Tag: hurdles

Running the Gauntlet to Get a Good Night’s Sleep

I actually wrote this blog post in my head a few weeks ago at 3 am when I should have been sleeping. I should have written it down, but instead I repeated it over and over again in hopes that I’d remember it, because I’m actually 5 blog posts behind in my queue, and that’s a personal record that has me stressed out beyond belief.

Yes, this is a self-imposed deadline, but not missing a post since I started this blog in December of 2012 puts a certain amount of self-imposed pressure on me, especially since I know that several people consider reading it a part of their routine. You’d think that when I switched a while back to only posting on even numbered days, rather than daily, it would have reduced the pressure by half, but no. Now my blogs seem to be longer and require more research than they once did. Again, that is self-imposed.

Since I knew that repeating posts in my head was part of the reason I could not sleep, this post is about the many things that can prevent me from sleeping. Most of them are thoughts. Some are noises.

My husband, and the vast majority of the men I know, won’t be able to relate to this at all. They can fall instantly to sleep and not wake up ‘til morning. I find this quite annoying, because they’ll say to me, “Why are you so tired? It sounds like we both went to bed at the same time.”

All I can do is tersely reply, “Well, we most definitely did not go to sleep at the same time.”

So here are the many challenges I have when it comes to getting a full night’s sleep.

  • My CPAP machine breaking its seal on my face and whistling loudly.
  • My CPAP machine breaking its seal on my face and blowing a jet of air that flutters my eyelashes.
  • My bladder.
  • Soreness in general.
  • My dogs, wanting breakfast at an ungodly hour, and therefore doing an impatient tap dance on the wooden floor.
  • The sun rising at freakin’ 5:11 in the morning and setting at 9:11 pm in the Seattle area around summer solstice.
  • The sun rising at freakin’ 7:57 in the morning and setting at 4:17 pm in the Seattle area around winter solstice.
  • My dog, snoring, and why I find it annoying sometimes and endearing other times.
  • Hearing a random, subtle sound coming from the other side of the house.
  • My dogs barking at the least sign of any sound.
  • Wondering if I remembered to lock all the doors.
  • How intensely I love my dogs.
  • My feet scratching on the sheets.
  • Funny things I forgot to tell Dear Husband.
  • Delightful conversations I had that day.
  • Negative conversations I had that week.
  • Young men with tiny little penises motorcycling or drag racing down our street at random hours.
  • Grown men with tiny little penises shooting guns or fireworks off in our neighborhood at random hours.
  • Things I’m looking forward to.
  • Things I’m dreading.
  • Am I forgetting anything?
  • The beeps of our computers or phones when one of us forgets to turn them off before bed.
  • Am I good at this marriage thing?
  • The things I do that I’m glad are not qualities that my Dear Husband possesses, and how lucky that makes me.
  • How much this blog post will upset DH, because he wants me to be able to be as positive, optimistic, and carefree as he is.
  • At what point did I lose all ability to keep things organized, and why is that?
  • What I need to do tomorrow.
  • Upcoming social obligations, and whether I’m dreading them or looking forward to them.
  • What I was supposed to do today but did not.
  • Health issues for myself and my loved ones.
  • The state of this country, and the state of the planet.
  • My next vacation, and how much of the world I still long to see.
  • Past vacations and how wonderful they were.
  • The many ways I feel I have fallen short.
  • The many ways people want me to change but I find myself incapable of doing so, despite my best efforts.
  • Did I remember to water the plants?  
  • Do I have my lunch ready for work tomorrow?
  • Which drawbridge will I be working on?
  • Which shift will I be working on?
  • Work BS.
  • Am I forgetting anything?
  • How lucky I am, generally.
  • Potato chips.
  • My imposter syndrome.
  • Do people think I’m weird?
  • Why do I seem so much weirder than most other people?
  • How can I convince people that I’m not weird?
  • Why do I care what anyone thinks?
  • OH SHIT WHAT TIME IS IT? DID I OVERSLEEP?
  • My irritation that my eyesight is so poor that I can’t always reliably see what time it is without putting on my glasses.
  • My disappointment at not being able to read more books.
  • The many new and unsettling things I’ve learned about myself in the past few months.
  • How grateful I am that I can still learn new things.
  • Aging.
  • The future.
  • The past.
  • My understandable love of naps.
  • My bladder again, and whether I should hold it until the alarm goes off in an hour, or just admit I need to pee, get up and do it, and then return to bed and try to sleep for that last precious hour, knowing I won’t achieve REM sleep in that timeframe.
  • Am I forgetting anything?
  • Attempting to change positions as quietly as possible so as not to wake the dogs.
  • Cheese.
  • My desperate need to meditate before bedtime, which I never quite get around to doing.

Welcome to my brain.

After that, I usually remember to do a body part relaxation exercise, and I fall asleep for what little time I have left.

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A Depressive’s Check List

One thing at a time.

