I go to bed every night between 12 a.m. and 2:00 a.m., mostly due to a fairly consistent schedule of working until 11:00 p.m. I am up first at around 5 a.m. when my mother's alarm goes off. I am up (fully conscious and out of bed) by 7. Then I get my darling daughter up and go about my day.
So this leaves me a good 5-7 hours of sleep, right? Which would be perfect. Except the combination of medication I take requires at least 8 hours of solid sleep for me to function properly. Many a morning, I find myself somewhat short on sleep.
I may seem cognitively impaired during the day because in essence, I cannot...brain. I may seem flighty or bubble-headed but I assure you this is not the case. I'm still me. Even though I sometimes can't comprehend or articulate properly.
I am supposed to limit myself to one cup of coffee during the day due to potential exacerbation of my anxiety disorder. One cup??? Ha ha. More like three. But who's counting? Ignore the fact that my heart is like that of a hummingbird at every doctor's appointment. I get so hopped up on coffee that rest during the day is a struggle even though I often don't work until after noon.
Naps. Ahhhh...when I can take them, naps are awesome. But since it often takes me an hour or more to fall asleep it is not always possible to temporarily escape the pressures of reality. Also, I often get heckled from upstairs: "Why are you taking a nap? Are we boring?" Ah, my dear mother and grandmother, you are anything but boring.
I'm just tired.
When I manage to sleep, perchance to dream, I am moving around the country with my ex-husband. We are stationed in all kinds of strange places. There is one house in particular that has a swamp, and an extremely tiny upstairs that you have to crouch in.
In the latest installment of this dream we were moving to Afghanistan with the rest of my family. At a house we stopped at along the way, there was a makeshift ladder to get to the second floor. Essentially getting upstairs was like climbing a rock wall. The second floor held a bathroom with a massive expanse of white tile. In front of this there was a tall step leading to another, blue, tiled area, featuring a shower head and about 50 mannequins. You could take a shower, but every time you turned your back to the mannequins they would advance toward you. This was as unsettling as it sounds. I have no idea what the motive of the naked mannequins was. But I strongly suspect that they were gonna get me.
The precursor to this strange dream? Discussion of military deployments with some gals from work. The mannequins are also work-related, as we have them along the corners in my department. I am sometimes so tired that out of the corner of my eye I mistake them for customers. I always stop myself before asking the mannequin how it is doing and if it is finding everything ok. So I suppose, in a sense, I am doing alright.
Anyway, I'm babbling, as I tend to do when I am tired. My mom and daughter woke me up several times last night. I am bordering on delirious, and was threatening to take a nap on the floor at work. An idle threat, of course, as evidenced by my swollen feet. But I digress.
Caught a third or fourth wind and am desperately trying to unwind. The cat's in her bad and all's right with the world. Care charmer sleep, son of the sable Night, brother to death, in silent darkness born, defeat the wretched spell of caffeine and come on, sugar. Let me dwell a little bit in twilight. Not the kind with Sparkly Vampires though.
Wow how's that for a poetry-YA mashup? Crap, I tell you. Crap, crap, crap. I write much better when I'm not a blithering idiot. So, without further ado, I bid thee goodnight.