So, I've been in Canada about a month and a half, and my poor sweet baby has had two incidences of feeling sick enough or bad enough to stay home from work. So I've had two opportunities to play nurse-maid to my sick baby.
And I must say I've done a smashing job of it. I've discovered that the job is quite easy.
Let's face it: what we need most when we are sick is rest. Sleep is the best way to allow our body time and opportunity to heal itself. So, sleep is what my baby gets. The first time she was sick - battling strep throat, she slept about 21 hours each day for about three days. I did what any good partner would do. I stayed with her while she slept. And, um, slept myself. It was, after all, a good way to allow my immune system to stay strong to avoid contracting the strep throat myself. (I could post a gruesome picture showing the infection growing on her tonsil, but I imagine she'd rather I didn't...)
Today (er, yesterday?) my baby had a horrible headache when she woke, and I did what any good girlfriend would do. I stayed in bed with her and slept while she slept it off herself.
Unfortunately, my friend insomnia decided THIS time to come visit me this evening. He thought I'd had enough rest and sleep in the last few days, particularly considering I had gone to bed early the night before myself. And so she sleeps now, in the middle of the night like she's supposed to, and I return to my old craft of blogging. The lost art.
Because I am the teddy bear nursemaid. I heal by allowing you (well, not YOU, but, the sick person who happens to be my partner) snuggle up to me like I'm your teddy bear, while we let Mother Nature do the hard work. Who needs chicken soup (particularly when your baby IS a chicken, and there's all sorts of cannibalism questions there) when you can have rest and snuggling?
Showing posts with label insomnia. Show all posts
Showing posts with label insomnia. Show all posts
Wednesday, April 17, 2013
Sunday, April 14, 2013
Old Friends...
It is natural that when you move, you may lose a few friends along the way. There are some friendships that require your presence to be maintained. And some friendships that survive the distance, and which may also survive infrequent contact. Time, often, is the only way to tell which friendships will be which.
Some old friends, though, frankly you are glad to be away from, and you hope they'll lose your number, your e-mail, and forget how to contact you.
Tonight, one of my old friends, nonetheless, whom I was hoping to leave behind has seemed to catch up with me. Yes, that's right, my old friend insomnia.... My how I've missed you. NOT. You could have stayed back in the U.S. Nothing here in Canada requires your presence. You may move on, my friend, and return from whence you came.
Insomnia when you're single and when you live alone looks different than insomnia when you're with someone else. First of all, when you're alone, and you toss and turn in your bed, at least you aren't keeping someone else awake. Second of all, then, you can stay in your own bed while you wait for insomnia to be on its way.
Sharing a bed with someone else means that there is a moment when you finally decide you can't be helping her sleep, and if you're going to continue to be wide awake, well, then, you might want to be nice to the one you sleep with and go some place else to be wide awake. Trouble is, of course, is half the time they realize you've gotten up and left, and you may not have solved anything. Except, of course, you can blog in peace without worrying about the tip tap of fingers on the keyboard waking them further and making them wonder when the hell you're gonna fall asleep so they can too.
In the time that has passed while trying to fall asleep, my mind has wandered in many different directions. But I will spare you those wanderings.
Suffice to say, my old friend, I wish you'd stayed back in the old place. And with that, my eyes begin to droop...
Some old friends, though, frankly you are glad to be away from, and you hope they'll lose your number, your e-mail, and forget how to contact you.
Tonight, one of my old friends, nonetheless, whom I was hoping to leave behind has seemed to catch up with me. Yes, that's right, my old friend insomnia.... My how I've missed you. NOT. You could have stayed back in the U.S. Nothing here in Canada requires your presence. You may move on, my friend, and return from whence you came.
Insomnia when you're single and when you live alone looks different than insomnia when you're with someone else. First of all, when you're alone, and you toss and turn in your bed, at least you aren't keeping someone else awake. Second of all, then, you can stay in your own bed while you wait for insomnia to be on its way.
Sharing a bed with someone else means that there is a moment when you finally decide you can't be helping her sleep, and if you're going to continue to be wide awake, well, then, you might want to be nice to the one you sleep with and go some place else to be wide awake. Trouble is, of course, is half the time they realize you've gotten up and left, and you may not have solved anything. Except, of course, you can blog in peace without worrying about the tip tap of fingers on the keyboard waking them further and making them wonder when the hell you're gonna fall asleep so they can too.
