Sleep Deprivation, Day 39

(Okay, it's not that exact many days. It's actually closer to two months.)

I'm seriously tired. I mean honest-to-goodness, fall-down, having-worries-about-driving kind of tired.

I have trouble staying asleep. I fall asleep most times fairly quickly. I go to be around the same time each night, and get up most days at the same time. I don't drink heavily caffeinated beverages, I don't eat spicy food, but I do eat regular nutritious meals... at least a few hours before bedtime. I have a "getting ready for bed" routine, including making sure I'm comfortable for bed. I sleep in a secure place with soft warm covers, next to a portable human heating blanket who is great to cuddle with.

And yet, in the middle of the night, I wake up.

Lately it's been worse. I caught a cold a fortnight ago (jeezus, was it only that long ago?) and have a lingering cough that only seems to affect me when I'm trying to sleep. During the day? No real problems. Sleeping? I wake up coughing my lungs out to the point of painfully scratching my throat from the force. When I was sick, Boyfriend woke me up to dose me with cough syrup. I was coughing in my sleep. Now at least I wake myself up so I can take care of it on my own, but the downside is I hardly get any sleep. Last night, for example, I woke up coughing, but had already taken a dose and a half of NyQuil, so to avoid sleeping right through my alarm, I tried drinking water. It worked for about a half an hour. Then I was back up again.

Oh, yeah. I take NyQuil, and still wake up coughing. Most recently it's NyQuil Cough, after NyQuil regular didn't fix things. It made a dent, but only a dent. Still waking up. Still coughing.

But even before trying to medicate myself with cough-suppressing sedatives and tranquilizers, I was waking up. Too cold. Too hot. Covers too wrinkled. Blankets too bunched. Crazy ass dreams. Moonlight too bright. Cat jumped onto the bed. Boyfriend rolled over. I rolled over. Sometimes no reason at all. Just... awake. I blink a few times, maybe check the clock (if I even WANT to know what time it effin' is), get myself comfortable... and drift off. Usually to wake back up again later. Anywhere between two and five times a night.

Obviously, this isn't a good thing. I've been doing the breathing exercises, the routines, the careful management of habits. Soon I'm going to try very slow yoga. It could be stress, it could be something in my brain. I don't know anymore. I don't know if I ever knew in the first place, but my mind's so fogged and scrambled I can barely tell which way is up anymore. I've mentioned this to a doctor, she gave me some advice... but told me that - should this continue - I may need to go with over-the-counter medication to help me get some downtime. The brain without sleep can handle things for a short time, but - like water - it doesn't take long for the deprivation to start causing damage.

Oddly enough, much like water, lack of sleep after a sustained period causes permanent damage... and death. While dehydration causes multiple organs to shut down, lack of sleep causes the brain to start to short out, like an overheating circuit board. Hallucinations, severe personality shifts - usually to a much darker, paranoid level - and nervous tics are signs of severe sleep deprivation. Pretty soon the brain starts to experience irreversible damage. After about a week or so of extended lack of sleep, the body shuts down, and the subject dies. I did a report on sleep deprivation in college and read up on all the horrible gory details of the experiments on rats, the violent reactions of self-mutilation and lack of ability to function. I read the story of the radio personality who went sleepless for a fundraiser, and by the end of the run, his mental state was permanently altered into a much darker form.

SO I know the dangers. I know the risks. I don't know the cause. I don't know the reason. But before too much longer, I think I'm going to have to choose a more drastic solution. This can't continue. I'm becoming a hazard to myself and others.

Sleep. It's a necessity, not an option.

Stressed Out

Everyone knows stress is bad for you. It causes tension, indigestion, high blood pressure, all sorts of maladies. It's even been blamed for heart disease and migraines. That said, I got a bit of a wakeup call as to how stressed I've been because it lowered my immune system... and I got sick.

I get sick less often than I used to. I had mono a couple years ago which was the equivalent of having a perpetual cold for about a year and a half. Fortunately I was an adult suffering from it, since when it hits adolescents it causes such a level of fatigue as to make normal daily activities impossible. (One poor friend of mine described it as "get up, walk down stairs to use bathroom, collapse on couch because upstairs was too hard.")