When I’m depressed, even the word “list” is overwhelming. Everything seems too much. I don’t have the focus or the strength or the will to make even the most simple of decisions, and I’m already feeling like an abject failure, so the concept of having more than one thing on a list, and then having to choose which thing is the most important, and then actually do that thing, knowing darned well that at least one of the things isn’t going to happen, and the guilt and emotional self-torture that will result from not doing that thing? It’s too much. Waaaaaaaay too much.

After a lifetime experience with sporadic depression, I’ve learned to keep it simple. Here’s my list:

Do one thing.

Breathe. Our society stigmatizes depression, and seems to assume that it’s just another form of laziness or immaturity, or self-indulgent nonsense that shouldn’t be taken seriously. But I’ve been there enough times to know that doing one thing while depressed is a gigantic accomplishment, and one to be proud of.

That one thing might be getting out of bed. That’s a huge deal and a lot harder than it looks from the outside. And it’s progress. For a while that was my list: Get out of bed. But over time I realized even that was too much. It’s too specific. It sets one up for potential failure. Making the list a bit more vague allows for flexibility based on circumstances, and it increases one’s margin of potential success. So…

Do one thing.

Potential things might be eating something. Showering. Changing positions. Whatever it is, it’s a thing. Things are good. Once you’ve done a thing, then, and only then, consider doing another thing if you are able. One thing at a time. Don’t overwhelm yourself by trying to think too far ahead.

This list might seem like an unattainable luxury to those out there who have kids or can’t miss a day of work for fear of the financial consequences. Life must go on. I get that. I do. And yes, let’s be honest, you may have to power through and do your “one things” in quicker succession for the pure sake of survival, but your list can still be simple for now.

Do one thing.

I look at my depression as this huge, dark, fetid pool that I have to get across. The less time I spend in these toxic waters, the better off I’ll be. So doing one thing is like throwing a lily pad out there. I did one thing. Great! I hopped to that first lily pad. So far so good. Only then do I contemplate the next lily pad. For me, at least, the process will be slow. Others might have to move a little more quickly. But I usually can get away with slow. Slow and steady wins the race.

Do one thing.

Feed the dogs.

Do one thing.

Brush your hair.

A really good thing to do is ask for help. But that’s a hard one. Imagine, though, how good you’ll feel if that’s the one thing you do. But no pressure.

If you have the energy after you’ve done one thing, maybe consider writing that thing down and then crossing it out. That might be another thing to do. It’s up to you.

Be gentle with yourself, dear reader. Simplify. Remember that hopping from one lily pad to the next is progress. It may not seem like a big deal to those who are observing from the shoreline, but, believe me, I know. It’s huge.

If you’re lucky, and you’ve allowed yourself to just focus on the next lily pad of the moment, eventually you’ll look up in surprise and realize you’ve reached the opposite shore. You’ll have reason to rejoice. You did it.

Even if you suspect there may be other ponds of depression in your future, you now know that you can do this. Hopefully that will make those ponds seem a tiny bit smaller and a little less overwhelming. So hold on to that list of yours, as tightly as you can. Even that is a start.

Do one thing.

If you’re having thoughts of self-harm, dear reader, I hope that the one thing you do will be to click on this link for the Suicide Prevention Lifeline, because you matter. You really do. I promise.

Beware Abundance

I absolutely love buffets, so I try to avoid them. I am frugal by nature, so when I’m charged a fixed price in an all you can eat situation, I tend to try to get my money’s worth. In other words, I gorge myself. I don’t think I’ve ever left a buffet without feeling slightly sick to my stomach and at least moderately ashamed.

Abundance is not something I’ve experienced very often in my life, so it’s not surprising that I tend to overdo. It brings out the worst in me. I can’t imagine who I’d be if I lived in a constant state of abundance. I suspect that this is why the super rich are, for the most part, despicable human beings. If they exhibit even a shred of decency, they’ve no doubt had to work extremely hard to maintain it.

When you have to work for what you need, you appreciate it much more. When you aren’t completely sure you’ll get what you want, it inspires you to strive toward your goals. Achievements are so much sweeter when you’ve actually had to achieve them.

It’s the struggle that defines us. I don’t think pride is such a bad thing when you’ve seen a hurdle and have managed to clamber over it. Yay, you! Victories are all the more delicious for having been hard-won.

I have much more respect for those who try and don’t always succeed than I do for those who have had everything in their lives handed to them on a platinum patter. For most of us, life is not a buffet. But there’s a certain dignity to being figuratively lean and hungry, all while maintaining your integrity.

Buffets

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Do It Yourself

So yeah, this happened: I got dressed in grubby clothes, complete with an extra t-shirt to cover my hair, and a face mask and safety glasses and gloves, and I dragged my fat self under my house. Mission: installing insulation on the sub-floor.