In the time that has passed while trying to fall asleep, my mind has wandered in many different directions. But I will spare you those wanderings.
Suffice to say, my old friend, I wish you'd stayed back in the old place. And with that, my eyes begin to droop...
Sunday, February 3, 2013
Sleepless 'til Seattle....
I have just returned home from the airport to an empty house. A house that has been filled the past nine days with the presence and being and sounds and scent of the woman I'm incredibly in love with. A woman who is now on a plane to take her to another plane that will take her back to Seattle where she will still have another long drive across the border.
My "journey" for this trip is done... but hers is just beginning.
The original plan had been for me to make the trip and come and see her first. I have more flexibility in my work schedule since they don't pay me when I don't work and I had intended to come out for a long visit to be with her. But the original certificate of my birth given to my parents 40+ years failed to list them on it, and thanks, I imagine to the Donald requiring a long-form birth certificate, so does everyone else now. So to get across the border to see her I needed a long form birth certificate to get a new passport.
This process has been a comedy of errors. Primarily in getting a new birth certificate. But that arrived about three weeks ago - about six weeks after I requested it - and I sent it off for my passport about two and a half weeks ago.
When she was here, we "joked" - although I was kinda serious - that if my passport arrived before she left, that we would just pack up the car and go, and I'd leave this one horse town.
To the State Department's credit, they processed my application in record time - just over two weeks!
It arrived yesterday.
Believe me, we did seriously consider it. Well at least I did. She has a sounder head on my shoulders (have I mentioned yet that she's smarter than me? She is...). And tonight, I do wonder just what it is that is keeping me here...
I will probably be sleepless until she arrives in Seattle... Seeing her here and there... everywhere but really here in my arms.
Hopeless romantic...
My "journey" for this trip is done... but hers is just beginning.
The original plan had been for me to make the trip and come and see her first. I have more flexibility in my work schedule since they don't pay me when I don't work and I had intended to come out for a long visit to be with her. But the original certificate of my birth given to my parents 40+ years failed to list them on it, and thanks, I imagine to the Donald requiring a long-form birth certificate, so does everyone else now. So to get across the border to see her I needed a long form birth certificate to get a new passport.
This process has been a comedy of errors. Primarily in getting a new birth certificate. But that arrived about three weeks ago - about six weeks after I requested it - and I sent it off for my passport about two and a half weeks ago.
When she was here, we "joked" - although I was kinda serious - that if my passport arrived before she left, that we would just pack up the car and go, and I'd leave this one horse town.
To the State Department's credit, they processed my application in record time - just over two weeks!
It arrived yesterday.
Believe me, we did seriously consider it. Well at least I did. She has a sounder head on my shoulders (have I mentioned yet that she's smarter than me? She is...). And tonight, I do wonder just what it is that is keeping me here...
I will probably be sleepless until she arrives in Seattle... Seeing her here and there... everywhere but really here in my arms.
Hopeless romantic...
Monday, January 21, 2013
Love...
In my head, and in my heart, I suppose, I have certain things that I expect to be done or felt between people who love each other. That if A loved B then X wouldn't really matter but Y would. Now, wait, I sound like I am writing an algebra equation.
I have been quite the observer - particularly over the last three or four years - of people's relationships. Trying to figure out what makes them successful, and where there are signs of failure. Trying, I presume, consciously or subconsciously, to figure it out so I have a better shot the next time I jump into the relationship waters. Trying to figure out what behavior is loving and what is not loving.
And I think I have a pretty good idea of some of the important ingredients necessary for a successful and loving relationship. Some things are pretty straightforward. Things like valuing what your partner values. Being respectful even when you disagree. Realizing that being right doesn't always mean you need to win, and that winning often - at least with arguments - isn't really winning. Lots of good trite guidance, but stuff that nonetheless I believe in. And maybe one day I will write a post about these things. (Or maybe I already did?)
