent evening in the company of the wanderer, listening to tales of his most recent adventures, and finished the night with a long phone call with my traveling partner, and feeling rather like a giddy teenager looking forward to our date tonight. I didn’t fall asleep until well past midnight.

This morning I woke, out of habit, sometime around 4:00 am, dizzy, groggy, and fumbling with the pillbox on my nightstand; it made sense to take my medication on time. I promptly went back to sleep and woke hours later to the playful alarm on my phone jingling away cheerily, reminding me to take care of my hormone replacement – in case I had forgotten earlier in the morning. It’s my back-up alarm…set for a time of day that I will ‘most definitely always be awake by then’…this morning, I was not awake. I fought myself on getting up or returning to sleep; I could use more sleep. By the time I had renegotiated with myself and figured out sleep is the answer…I was awake. Fully awake…and up, grinding coffee, doing yoga…yep. I’m up.

"Forest pearls"

“Forest pearls” remind me it isn’t necessary to find enlightenment to enjoy the moment; I’ve no idea what this plant actually is, but it doesn’t stop me from being delighted by it.

It’s a lovely morning. I have a few things to do with the day, before the delights of an evening with my traveling partner commence. As I write, “something I need” nags at me…only I can’t recall what it is, just seconds after thinking of it. I’m frustrated by the experience, and somewhat immobilized; my ‘old way’ of dealing with something like this would result in tearing the house apart trying to find whatever I’d lost, or scrolling through all my wish lists looking for the thing that had surfaced in my memory. It has a ‘oh right! You must not forget this…’ quality to it. I start down that path, but recognize it as a distraction, and not a useful one, and set the whole matter aside; the handy thing about things I ‘really need’ (to do, or to buy) is that needs don’t suddenly go away, and I will eventually recall it quite easily. If it’s not actually something I need, it won’t matter at all that I’ve forgotten it. The frustration, and sense of being stalled, dissipates quickly.

My coffee is tasty, and I am enjoying the beans from the roaster I am now buying from. I recognize I’m almost out of coffee with some puzzlement…didn’t I just order coffee…recently? I check my email for the receipt. Yep. I ordered coffee a week ago…it hasn’t arrived? That’s odd…I grin at myself alone, and having one of those ‘perspective of aging’ moments; I can easily remember when a letter mailed to a far away friend might take more than a week to arrive at its destination, and sending away for something in the mail used to come with a written disclaimer ‘expect delivery in 6 to 8 weeks’. Now it seems reasonable to be frustrated when a package doesn’t arrive within a week, and I generally expect that a bill dropped in the mail will clear my bank account reliably in 2 days if it’s local. So much of the day-to-day communication in life is very near real-time, now. It’s quite different than* I recall from…say…the 70s. Holy crap, I’m ‘old’. LMAO!! 😀 (…and not because I’m 52, but because I so regularly make this particular ‘then’ and ‘now’ comparison, ‘these days’; very difficult to do from the vantage point of one’s youth.)

The path isn't always obvious.

The path isn’t always obvious. The lesson is not always spelled out. Perspective has value.

It’s an easy morning. I’m a huge fan of easy, and I like to appreciate it any time I can. If that includes sleeping in, sipping coffee, and taking my time figuring out my day while cool morning air fills the apartment with the scent of roses and the sound of birdsong – well sign me up and call it Saturday. 🙂

Today is a good day to live beautifully and practice The Art of Being. Today is a good day for kindness, for listening, and for enjoying the journey. Today is a good day to be reminded that agita over elections that are more than a year away is a foolish waste of precious limited life time, and that what is here, now, has infinitely more value in my experience than the fears of what may be, or the anger over what has been. In fact…today is a good day to change the world.

Use your words.

Use your words. Use them wisely.

*Note for the grammar fans: I didn’t allow spell check to change ‘different than’ to ‘different from’ because what I actually say in real life is indeed ‘different than’. It does not disturb me in this instance that the grammar is ‘wrong’. I regret any stress this may cause you.