But these days I know I've run myself down, despite my attempts to live healthier. I don't eat as well as I ought, opting for easy instead of nutritious. The balance of my meals is off, high in carbs and sugar instead of vegetables and fruit. I haven't been hydrating myself properly and though I've been getting to the gym more often, it's neither regular or terribly long. But aside from all that, I stress out a lot about my job and my externship and all the eight million things that all need to be done. I have a house to keep up and animals to care for, a boyfriend to spend time with... all of which I like doing, but cannot be neglected. There is no day off from feeding the cat, for example. Laundry is a perpetual beast, dust is forever settling and floors constantly getting dirty. Paperwork needs filing, bills need paying, groceries purchasing and putting away. All this surrounding the day job and trying to have a moment to breathe in between... I start feeling guilty for taking time to myself to relax and unwind.

But, as a few good friends pointed out, play time reduces stress, which keeps me more functional. Therefore, playtime IS necessary as well. And as boyfriend keeps reminding me, I can't take care of everything else if I don't take care of myself. So now that I'm recovering from a somewhat enforced long weekend (and by "enforced" I mean "body said no to going to work"), I'm back to drinking water and breathing deeply and stretching and so on. As with everything else, it takes effort and will.

So if you see me doing something I shouldn't encourage - don't scold (that'll set off my Capricornian stubbornness) - me to do something else. I'll try not to be a snit about listening to you.

Freefall

Lately I've had a lot on my plate. And by a lot, I mean with serious legal repercussions if I'm not careful. I need to carefully negotiate between deadlines and paychecks, trying to make sure I pay people I need to and don't go over what I have. Now I have to also figure out how to juggle paperwork that was generated by a bank's continual mistakes and registering my new vehicle, in addition to continuing my education in veterinary assistant school and sorting out payments that were mistakenly ceased by the hospital.

There are days I don't feel like dealing with it. I'd rather relax than worry about it. But not doing anything about it doesn't make it go away. I feel lost, light, listless, somewhat airy in a strange worry/no worry state of mind. I'm in the middle of a freefall, not sure if I should pull the chute, or if it'll even open, not wanting to experience the jerk of it working or the panic of it not.

Useless, it is. It does not serve me in the least. I just haven't figured out how to escape it yet.

For Fun and Gaming

Recently I played a Werewolf game and found my character in a rather unenviable position of knowing a Big Bad Awful was coming and the leaders of the city in which she found herself were unwilling to look past protocol to hear her out. Since then a tirade has been burning in my brain and this was as good a forum to let it out as any. Without further ado, the tongue-lashing of Has-No-Name, Lupus Theurge Silent Strider.

"Hear me, o nobles, and leaders of tribes! Hear and hark! Your doom is closer than you know.

"Long have you heard the End Of Times proclaimed. Long have you seen the signs. Long have your advisors whispered that the Apocolypse comes. I bring a different message: it is here; it has opened its eyes and is yawning a wide open maw as I speak to you now. What you saw in the streets today was a mere beginning, a tiny drop in an ocean of terrible power. You squabble and bicker amongst yourselves like cubs, vying for dominance and lording your ranks like proud fools. You know the End comes... but you are blind that you cannot see it is already here.

"Long have I been an outlier of Garou life. Long have the nights been where I hunted in the deepest darkest places for the answers of when and where the Wyrm will strike. And answers I found, at the cost of the packs you hold so dear and homelands in which you feast and gorge. I have no home to call my own. I have no pack to whom I can turn. I am alone in a dark desert of suffering for YOUR benefit... and when I bring the answers to you, I am handled like a willful pup and ignored in favor of your politics and powermongering. One who does not know the answers I do - instead of opening her ears to warnings - allowed her pride to usurp me, and so the caern's heart had your metal and steel and vile stinking fluids poured into it. Another, who preferred to bully and batter as though he were my Alpha... he allowed the bonds to be broken unchecked and the Eldest let loose from beneath the earth.

"I am called a doomsayer and blamed for bringing news too late, 'and too many are already dead' *spit*... but I say to you, it is YOUR hubris and arrogance that shall bring the death of your precious city. I have done my part, and it was tossed aside as a fool who cannot see the worth in a pure seed tosses it away. I was told I go to my death, and none shall remember. What good your memory and songs if there be none left to sing and remember? What good your marks of honor and glory if they are worn like shrouds upon Dancers and Fomor? What good your heraldry and rank if they are but further reason to rape your kin and devour your children?