After my marriage came to an end, I was told by more than one person that I needed to find someone who would love me like I loved them. Seems reasonable enough, but what does that really mean? I think it means some of the things I discovered in my observance above. That someone who really loves me will find the things I find important simply because I do. And won't worry about the things I find unimportant. Who will love me for me, and not for my things, or for what I can do or bring to the relationship. Who will love me despite my ADD or maybe even love me for who my ADD has made me - flaws and human and all.
If you have been reading this at all, you'll know that I have dipped my toe into the relationship waters, again. Actually, I seem to have dove in head first. Or more accurately heart first. I tend to do that sometimes. I did bring wee bit of baggage. Criticisms from girls past. Things that I know shouldn't matter but often do or have.
And so, in these early stages, we have traipsed along some of these issues and as I have left myself vulnerable to her and exposed my insecurities, she reacts as I would to someone who would do the same to me. Laugh, basically, and call me silly. Silly to worry. Silly to care. Silly to think that she would care. But not silly in an emotionally abusive intentionally hurtful way, but in a way to help me realize that these matters I take so seriously, and worry so much about, are not so serious, and do not deserve worry. She reassures me in the moment. And then, later, as she's had more time to think on my concern, and perhaps in an unconscious (or conscious? who knows? She's very smart - much smarter than me!) effort to make sure I didn't feel dismissed, she usually will write a follow-up e-mail saying, "Look, Borg, I've really been thinking about Y and how you feel, and I want you to know, I really do believe..." and reassure me again. AND THEN, because that may not be enough, she'll bring it up later in a conversation, gently, and reassure me once again. And IF I am too silly to realize I don't need to be silly, still, and I tentatively express a concern or a worry, she hears my underlying insecurity and addresses it again.
WOW! I mean really.. WOW, right?
I'll give you an example. My most recent insecurity has been coming to accept and acknowledge (although really I'm still in denial) that I am a slob. I am still in denial because I will tell you I am better than many. It is all relative, after all. But I am not the standard that *I* would like to be at, and I do feel, often, that my environment is chaotic. I would prefer to be neater, but there are some bonafide and perhaps less bonafide obstacles standing in my way. (Being Human, see earlier post, is one of them.. SHOCKER!). I do pride myself that I don't have anything growing outside the fridge, but I do also have dust bunnies copulating in the kitchen and the bedroom. They entertain me.... (okay, not, but it sounded cute for a moment in my head).
I worry, needlessly, that she'll step into my home for the first time, see the stacks of papers and go screaming in the other direction. And yet, in addition to her reassurances, I know I don't have to worry. She's the kinda gal who gets upset at people who tweet how much better they feel about themselves after watching Hoarders and pleading for them to have compassion for the mentally ill (although I think she phrases it even nicer than that..) So, it's good to know she'll have compassion for me and my mental illness.. No.. wait.. that isn't where I meant to go. Hmm....
She's coming to visit me soon, and I created a 72 point list of things I'd *like* to do before she gets here to get the house in order (Remember #3 in the list of So Who Am I? is that I'm a geek). But God has a sense of humor, and life, unfortunately, has gotten in the way. Actually, more accurately, death - a parishioner in our church passed away Saturday morning, and I sat with him and with his family the last two days of his life, and will now be with the family in preparing for the funeral arrangements, and prepare at the church for the service itself. As much as I would like to get to those 72 items (or at least, even, 25 of them) the reality is I probably won't get to more than another two or three that are really important and the rest will go by the wayside.. Or, in a fit of idiocy, I'll take everything in the rest of the house and shove it all into one room where I will never let her see... Oh. Wait. She reads this blog... that won't work.. she'll be too curious to open the door NOW!
And she's said to me, quite often, "Look, Borg, the only place I want to be when I come is in your arms. I don't care about the rest...." You know something? I actually believe her.
Now that, my friends, is love...
I have been quite the observer - particularly over the last three or four years - of people's relationships. Trying to figure out what makes them successful, and where there are signs of failure. Trying, I presume, consciously or subconsciously, to figure it out so I have a better shot the next time I jump into the relationship waters. Trying to figure out what behavior is loving and what is not loving.
And I think I have a pretty good idea of some of the important ingredients necessary for a successful and loving relationship. Some things are pretty straightforward. Things like valuing what your partner values. Being respectful even when you disagree. Realizing that being right doesn't always mean you need to win, and that winning often - at least with arguments - isn't really winning. Lots of good trite guidance, but stuff that nonetheless I believe in. And maybe one day I will write a post about these things. (Or maybe I already did?)