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Categories Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Love, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Perspective, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, Summer, The Art of Being, The Big 5, War and News of War, Words

Sleeping and Dreaming

April 3, 2015 //
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Sleeping and dreaming are two of my favorite things. Seems a bit odd considering the challenges with insomnia, sleep disturbances, and nightmares, perhaps it is because of those things that I enjoy sleeping and dreaming so much. I enjoy and appreciate them greatly, and definitely have experience with some of the less pleasant, less restful, and less satisfying options sleep has to offer.

I did not sleep well last night. I don’t recall my dreams. I had no nightmares, and did not spend the time restlessly – I just mostly wasn’t sleeping. I managed more than 4 hours of sleep, though, and one period of unbroken sleep that lasted nearly 3 hours. Not too long ago, a night like last night would have been spent out of bed, awake, perhaps writing moodily whatever stray thought crossed my mind in the twilight of minimal artificial light. I would have, potentially, become more cross and frustrated – and anxious – as the night passed. I was sleepy and tired last night, just not able to fall asleep, or stay asleep, so I stayed in bed, relaxed and comfortable, meditating through periods of wakefulness until I felt sleep begin to return. I am decently well-rested, though not ideally so, and I am in a mostly pretty pleasant mood, although I am in a lot of pain with my arthritis.

There is a connection between quality of sleep, and my experience of pain. Pain seems more than usually painful when I am not well-rested.

I yawn, and stretch, do some yoga – slowly and with great deliberation. I am stiff, and seemingly unreasonably so, but I’m not really surprised by it, just annoyed. I accept the feeling of annoyance as a warning that I may not have the emotional resilience I expect to, today; the moment of kindness turned inward eases the annoyance, but not the pain. My medication will kick in slowly, over the next hour; I count on the yoga for as much relief, and it generally delivers.

Sipping coffee, dreaming of love, and thinking of home.

Sipping coffee, dreaming of love, and thinking of home.

It is a quiet Friday morning. I enjoy quiet mornings greatly. This one I spend gently, considerate of my needs and my lack of sleep. I take time to contemplate the sensation of ‘going home’ – and getting there – and what I might enjoy seeing and experiencing as I step into a space that feels like ‘home’ for me. For the purpose of this moment of contemplation (daydreaming?) I accept the assumption that my emotional experience of ‘feeling homeless’ is not driven by externals, that it is simply a stray sensation I am stuck on that can be changed by moving in the direction of things that feel differently for me, with practice. This opens the door to considering what does feel like ‘home’ to me? (My traveling partner is correct that my linguistic and grammatical tendency to phrase thoughts ‘in the negative’ supports negative thinking and experiences more effectively than it can support positive ones; I work on changing my implicit biases with a number of practices like this one.) Beginning with the assumption that I can improve on this experience, I allow myself to ‘think through’ a variety of ‘arriving at home’ moments, letting my imagination fill in gaps and create little details that catch my attention and point my awareness in the direction of what sorts of things really do feel like home – for me. I have changed over the years, and my taste has as well.

This morning, I ‘come home’ in my imagination to a very orderly place that feels spacious, but is quite compact. The space is ‘filled with light’; windows that bring in the natural light of morning, or afternoon is especially lovely. The decor is organized around function, and in favor of being able to create in the same space in which I live; finished art on the walls, beautifully arranged with adequate white space, easel and brushes neatly ready on a whim, and unashamedly out in the open. The art would be selected to take advantage of the light, and also ‘where I’m at’ in life now; lighter, brighter, more glow, less darkness, sensuous textures, positive meanings. Decor in neutral earth tones in light shades and pale wood case goods would direct my eye back to the color; art, objects, beautiful porcelain tea cups, books – always so many books! In a place that feels to me like ‘home’, all my lovely breakables would be on display – and in use. I would live gently in a ‘cruelty free zone’, treating myself with compassion, kindness, and care (I have been too hard on myself for far too long). The environment would feel quiet, and stillness would be available – even plentiful – and would be ‘inspiring’ to live in. The dining table would be set, beautifully, simply for the loveliness of it, in between meals. The kitchen and pantry would be arranged to suit my needs and cooking style, and would take into account my injury and my arthritis – putting things I commonly need in easiest reach, and maintaining a ‘logical sense’ that perhaps only makes sense to me, but does so in an intuitive way, changing only to improve on that. This is unmistakably a ‘selfish’ perspective; there is no reason to hold out on myself in my own daydream, and the point of the exercise has nothing whatever to do with how I treat others, or building a lovely home in a shared experience. This one is for me, about me… it is me, communicating my needs to myself with greater clarity than I otherwise might, and hoping to improve on my day-to-day experience along the way, just benefiting from knowing myself and my needs a little better.

