Posts Tagged ‘sleep’
Alarming Rise
In one of the many ways I feel lucky, it is my great pleasure to be able to awaken easily when it is time for my alarm to go off. For that matter, I also enjoy the good fortune of falling asleep relatively quickly, without any trouble at all. It was not always so.
During my years of greatest depression symptoms, sleep was problematic for me. Having that for comparison makes my current pattern of blessed slumber that much sweeter.
The radio alarm clock that I have at my bedside has been my companion for decades. It doesn’t get very much interaction from me, so it has grown a little persnickety about responding to button pushes. I fear that the years of dust it has endured have led to some hesitation of electronic connections.
Recently, I have experienced a recurring pattern of waking just before the time that would trigger the radio alarm to come on. One day last week, in exception to that rule, I snoozed a full 6-minutes past the alarm and decided the volume should probably come up a little bit to better get my attention.
I never tested that because the next two days I was up well before the alarm time. Since I am able to leave it off over the weekend, Sunday night I needed to reset everything. It balked over multiple attempts, but eventually I thought I had it.
Whatever song that was on when I tested it in the evening did not prove to be a good reference for the song that was on Monday morning at the appointed hour. Like usual, I had woken up before the alarm, but it being a Monday, I decided I should linger in comfort for the remaining time before the alarm.
It didn’t take me long to fall back asleep, and it didn’t take a second for me to startle awake to the volume of music that came on the short time later.
Oops.
Maybe it’s time to download a fancy newfangled app for my phone to gently increase an alarm until I wake up. I usually am charging the phone at my bedside every night anyway.
I don’t know if I could do that to the old Sony Dream Machine. It’s like family after all these years.
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Precious Sleep
I have been coming up short of sleep lately and I can feel everything suffering as a result. For one, it makes commuting for 2-hours a day a hazard of droopy eyed distracted driving. I’m too exhausted to think clearly, I’m getting grumpy, and my sugar cravings are defeating my best intentions of thwarting them.
It becomes a vicious circle of fatigue breeding fatigue. On Tuesday night I had hoped to get to bed promptly in the evening to allow time for a full 8-hours of slumber. Circumstances foiled that plan and I stayed up about 2-hours later than I planned. In and of itself, that would have been manageable, but then my keen mind and body betrayed me an hour before my alarm would have gone off Wednesday morning, leaving me wide awake, when that was the last thing I could afford to experience.
Precious sleep got lopped off on both ends of the cycle.
It hasn’t helped at all that our internet connection has been totally unstable of late, causing me to languish in the limbo of half-loaded pages and images in my quest to toss up another entry in the daily blog effort.
I have a plan to get back at the dang fickle connection. I’m writing a short post and getting it done fast, so I have more time to sleep. Wish me luck…
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This Happens
In the morning, our wake up call comes from Delilah. She sleeps in a crate beneath the spiral stairs in the main room. During my work week, when I leave the house in the early morning darkness, she regularly ignores me and stays quiet until around 7 or 7:30, if Cyndie is lucky.
It’s not exactly uncommon for Delilah to start getting vocal more than an hour earlier than desired. When it is way too early, I discovered that if one of us moves to the couch behind her crate and lays down to sleep, she will usually go back to sleep, too.
This morning was one of the occasions where it wasn’t so extremely early that it was still dark outside, but it was earlier than either of us wanted to wake up, after having stayed up a bit late last night because it was, after all, a Saturday. Cyndie, being less inclined toward sleeping on the couch for the dog, got up and let Delilah out of her crate. Then Cyndie came back to bed, hoping to get a few more minutes of shuteye before getting up for real.
That practice is based on the willingness of Delilah to calm down again after having just stretched out in expectation of starting her day. She puts her feet on the bed to check on me, she paces a bit and pants loudly. If we are lucky, she recognizes the situation and walks in a tight circle about 6 times and lays down to give us a little added slumber.
Then this happens… I realize that I have to pee.
Go figure. I am desperately trying to stay in my sleep mode, and the dog has just indicated she is willing to gift us with precious added time. I don’t have to go to work, I can sleep as long as possible, but my bladder is asking for relief.
Since I am tired, it is possible to override the body signals long enough to regain unconsciousness. It could be blissful, except for one thing. The body has its own intelligence, and it doesn’t give up without additional effort.
You know the drill. I was dreaming that it was time to leave and people were waiting for me, but before I could leave with them, I needed to use the bathroom. Actually, I think there were several bathrooms involved in this morning’s dream. Of course, a toilet couldn’t be found in any of them.
I dreamed I was peeing into something where I had mistakenly placed a kitchen utensil I had just used. Then I was peeing into a tub that had been placed where a toilet was supposed to be, but it turned out to be filled with plastic building block toys. In that case, the door was not latched and my niece’s young son wandered in, with her right behind. Soon she was commenting on my choice of receptacle.
It’s like being stuck in a labyrinth that has no end.
After Delilah decided we had enough extra time, she woke us again, interrupting my troubled sleep and freeing me from my self-inflicted imaginary dramas.
That was a relief for my mind which then, finally, allowed relief for my body.
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Early Attention
It may not be 4 a.m., but it always feels like it when Pequenita, our cat, decides she has had enough with our being asleep and tromps on us before daylight is visible, kneading and purring, as if being cute and sweet will offset the annoyance of unwanted attention at such an early hour.