After my marriage came to an end, I was told by more than one person that I needed to find someone who would love me like I loved them. Seems reasonable enough, but what does that really mean? I think it means some of the things I discovered in my observance above. That someone who really loves me will find the things I find important simply because I do. And won't worry about the things I find unimportant. Who will love me for me, and not for my things, or for what I can do or bring to the relationship. Who will love me despite my ADD or maybe even love me for who my ADD has made me - flaws and human and all.
If you have been reading this at all, you'll know that I have dipped my toe into the relationship waters, again. Actually, I seem to have dove in head first. Or more accurately heart first. I tend to do that sometimes. I did bring wee bit of baggage. Criticisms from girls past. Things that I know shouldn't matter but often do or have.
And so, in these early stages, we have traipsed along some of these issues and as I have left myself vulnerable to her and exposed my insecurities, she reacts as I would to someone who would do the same to me. Laugh, basically, and call me silly. Silly to worry. Silly to care. Silly to think that she would care. But not silly in an emotionally abusive intentionally hurtful way, but in a way to help me realize that these matters I take so seriously, and worry so much about, are not so serious, and do not deserve worry. She reassures me in the moment. And then, later, as she's had more time to think on my concern, and perhaps in an unconscious (or conscious? who knows? She's very smart - much smarter than me!) effort to make sure I didn't feel dismissed, she usually will write a follow-up e-mail saying, "Look, Borg, I've really been thinking about Y and how you feel, and I want you to know, I really do believe..." and reassure me again. AND THEN, because that may not be enough, she'll bring it up later in a conversation, gently, and reassure me once again. And IF I am too silly to realize I don't need to be silly, still, and I tentatively express a concern or a worry, she hears my underlying insecurity and addresses it again.
WOW! I mean really.. WOW, right?
I'll give you an example. My most recent insecurity has been coming to accept and acknowledge (although really I'm still in denial) that I am a slob. I am still in denial because I will tell you I am better than many. It is all relative, after all. But I am not the standard that *I* would like to be at, and I do feel, often, that my environment is chaotic. I would prefer to be neater, but there are some bonafide and perhaps less bonafide obstacles standing in my way. (Being Human, see earlier post, is one of them.. SHOCKER!). I do pride myself that I don't have anything growing outside the fridge, but I do also have dust bunnies copulating in the kitchen and the bedroom. They entertain me.... (okay, not, but it sounded cute for a moment in my head).
I worry, needlessly, that she'll step into my home for the first time, see the stacks of papers and go screaming in the other direction. And yet, in addition to her reassurances, I know I don't have to worry. She's the kinda gal who gets upset at people who tweet how much better they feel about themselves after watching Hoarders and pleading for them to have compassion for the mentally ill (although I think she phrases it even nicer than that..) So, it's good to know she'll have compassion for me and my mental illness.. No.. wait.. that isn't where I meant to go. Hmm....
She's coming to visit me soon, and I created a 72 point list of things I'd *like* to do before she gets here to get the house in order (Remember #3 in the list of So Who Am I? is that I'm a geek). But God has a sense of humor, and life, unfortunately, has gotten in the way. Actually, more accurately, death - a parishioner in our church passed away Saturday morning, and I sat with him and with his family the last two days of his life, and will now be with the family in preparing for the funeral arrangements, and prepare at the church for the service itself. As much as I would like to get to those 72 items (or at least, even, 25 of them) the reality is I probably won't get to more than another two or three that are really important and the rest will go by the wayside.. Or, in a fit of idiocy, I'll take everything in the rest of the house and shove it all into one room where I will never let her see... Oh. Wait. She reads this blog... that won't work.. she'll be too curious to open the door NOW!
And she's said to me, quite often, "Look, Borg, the only place I want to be when I come is in your arms. I don't care about the rest...." You know something? I actually believe her.
Now that, my friends, is love...
Thursday, December 20, 2012
Insomnia - My Old Friend
I apparently have anything BUT a regular sleep schedule lately. Says the girl typing at 3:50 AM.