I think it’s important to know one’s house from top to bottom, but I’ve never known a crawl space that wasn’t unspeakably gross, and this one is no exception. Despite the extra t-shirt, I was picking spider eggs out of my hair in the shower later that day. Fortunately, the rat poop was at a minimum, but it was still there. And I was blowing fiberglass and dust out of my nose for hours afterward. I knew I would feel it in the morning, and I wasn’t wrong.

Why do I put myself through this? For starters, I’m cheap, and can’t justify paying someone else to do something that I can do myself. But mostly it’s simply because I can, and I’m proud of this. When I was a teenager, I had a summer job with the Youth Conservation Corps and it taught me that I’m capable of a heck of a lot.

My whole life, I’ve been told I couldn’t do things. Because I’m a girl. Because I’m too young or too old or too weak or, well, because it’s just not done. So I used to change the oil in my car myself. I took vacations alone in the woods. I traveled overseas by myself. And I’ve done more than one home improvement project in my day. It does wonders for my self-esteem.

Sooner or later I’ll reach an age where crawling under my house will be foolhardy at best. I can see that time off on the horizon, but it gets a little closer every day. I wonder if I’ll be sad or relieved when that day finally comes?

My advice would be to ignore the naysayers. If you have the brains to learn how to do something (God bless Youtube), and the physical ability to pull it off, then do it yourself as often as you can. You’ll value the results more, and you’ll gain the confidence you need to climb over the next hurdle that crosses your path.

MeUndertheHouse
Me under my house.

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Good for You…

Please tell me I’m not the only one who feels this way. Someone I love has just had the best thing happen to him. I mean, the kind of luck that only strikes you about as often as lightning. And I’m so happy for him it brings tears to my eyes. But.

At the same time, I kind of feel resentful. I can’t help but see his good fortune as casting a painful glare on the hurdles I still have to jump over with my rapidly decreasing energy and flagging determination.

Ugh. I’m a horrible person. I should simply be thrilled for my friend. And where do I get off with the “poor me” attitude when there are so many people in this world who have it worse off than I do?

But I resent that, too–the idea that I can’t be bitter and frustrated unless I’m the most unfortunate person on the planet. Can’t I at least have my angst? I don’t get to have that, either?

Dammit, I want the dream job in Hawaii. I want the winning lottery ticket. I want the clean bill of health, the chance to travel the world, the man of my dreams, the fame, the fortune, the luck…

Most of all, I want the right to throw an inner tantrum even as I am sincerely thrilled for someone else. I want that dichotomy to be easy to take as well as being socially acceptable. I want to understand it and own it without feeling the need to blog it out of my system. Is that really too much to ask?

contradiction

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If You Could Do Anything…

If money, time, responsibilities, age, and health were no object, what would you do right now? If there were no barriers in your way, what dreams would you pursue? What goals would you try to achieve?

I think about this quite a bit. As I’ve said, I have a very long bucket list. I dream big. Even so, my “one thing” seems to be different depending on which month or year you ask me.

Today, at this moment, what I’d love to do more than anything else is pursue a Master of Fine Arts at my alma mater, Warren Wilson College. Many very talented writers have gone through that MFA program, and have gone on to win National Endowments for the Arts; Guggenheim, Radcliffe, Stegner and Hodder fellowships; the Rome Prize from the Academy of American Letters; Whiting Awards; the NAACP Image award; The Rona Jaffe Foundation Writers’ Award; the Kate Tufts Discovery Award;  the Juniper Prize for Fiction; the Lannan Literary Award for Poetry; the Kenyon Review Fellowship; the Andre Norton Award for Young Adult Science Fiction and Fantasy; The Howard Frank Moser Short Fiction Prize; and on and on. Even more have gone on to be published through highly acclaimed publishing houses. I genuinely think this program would push my writing to the next level.

It is a low residency program, which means I could remain in my beloved Seattle most of the time. But twice a year I would experience the delight of Western North Carolina and its Blue Ridge Mountains. And there’s something magical about the WWC campus. It is one of the most environmental and liberal campuses in the country, and it influences you. It gets into your bloodstream. You can’t go there without leaving as a more amazing you. I’ve tried to get many people to attend this fine institution. One day I hope someone will actually listen to me, because this place is a gift.

So what is holding me back? Money, first and foremost. That always seems to be my biggest hurdle. The bills won’t stop coming simply because I would prefer that my focus be elsewhere. And then of course there’s the question of time. An MFA is not a trivial pursuit. It’s not something I could squeeze in between my bridge openings at work. And unfortunately, that work is what keeps the dogs in kibble.

So unless I happen to stub my toe on the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, I’ll simply have to keep dreaming of a path in life that I most likely will never have a chance to take. Somewhere in an alternate universe, another me is sitting under a tree in the heart of an alternate Appalachia, learning how to be the most incredible writer she can be.

Oh, and she’s younger, thinner, in a loving relationship, and impervious to cold. Why not? Given my active imagination, I can almost content myself with that. Almost.

So now it’s your turn. What would you do, if you could do anything?

wwc

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