self- “uuuhg noooooo”
voice- “I know right? shut it off!”
self- “mmmkay. F*ck I gotta get up… why? why do I have to get up?”
voice “you don’t. You don’t have to work today and you can’t go to the gym until later anyway”
self- “you know that’s not how this works….oh sooo slee- zzZZzzzZzzzz”
voice- “heh heh heh heh”
20 minutes later, my eyes snap open and I can still hear Voice and his (her?) smug chuckle in the dark of my sleepy subconscious. I roll out of bed and stagger down the stairs to make coffee and start my day.
I can’t decide whether to count this as a fail. I know how easy it is to talk myself out of getting up in the morning- it’s a habit/pattern I’ve struggled with off and on for my entire life. I’m a night-owl by nature, well, by circumstance too I guess. I suffered night terrors for most of my childhood, along with sleep walking and other bizarre behaviors (rocking for instance)- So I would fight sleep as long as I could, until my eyes burned and I couldn’t keep them open anymore, and I just zonked out. It usually made no difference, and come morning, I was exhausted and cranky and probably still spent most of the night rocking and foot thumping and battling the Big Bad in my mind.
Even as an adult, I have most of the same issues. I still thrash and do weird things in my sleep- they call it “restless leg syndrome” now; I call it “can’t kick the assholes while I’m awake”. I have to warn people if I ever need to share a room- “Oh, you should know… I do this…uh..thing, in my sleep…”
I still have awful awful dreams. Not quite like the ones I had when I was a kid- those were different, I never remembered anything then but the pants-shitting-fear, and the shaking and sweating and weeping after I woke up. These are different- these are vivid and in full color and sometimes even have music in them, and they’re sticky. Not literally of course, but sticky like my mind has been coated in something foul and staining and I can’t get rid of it for days. Skunk. Like skunk.
Sometimes I don’t have any to remember, and sometimes they come night after night and I have to start drinking before bed to try to knock them out. Just for a break. They are always in some way or other, directly to do with my life. They are always people I know, or figures that clearly represent people I know. Always places or varying combinations of places I know. And almost always to do with the End of The World. Apocalypse. Armageddon. Apparently my twisted psyche is fond of tornadoes, because about 1 in every 3 Apocmageddon scenarios involve tornadoes. A few catastrophic explosions, one all consuming wildfire… and the rest are either bizarre complicated scenarios involving different aspects of my life or just plain horrible events.
I know that sleep is important. I know that dreams are a way of dealing with the day to day occurrences, and sorting out feelings and ideas and internal struggles. But c’mon! The level of intensity is too much sometimes. Makes a girl want to quit sleep sometimes! Although, having experienced true insomnia, I’m pretty sure that’s worse. Been there, done that. Once as a teen, and again with PPD and a colicky new baby. Bonkers, hallucinating (I could see radio waves in the air!) and contemplating self harm to protect everyone else from my crazy.
So, yes, sleep is a must. It’s about balance and routine though. Get too much and a girl is groggy and dull. Not enough and we go with the crazy-crazy again. It would help though if the crazy-crazy weren’t talking to me in the dark telling me to shut off the alarm and go back to sleep!