I have had days where I sleep from 1 - 5 every day, twice a day. Days where I wake up every two hours, and fortunately drift back to sleep. Naps so deep that when I wake I am completely disoriented as to what day it is let alone what time of day it is.
For the most part, I don't spend my days dragging, although I have come home from lunch for an afternoon nap or two on occasion. So I guess I have to hope that my body is getting the sleep it needs.... even if it needs it, or takes it, at some strange hours.
I had a friend in college - who I was quite jealous of because of this fact - who literally only needed and only got four hours of sleep day. I mean imagine how much work you could get done (because in college I still thought it was important to get work done) if you could stay up studying until 2 AM, and be back awake again at 6 AM?? I mean wow!
Be careful what you wish for, folks! ;)
But tonight's insomnia, I'm fairly certain, is brought to me by the letter 'H' as in Holidays. As you may recall, some of my family is coming to visit. Woo hoo.. Oh, wait. No. Fortunately, I live practically across the street from the Mall where there's a hotel where they will stay so I don't have to have them stay literally in my house.
Because, apparently, I'm angsting over that.
I actually live in a fairly nice sized space for a single person. I lucked out in the housing department when I finally got to have my own space again after a year of living in various other people's homes after fleeing my own home of a decade. I live in a stand-alone house, that actually has copious amounts of space, that I have managed to expand into. Much more than I ever needed. It's a two-bedroom home, and the front bedroom is essentially a storage area (read junk room/pretend-office) and the back bedroom is actually 15 foot wide, so large enough to not only have a sleeping area, but also to have a sitting area, too. The bathroom is ridiculously huge, and the kitchen is fairly large, although limited counter space, too. And I am blessed with an extra back room - which I've thought of as a mud room / pantry until I got a washer / dryer given to me this past year, and now it's the mud room / pantry / laundry room. No dining room in the house, but there is a living room.
It's a lot of space for one person, which has been nice. Some of the apartments I looked at before I found the house were a lot cozier, including one place which was essentially three rooms, no doors, in a row - the living room area, connected to the bedroom in the middle, with the kitchen on the opposite side. So, if I had had company, they would have to traipse through my bedroom area to get to the kitchen, which I didn't like particularly much. Plus the rooms were small, and the landlord mentioned that he thought the woman next door on the same floor might have a lot of paid evening guests.
The next place would have been nice if I were about, oh, say, a foot taller. There was no air conditioning, and the windows that could open were all situated quite high on the walls- difficult for me to open to get any kind of cross-breeze going. It was two bedrooms, but that was it - two bedrooms and a kitchen. And in the kitchen, again, apartment was designed for a giant, I seriously seriously would not have been able to reach them without a step stool. I may have been able to access the bottom shelf of them, but I'm not sure even that.
I have lived in a house for a good deal of my life - although I have lived in an apartment, too. I admit, I prefer not sharing walls with others because you have the illusion, at least, that you can be louder. One twitter friend complains regularly about the boy who lives under her and the noise he makes. I can make considerable noise here - even vacuum in the middle of the night - and not worry about waking anyone or bothering anyone.
The yard here leaves a LOT to be desired. Some of that is my fault, because I never seem to have a working lawnmower. As soon as someone gives me theirs that I have been borrowing, it no longer seems to work. (Seriously, has happened more than once!). But it is also quite uneven, and there are a lot of dips and holes and places waiting for me to sprain my ankle. Always an exciting prospect when you have no health insurance.
But here's the thing about my house. It's furnished somewhat sparingly for one. It is in many ways like a large master bedroom suite. There is plenty of wonderful space for ME to be comfortable. But not enough space to really share with anyone else or to entertain. So I don't. No-one even tries to come into my house, and I've grown quite comfortable with that. Perhaps a bit too comfortable, but comfortable nonetheless.
My house is furnished with cast-aways and give-aways from folks from my church. The bed I sleep on was someone else's guest bedroom bed that they decided to replace right around the time I was moving in. The frame is off because there's a metal part that sticks out that I can't figure out how to make go in. It's pretty basic - nothing more than the metal support frame. I have two dressers from a friend who left the country and just returned (and wants one back?), and a nice oversized chair in the bedroom from a friend whose wife didn't agree with his purchase.