"I may be doomsayer, I may be impertinent bitch, but you WILL hear these words and know them as truth. YOU did not fight the Wyrm when it came until too many were dead. Where were you when it burst forth from the womb of the Mother? In your precious constructions of steel and concrete? Bowing and scraping to each other and posturing for position in your packs? Fools! Idiots! Throat me, then, if you have no better answer, and lose the answers with my spirit as my life's blood is spilled, but I name thee truthfully cowards and jackals who would rather have the adornments of names and silver than the earth upon which you tread. You have become prideful, and your pride has made you weak, blind, petty, 'civilized lords'... but you will be lords of cesspools and bane pits for your inaction. Protect your city now, for all it is worth, for the Eldest awakens, and you will not be able to stop him if he does."

Back to the Grind

After weeks of family gatherings and friends visiting, wrapping gifts and presenting presents, trying on new clothes and trying out new gadgets, now I get to finish up the rest of the holiday whirlwind and start picking up where I left off. The guest bed will need to be stripped and laundered again, the floors vacuumed, the remnants of the New Years' celebrations taken out with the rest of the recycling. Along with it are the piles of scrapped wrapping paper and empty boxes, some clothes and worn out objects headed for Goodwill replaced by newer and fresher things, and old calendars sticking out from underneath them all.

With the passing of the old year and the beginning of a new, it's more than a simple changeover into a numerical account of time. I have declared new goals for myself, resolutions I have not put into effect, such as going to the gym twice a week and building up my strength and endurance until I am able to swim ten laps in the pool easily. Along with that goal, I have declared I shall drink no more soda, have a job as a vet-assistant, be off my medication with the blessing of my doctor, therapist, and boyfriend, and other such things... by year's end. It is the beginning of a new decade, and I will soon be turning 30. It's time to really get my act together and stop dilly-dallying. My physical body has grown soft and weak with poor constitution, my career has stagnated, my savings dwindled, and my creative spark diminished. All of these must be rebuilt in order to fully achieve my potential and grow positively into success and happiness. It will take work, and diligence, and education. I have chapters to brush up on for my externship interview. I am learning Spanish in my car. I must make the time to do what I can to expand my knowledge and awareness, and I must use the time I have wisely to maximize the effect.

And so I throw out things that do not serve me, and work toward things that do. I have many hurdles to clear yet, old debts that need to be paid off and holes that need to be filled in. It will simply be effort, time, and willpower to stop putting it off and just do it.

It's another year, another day back at the office, past the insane holiday season and back into the swing of things. A routine is re-established, but *what* goes into the routine is different. Streamlined. Focused.

Everyday, I am moving forward toward my dreams.

Concerning Hobbits

It has occurred to me on many different occasions that Tolkien's universe had a lot to say about social dynamics and interaction. But nothing strikes me as strongly as his concept of the hobbit, a creature simple in both nature and desire, with a fondness for green growing things and warm hearths. This simplicity is shown in a light of innocence, a delicate naivety secure in its seclusion and quite self-sufficient in its own fairly ascetic needs.

That said, I find myself not only fond of them as a society, but with a certain amount of longing sadness that comes from having lived a life not too unlike that once upon a time.

It's no secret I grew up in a very rural environment. I'm often referred to as "the country girl" in my group of friends, even by myself, an admission to my history as a young sheltered child in a sleepy little cow town where everyone knew everybody. I once knew the entirety of my hometown's layout, able to navigate to almost anywhere without need for directions, simply by virtue of landmarks of people's stores, homes, and hangouts. The population was small enough to fit into the campus where I ended up going to college. And despite my years away from my hometown, and the yawning swaths of knowledge and experience previously hidden from me because I lived in such a sheltered environment, I miss certain aspects of it that simply cannot exist there for me any longer.