More often than not, when I feel ‘home sick’ or yearning to ‘go home’, it is desire for a safe place that feels like my own, filled with order, stillness, sufficiency, and contentment…the other details are simply a way to get there.

...And a wee garden would be lovely, too.

…And a wee garden would be lovely, too.

Today is a good morning to consider going home. Today is a good day to consider what that means to me. Today is a good day to be my own best friend, compassionately listening, offering encouragement and support, and celebrating growth. Today is a good day to enjoy change.

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Categories art and the artist, Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Mindfulness, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Sleepless Nights, The Big 5, women

Dominoes and Endless Vistas

January 23, 2015 //
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Sometimes growth and progress feel a bit like a fancy pattern of dominoes lined up carefully in a row, standing, waiting…for one small push, and having received it, they topple one into the next, as necessary as breathing, to a conclusion that sometimes both surprises, and also seems rather obvious.

Yesterday was a good day. It was not without emotion, but emotions were not overwhelming or disabling me. Work was work. Home was home. I was feeling a tad on the practical and ‘no  nonsense’ side by the time I got home. Still, it was a pleasant evening of hanging out. Uneventful. Calm.

I felt inspired off and on, and excited to explore new thinking on old pain…and took notes all day. Looking those notes over this morning, there is an evident thread of hurt and frustration woven through the narrative of the day that only shows up in the brief, sometimes terse, observations that although significant seeming, were a distraction from the workload facing me. I look back on them and wonder how much of it is truly relevant; damn little of it is at all inspiring now. I am at a place in life where it would certainly be a goodness to give up day-to-day employment to focus on my own needs and agenda…but our society isn’t really set up that way, and the financial obligations of adulthood find me continuing to maintain employment.

I’m committed to slowing things down a bit, and taking care of me. The timing is right for planning the upcoming hiking/camping for the year, and I enjoy the planning and anticipation, itself. I’m eager to be out among the trees, in the stillness, just being. Quiet and content, and able to hear my own thoughts for more than 5 minutes at a time…trees rustling in breezes…small creatures approaching with cautious curiosity…home. This week I think I made a small breakthrough with regard to emotional self-sufficiency, love, lust, and sexual needs. Explaining it well would require words I have not yet mastered, but I feel more connected within myself, which has apparently been holding me back of late. There’s some other stuff, important on the inside… perspective… identity… self… other… (and much, much more!)

I didn’t sleep well last night. Meditation sort of… consumed a bunch of time unexpectedly. Then there were some lovely minutes of cuddling. Then… I was awake. Awhile. A long while. No fussing or anxiety to it, I just wasn’t sleeping. I went back to meditating at a number of points, which I have been finding definitely keeps the anxiety at bay. I feel okay this morning. I know I’ll be tired tonight. Managing good self-care throughout the day will be critical, and I make a point of taking note of that need for attentive self-care, and set a small number of extra reminders for today; later on I may not be my sharpest.

Here it is another day. Will I learn something new? Will I make good choices and treat others well? Will love find me in some unexpected moment? Will sorrow? I hear the espresso machine in the background and I think of love… and coffee. Today is a good day to make good choices. Today is a good day to take the time to take care of me. Today is a good day to slow down for a moment, and really just savor it. Today is a good day to change my experience.

Taking the journey with my eyes open, and walking a mindful path... what will I see?

Taking the journey with my eyes open, and walking a mindful path… what will I see?

 

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Categories Anxiety, Brain Injury, Healthy Living, Love, Menopause, Metaphors, Mindfulness, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, The Big 5, Turning 50
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