In the living room, there is a love-seat sized couch - two people can sit on it cozily - and a setee that I was basically storing for the friend who had left the country for a year. It smells (faintly now) of cat piss, and I don't recommend it as a place for anyone to rest upon. But my friend has apparently grown immune to the smell, and so for her, it is a lovely piece from her house that she will want returned (I keep hoping) some day.
So, if I invite the folks in, I have no place for them to sit comfortably to stay and hang. There is not enough room for a tree - I have a fairly pathetic desktop tree that makes Charlie Brown's Christmas tree look lush. No place to hang the stockings - although I do have one, and just received another last night at a party. There is no television in my house - no TV to watch any games on or any Christmas specials or even movies on DVD. I watch all my stuff on my computer.
Then there's the subject of Christmas dinner. I have had several friends ask me or comment upon how I'll now be responsible for Christmas dinner. To which I reply to them, I don't think so. I purchased a small 2' diameter (maybe four foot, but 2' width when the "leaves" are down) table for my kitchen with two little stools from Wal*Mart after living here for six months. There is no room for more than two to eat.
Plus, it isn't as if I am much of a cook.
So, I am having a little angst. I did manage to keep from inviting them in their last visit without much trouble or awkwardness at all - and frankly, I'm hoping for a repeat of that. Because my living space is designed for one, or perhaps one + one guest. It works for me. But it doesn't work in this kind of setting.
My opinion, generally, is that they invited themselves - they shouldn't expect me to do these things, and for the most part I think that's a pretty reasonable opinion, and in line with their expectations. On Christmas day, I am planning a Jewish Christmas with a friend of mine (who is Jewish, of course) where we will have Chinese food and see a movie. On Christmas Eve, they will be forced to go to my church. :) That solves the Christmas dinner issue.
But my fear - perhaps unwarranted, since last time they were so accomodating and didn't look for an invite in - is that by NOT inviting them in, they will think I am hiding something. And maybe I am - I do feel protective over my space, even though it doesn't entirely reflect me since I've only spent money on the kitchen table, the refrigerator and a set of shelves for the pantry, and everything else was given to me and fit in where it could. I have three desks in three different rooms! None of which have chairs with which to sit at. I don't want them to judge my ability to thrive based upon my living space, because it may not send the message that I have healed and recovered well enough for their standards. They already wonder what I'm doing in this small town... and even offered unsolicited this past month to move me some place else.
They are well meaning.
But they are giving me insomnia. And forcing me to write long rambling posts (because usually my posts are so short and pithy.. ;) ) Bleah...
(And why am I NOT surprised that I already have a label on the side for Insomnia..? Ah, my old friend... we spend too much time together..)
I have had days where I sleep from 1 - 5 every day, twice a day. Days where I wake up every two hours, and fortunately drift back to sleep. Naps so deep that when I wake I am completely disoriented as to what day it is let alone what time of day it is.
For the most part, I don't spend my days dragging, although I have come home from lunch for an afternoon nap or two on occasion. So I guess I have to hope that my body is getting the sleep it needs.... even if it needs it, or takes it, at some strange hours.
I had a friend in college - who I was quite jealous of because of this fact - who literally only needed and only got four hours of sleep day. I mean imagine how much work you could get done (because in college I still thought it was important to get work done) if you could stay up studying until 2 AM, and be back awake again at 6 AM?? I mean wow!
Be careful what you wish for, folks! ;)
But tonight's insomnia, I'm fairly certain, is brought to me by the letter 'H' as in Holidays. As you may recall, some of my family is coming to visit. Woo hoo.. Oh, wait. No. Fortunately, I live practically across the street from the Mall where there's a hotel where they will stay so I don't have to have them stay literally in my house.
Because, apparently, I'm angsting over that.
I actually live in a fairly nice sized space for a single person. I lucked out in the housing department when I finally got to have my own space again after a year of living in various other people's homes after fleeing my own home of a decade. I live in a stand-alone house, that actually has copious amounts of space, that I have managed to expand into. Much more than I ever needed. It's a two-bedroom home, and the front bedroom is essentially a storage area (read junk room/pretend-office) and the back bedroom is actually 15 foot wide, so large enough to not only have a sleeping area, but also to have a sitting area, too. The bathroom is ridiculously huge, and the kitchen is fairly large, although limited counter space, too. And I am blessed with an extra back room - which I've thought of as a mud room / pantry until I got a washer / dryer given to me this past year, and now it's the mud room / pantry / laundry room. No dining room in the house, but there is a living room.