My hometown changed irrevocably during my formidable years. A rather severe and eerie series of murders, accidents, and suicides left sizable holes in my classrooms and classmates. It is terrible and unfortunate beyond words when a parent buries their child: I saw it happen not one, but three separate times, the last of which was one mother alone burying all four of her babies. The community I once knew as whole and supportive shattered and divided over a scandal concerning a local priest of the most populated church involved in the city's agendas. It went from being a place where I was unafraid to play unattended in my front yard to a place I feared driving to school. Predators moved into the innocent spaces of my life and - for as well-protected as my parents kept me - I could not avoid seeing the aftermath of their passing. When classmates faces made the local news (based out of a city an hour and a half away), I knew they would not be in school anymore, either by death or by jail. More than once councilors came to our school to try to mitigate the damage. They, like our parents, did the best they could.

And so, reading the description of the Shire after "Sharky's" management takeover, I can't help but feel a sympathetic pang of loss. Like the hobbits who followed his lead, member of my community became self-serving rats willing to stir up false allegations against others to give themselves any sort of benefit. Like Sharkey himself, many transplants into the community became controlling monsters who bled common citizens dry and demanded unreasonable expectations for the sake of greed. Empty wild places were paved over and torn down to be "civilized" for the sake of development, which led to ruin and run-down empty neighborhoods with vacant windows staring onto feral streets where gangs and drug-dealers lurked. Pristine cookie-cutter homes that covered the once-wild grasses became nests for criminals because of bloated growth and expansion without thought for anything other than money. The rolling green hills and aged oaks were rooted out and ripped up. The air went from clear enough to see Half Dome from a high enough bluff to so choked you couldn't see the next hill. Light pollution veiled the stars. There was talk of paving over the creek, the last untouchably wild space left in the heart of the city... which, for being the only place left untamed, still needed regular purging to rid itself of grocery carts, old tires, and other trash.

I share a kinship with hobbits, with a fondness for green growing things, peace, quiet, and simple pleasures. I, too, enjoy good home-cooked food and good company, with a secure and simple - if quaint - lifestyle. I do not need the biggest new car or the fanciest dress, the fastest computer, the most expansive house or most expensive gadgets. I would prefer flowers to a new cell phone, warm socks to a slinky dress, my practical hybrid to a foreign sports car, and my friends to famous people. I want enough, but not so much that it becomes a lofty prize.

So perhaps it is not so strange that I like them more than the magical ever-living elves, or the valiant and heroic men, or the crafty and indomitable dwarves. Certainly I like them all, and all their parts of the Tolkien universe, and perhaps they are more exciting to read about. But were I to pick one to be, one to live with, it would be a simple choice, in more ways than one.

Let The Plagues Begin

I thought I could get away without getting sick this year. Unfortunately, despite my attempts at getting enough sleep, taking adequate vitamins, and overall promoting healthy and hygienic living, I got sick anyway. Bah. Humbug.

There are many reasons I hate being sick. Oh, I could go on and on. But the worst things are really quite distinct. First and foremost, I always seem to miss out on the coolest things. There was one year I missed out on a crab-and-lobster feast put on by a team of people who had volunteered to be our personal servants for the night, doling out foot massages and waiting on us hand and foot. Wine flowed, laughter echoed... and I was at home in bed with a fever of 103. Or how about the example of my own 16th birthday, where I was stuck with the flu? Even my own 25th birthday, I threw myself a party... and was coming down with something terrible before the night even ended. I got through bowling, but the hot-tubbing afterwards became a real downer because even in the warmest tub, my skin felt achy and I shivered non-stop.

Possibly coming in second-to-worst would be the various discomforts. My least favorite among which are the fire in the back of the throat and hot-lungs sensation, followed by how frigging hypersensitive everything gets. Even my own clothes feel chafing against my skin when I'm sick enough. And then there's the "it hurts to lie here completely still and just try to breathe" fun and games. When just trying to maintain existence becomes painful, it has long since past being funny.

Next on the list is weakness. It becomes a real chore to do something as simple as get out of bed to get a glass of water. I feel exhausted after putting on pants and have to lie back down after a shower. I can't do anything I need to or want to get done, the house becomes a mess because I don't have the energy to make the bed much less fold clothes or pick up clutter, and because I sleep so much due to a lack of energy, my circadian rhythm goes crazy.

So, here I am, doing work from home (and thank goodness I can, or I'd be missing even more than just fun events, but also income), sick as a dog and doing the best I can. Blegh.