I wake
Hot, sweaty
I sleep
Tossing, turning
I wake
Cold, shivering
Nothing relieves
Because I have gone without
Tag: #insomnia
Lullaby and Good-Day
These early mornings are killing me. A Ritalin, more than half a liter of Soda Stream energy drink, and a cup of coffee (that’s right, I resorted to coffee–which I hate) and I’m still sleepy. I even managed to go back to sleep after my initial early a.m. kitteh-in-my-face wake up call.
If they keep up, it will help with my NaNoWriMo next month. I can type in the morning (imagine the crazy things I’ll write at nothing in the morning!) and again in the evening while my husband is in training for work, so I can hopefully get the word count in every day. 1667 words in a day doesn’t sound like much, but as any author knows there are some days when the words just don’t come.
As a “pantser” (someone who doesn’t really outline but instead just writes by the seat of their pants), I honestly don’t really much know where my story’s going. It’s just going…somewhere. I kind of have a general idea of where it’s going to end up, but I’m not certain. Oh, and I have no clue on the middle. That’s just up in the air. So there’s that.
Some people don’t go for that kind of writing, but it actually helped in my first novel. I had an entire chapter that was completely unplanned, but the character decided to show up at the end of the chapter before to “save the day.” I had no clue he was going to do that, but as I was finishing the book he just showed up and it was one of those light bulb moments where I was like “Of course, this is how this part is going to resolve! It makes perfect sense now.”
But now it’s off to get ready for the day job. Adios.
To dream or not to dream
I have decided that, entertaining though they may be at times, having ultra vivid dreams sucks.
There are some nights when I wake up from one of these dreams and I can’t go back to sleep. Not necessarily because said dream was a bad dream per se, but because the dream felt so real that it’s unnerving. I just don’t want to go back to sleep and experience that again.
Perhaps that’s part of the reason I feel so tired all the time. I don’t get proper rest even on a night when I sleep “well.” How can you feel rested when you’ve just lived an entire day in twenty minutes? The mere concept is exhausting.
Some people say you should write down your dreams and use them as story fodder, but who wants to read a story about going shopping for Christmas decorations after a half day at work? Sure, I could turn it into some kind of quirky tale where everything goes wrong. Or maybe an inspirational story.
Or maybe I need to go back to bed.
Reality check, table six
I give up.
Seriously. I can’t catch a break.
It has been months since I had a decent night’s sleep. Literally. Months. I hadn’t thought it was that bad, but then I realized that I’ve lowered my standard for a “decent” night’s sleep so far below any known bar that I was fooling myself on mornings when I thought I felt refreshed.
Last night was the last straw. I have to figure out what’s causing this (not counting Rory–I can’t blame the cat for all of it) and how to get it to stop. I just can’t tolerate the level of exhaustion that has built with all of this insomnia. I can’t focus on the things I need to do.
I can’t even concentrate on this post.
My latest drawing effort is shit. I have a nicely-drawn head that’s too big for the okayish body. I should be better than this.
Writing is just plain out. All I do is stare at the screen, which accomplishes nothing.
Guess I’m taking a nap right now.
Off Kilter
By the Gods, my sleep cycle is shot. I’m going to bed around 8pm every night, but either Rory or my own body wakes me up between 1-2am every morning. Sometimes it’s just Rory kneading on my throat that wakes me up, but sometimes I wake from some strange, vivid dream and I get so disturbed by it–regardless of the dream content–that I don’t want to go back to sleep.
It wouldn’t be so bad if it was temporary, but this has been going on for months. I just don’t sleep. On average (according to my FitBit), I’m getting 3-5 hours of sleep a day.
The 5 hour days are the ones where I take a nap at some point.
I can’t blame it all on Rory. I started having insomnia before we ever got him. But I can blame myself. I should be getting to a doctor; getting by with a Ritalin prescription and a couple energy drinks a day really isn’t any way to live. I’ve been trying to convince myself that I get more done in the mornings–sewing, drawing, writing, critiquing–but to be honest these are things I can get done after work. Sure, I make the excuse that if I don’t do them in the morning they won’t get done, because I’m less likely to do work of my own if my husband is awake and off work.
No idea why this is happening. Right now I’m fighting it with every breath, even though I know I should go back to sleep. As soon as I can find the time off from work, I need to get a doctor’s appointment.
The churning mind of a creative person
Are you a #creative type? #Artist #writer #musician? Then you probably know how I feel right now.
It is currently 3:20 in the morning where I’m at. I woke up an hour ago because I was hungry. I’m still up because my mind won’t let me sleep.
I’m thinking about the novel I’m writing, the stress of trying to promote the poetry book I mentioned in last night’s post, the short story submission I just sent in for an anthology yesterday, and finally I’m thinking about how I can’t sleep. The old paradox: the more you want to sleep, the more thinking about wanting to sleep keeps you up.
If I didn’t have a spouse sleeping peacefully next to me I’d probably write a little bit in my novel. I don’t want to wake him though, so I’ll just lie here until my mind quiets down. Which likely means until I have to get ready for work anyway.
To all those insomniac artists out there reading this, I sympathize. Do your best to channel your lack of sleep into the next great work of art, writing, or music.