It's a lot of space for one person, which has been nice. Some of the apartments I looked at before I found the house were a lot cozier, including one place which was essentially three rooms, no doors, in a row - the living room area, connected to the bedroom in the middle, with the kitchen on the opposite side. So, if I had had company, they would have to traipse through my bedroom area to get to the kitchen, which I didn't like particularly much. Plus the rooms were small, and the landlord mentioned that he thought the woman next door on the same floor might have a lot of paid evening guests.
The next place would have been nice if I were about, oh, say, a foot taller. There was no air conditioning, and the windows that could open were all situated quite high on the walls- difficult for me to open to get any kind of cross-breeze going. It was two bedrooms, but that was it - two bedrooms and a kitchen. And in the kitchen, again, apartment was designed for a giant, I seriously seriously would not have been able to reach them without a step stool. I may have been able to access the bottom shelf of them, but I'm not sure even that.
I have lived in a house for a good deal of my life - although I have lived in an apartment, too. I admit, I prefer not sharing walls with others because you have the illusion, at least, that you can be louder. One twitter friend complains regularly about the boy who lives under her and the noise he makes. I can make considerable noise here - even vacuum in the middle of the night - and not worry about waking anyone or bothering anyone.
The yard here leaves a LOT to be desired. Some of that is my fault, because I never seem to have a working lawnmower. As soon as someone gives me theirs that I have been borrowing, it no longer seems to work. (Seriously, has happened more than once!). But it is also quite uneven, and there are a lot of dips and holes and places waiting for me to sprain my ankle. Always an exciting prospect when you have no health insurance.
But here's the thing about my house. It's furnished somewhat sparingly for one. It is in many ways like a large master bedroom suite. There is plenty of wonderful space for ME to be comfortable. But not enough space to really share with anyone else or to entertain. So I don't. No-one even tries to come into my house, and I've grown quite comfortable with that. Perhaps a bit too comfortable, but comfortable nonetheless.
My house is furnished with cast-aways and give-aways from folks from my church. The bed I sleep on was someone else's guest bedroom bed that they decided to replace right around the time I was moving in. The frame is off because there's a metal part that sticks out that I can't figure out how to make go in. It's pretty basic - nothing more than the metal support frame. I have two dressers from a friend who left the country and just returned (and wants one back?), and a nice oversized chair in the bedroom from a friend whose wife didn't agree with his purchase.
In the living room, there is a love-seat sized couch - two people can sit on it cozily - and a setee that I was basically storing for the friend who had left the country for a year. It smells (faintly now) of cat piss, and I don't recommend it as a place for anyone to rest upon. But my friend has apparently grown immune to the smell, and so for her, it is a lovely piece from her house that she will want returned (I keep hoping) some day.
So, if I invite the folks in, I have no place for them to sit comfortably to stay and hang. There is not enough room for a tree - I have a fairly pathetic desktop tree that makes Charlie Brown's Christmas tree look lush. No place to hang the stockings - although I do have one, and just received another last night at a party. There is no television in my house - no TV to watch any games on or any Christmas specials or even movies on DVD. I watch all my stuff on my computer.
Then there's the subject of Christmas dinner. I have had several friends ask me or comment upon how I'll now be responsible for Christmas dinner. To which I reply to them, I don't think so. I purchased a small 2' diameter (maybe four foot, but 2' width when the "leaves" are down) table for my kitchen with two little stools from Wal*Mart after living here for six months. There is no room for more than two to eat.
Plus, it isn't as if I am much of a cook.
So, I am having a little angst. I did manage to keep from inviting them in their last visit without much trouble or awkwardness at all - and frankly, I'm hoping for a repeat of that. Because my living space is designed for one, or perhaps one + one guest. It works for me. But it doesn't work in this kind of setting.