She puts her face in mine and tries a few head butts to make sure I know she’s there, but I practice the art of remaining comatose to convey to her that my sleep is not to be interrupted. It is the kneading with those front claws that I am forced to react to if the covers don’t sufficiently cover my sensitive skin.
Some mornings she decides to settle back down and join me in continued slumber, unbeknownst to me since I was practicing being comatose, and I will suddenly fling her off the bed unintentionally when moments later I realize my bladder can’t wait until sunrise for relief.
I am surprised by the amount of abuse she tolerates from me, continuing to lay and sleep at my feet as I jostle her rudely while moving my legs in search of a position my body will accept as sleep-worthy at the beginning of the night. Maybe it is because she knows she will have her vengeance in the wee hours of the following morning.
It is not entirely unlike the relationship of a mother and her child, though it was not my original intention to write all that as a segue to get to acknowledgement of all mothers and their loving sacrifices on this Mother’s Day in the US. Yet, even the title I chose for today’s post, before starting the first paragraph, could be interpreted as an homage to that which all mothers give.
Our kids are grown and gone, but with our dog and cat, we have accomplished a way to feel as though we are still parenting infants, just ones that never grow up.
Happy Mother’s Day all you moms!
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Sleep
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early morning light
rattles gently against the window
asking to get inside
despite not needing permission
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darkness glides blithely away
until later that very same day
entirely unconcerned
there’s no alternative decision
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each fulfill their role on demand
for infinite weeks without end
and sleep just ignores the both of them
rolling right over because it can
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Good Rest
I was back at the day-job yesterday and it was like a day of rest. I didn’t have to do any shoveling. Wait, I need to clarify that: didn’t have to do any snow shoveling.
When I returned home in the afternoon, I received a message from Cyndie that she wanted to put the horses in the barn overnight because of the return of extremely cold temperatures, and before we moved them in we needed to clean out the stalls. I ended up having to do a little shoveling in there.
The horses have caught on to our routines nicely. They seem very fond of the opportunities to be inside when it gets really cold. We had taken their blankets off last week when it got nice for a few days, but they went back on last night, with no complaints from the horses. We may be spoiling them, but at least they seem to appreciate the care we provide.
I was so tired on Monday night, I fell right to sleep. When I awoke, it felt like I’d had a good night’s sleep. I squinted up at the time projected on the ceiling by the clock next to Cyndie and struggled to decipher what it read, since it was upside down. Did it show 5:11? No, it was actually 11:08. I had been asleep for only a half hour and upon waking I felt like I had slept the whole night through.
Now that is what I call a good rest. Luckily, I was able to fall right back to sleep, and picking up where I left off, I enjoyed a very sound night’s sleep.
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Cat Nap
When there is too much going on in life, it is not uncommon for people to drop something from their days that seems expendable… hours of sleep. Even though I know better, sleep is one thing I sacrifice all too often. Now that I have been spending significant hours on the highway in a commute to and from work, lack of sleep has become a scary hazard. That afternoon drive home has been a real struggle for me, more times than I care to admit.
Regular readers here will be able to recognize the times when I needed to cut short my time for writing, and post a quick picture or poem. I love to write, and will admit that it is too easy for me to borrow hours from the block meant for sleeping, to play on the keyboard, hunting for words.
The other day, in a pause between other commitments, I tried to do a little work on the laptop. I was probably composing a poem about slumber! I think Pequenita recognized I was doing more napping that typing, and decided to join me. How could I resist? Cyndie ran for her camera when she discovered this scene of my nodding off in front of the computer, and being kept warm by a napping partner.
What Routine?
I have taken a break from playing soccer for over a week and a half to give my sprained ankle time to heal. Yesterday, I noticed the ankle was feeling mostly pain-free and decided it should be ready to do a little running and kicking again.
When I sat for a short while last night, upon finishing a late dinner, after a very long and taxing day at work, I was overwhelmed with exhaustion. I could hardly keep my eyes open. So, my ankle feels ready to go, but the rest of me is too fatigued to give it the support it needs, especially in a return effort from injury. I elected to sleep the extra two hours and wait until Monday to start playing again.
It is amazing how much effort it takes to maintain the routine of staying fit. A little hitch in the program and it can be like climbing mountains to get back to my pre-injury regimen.
Meanwhile, each day that I delay beginning my cycling season, makes me feel more anxious about getting that passion re-started. Sometimes I wonder if I will remember how to ride a bike. I’m hoping it’s been more a function of the weather than my body’s readiness. A nice, calm, warm sunny day will do wonders for my motivation. It will be really helpful if that occurs on a Saturday or Sunday, too. The day-job is consuming a lot of the daylight hours, and most of my energy, lately.
I think I’ll just go back to remembering when I was a boy, and the oodles of free time I enjoyed, riding my bike for hours and hours of care-free fun. Wasn’t that a healthy routine? Too bad thinking about it doesn’t do anything to strengthen my legs and harden my butt to the pressure of that saddle.
I’m clinging to the wisdom that, once over that initial mountain, it is all smooth, pleasant sailing.
What routine? That routine!
Relative Something 