My opinion, generally, is that they invited themselves - they shouldn't expect me to do these things, and for the most part I think that's a pretty reasonable opinion, and in line with their expectations. On Christmas day, I am planning a Jewish Christmas with a friend of mine (who is Jewish, of course) where we will have Chinese food and see a movie. On Christmas Eve, they will be forced to go to my church. :) That solves the Christmas dinner issue.
But my fear - perhaps unwarranted, since last time they were so accomodating and didn't look for an invite in - is that by NOT inviting them in, they will think I am hiding something. And maybe I am - I do feel protective over my space, even though it doesn't entirely reflect me since I've only spent money on the kitchen table, the refrigerator and a set of shelves for the pantry, and everything else was given to me and fit in where it could. I have three desks in three different rooms! None of which have chairs with which to sit at. I don't want them to judge my ability to thrive based upon my living space, because it may not send the message that I have healed and recovered well enough for their standards. They already wonder what I'm doing in this small town... and even offered unsolicited this past month to move me some place else.
They are well meaning.
But they are giving me insomnia. And forcing me to write long rambling posts (because usually my posts are so short and pithy.. ;) ) Bleah...
(And why am I NOT surprised that I already have a label on the side for Insomnia..? Ah, my old friend... we spend too much time together..)
Friday, August 3, 2012
Insomnia & ADD Meds
What a wonderful couple... What a lovely dance you do...
The general choice of drug to treat ADD is a stimulant. Our brain chemistry is different - I've seen a map of my brain and there are distinctions (the specifics of which at 5:30 in the morning I can't recall clearly enough to articulate here) between the brain of an average person and the person with ADD (although these days, ADD is beginning to trend towards the norm, rather than something different).
So when you apply stimulants to folks with ADD, the general result is it calms them down. It makes it easier, then, to focus.
But still, it seems, they are stimulants. And still, it seems, they can affect your sleep patterns.
It can be a frustrating cycle trying, then, to adjust on the other end with sleep meds - at the moment I am not - and get the balance right.
Meds help. There is no quiestion about that. But they can also create problems as well as solve them. And even when I have been taking meds more regularly than I am at the moment, I have found that they still are not enough alone to overcome the restraints ADD places on my capabilities.
And I've tried all sorts of other things. Believe me.
Unfortunately, one of the best ways to work on overcoming ADD is with a partner. And, in case you haven't already figured it out from my earlier posts - or that tag over there on the right - I am single. And even when I had a partner, it was a huge burden on them to help me with this.
I don't know the answers. But I know I'm not the only one asking questions. My ADD posts - completely without promotion - have become my highest viewed posts. Which means this one will possibly be seen considerably.
Please, if you're on this journey, don't just be a bystander, be a contributor. I can use all of the help I can get. We all can.
Oh, and I could have used a couple more hours of sleep this night. If you have those in your back pocket, I'd like them please. Thank you.
The general choice of drug to treat ADD is a stimulant. Our brain chemistry is different - I've seen a map of my brain and there are distinctions (the specifics of which at 5:30 in the morning I can't recall clearly enough to articulate here) between the brain of an average person and the person with ADD (although these days, ADD is beginning to trend towards the norm, rather than something different).
So when you apply stimulants to folks with ADD, the general result is it calms them down. It makes it easier, then, to focus.
But still, it seems, they are stimulants. And still, it seems, they can affect your sleep patterns.
It can be a frustrating cycle trying, then, to adjust on the other end with sleep meds - at the moment I am not - and get the balance right.
Meds help. There is no quiestion about that. But they can also create problems as well as solve them. And even when I have been taking meds more regularly than I am at the moment, I have found that they still are not enough alone to overcome the restraints ADD places on my capabilities.
And I've tried all sorts of other things. Believe me.
Unfortunately, one of the best ways to work on overcoming ADD is with a partner. And, in case you haven't already figured it out from my earlier posts - or that tag over there on the right - I am single. And even when I had a partner, it was a huge burden on them to help me with this.
I don't know the answers. But I know I'm not the only one asking questions. My ADD posts - completely without promotion - have become my highest viewed posts. Which means this one will possibly be seen considerably.
Please, if you're on this journey, don't just be a bystander, be a contributor. I can use all of the help I can get. We all can.
Oh, and I could have used a couple more hours of sleep this night. If you have those in your back pocket, I'd like them please. Thank you.
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