On the first day of vacation, I was in bed and out like a light.
This makes sense as I was up early and had worked until midnight. Then I had the hour-plus ride home, and some relaxing with a word game then lights out.
For the past two nights, I have been going to bed later and later. This seemed like a marvelous thing to do. I was not rushing to bed as quickly as I could. I was working on projects, including grilling out ribs for dinner.
Then we have our evening walk with the dog, letting her sniff out visitors to the property.
She picked up the scent of the deer we saw strolling across the lower forty as we were getting our shoes on to go for the walk. Our beagle made a few puffs but then continued. She also missed the two rabbits that were in the grass near the lawnmower shed, near the tree line.
One ended up in the taller grass around my trailer, while the larger of the two watched us while blending in with the tongue of the trailer. Our dog wasn’t particularly interested in the rabbits, having set her sights on the compost pile near the garden.
As we headed up the hill, the rabbits meander out of their cover and began nibbling again.
Our dog, and I imagine the rabbits, too, do not have trouble falling asleep. In my case, the scholars say to get up, do something, anything for a while, and then go back to bed. Staying in bed when you are not sleepy, I am told, is rewarding yourself for bad behavior. Or something along those lines.
The vacation part of the day, even though it is a staycation, has been marvelous.
But the going to bed part of the day has been unsettling. It was after 11 PM last night when I headed to bed. By the time I turned the lights off, it was midnight. So, I’m thinking I can be up and at’em by 7:30 AM, 8 AM at the worst. Then the night drags on and on.
1: 30 AM comes and goes, with sleep eluding me.
3: OO AM rolls around and I am still not falling into slumber. I am tossing and turning, and now it feels like I could use the bathroom. But undeterred, I remain in bed, positive I can make my body fall asleep.
4: 57 AM rolls around and I am looking at the clock not believing I am awake and/or that it isn’t morning yet. It seems as if I have been in bed for eternity.
My bladder has a “come to Jesus meeting” with me and I get up and go into the bathroom.
Before heading back to bed, I wash my hands and avoid looking at myself in the mirror. I want to be asleep, not up and moving. My pooch has moved from the foot of my wife’s side of the bed and now has her head on my pillow. This is her MO.
Our Beagle won’t let on that she knows I am going into the bathroom.
She will lay quietly, not lifting her head or watching me leave the room. But she is alert and knows when to jump into action. She loves the warm spot I leave when I get out of bed. And nothing says she is more special than having her head on my pillow.
As I slide back into bed, around our beagle, she huffs once or twice and then gets up.
Moments later, she is scratching on the covers to make sure her sleeping arrangements are satisfactory. Then, boom. Her head goes down and minutes later she is fast asleep. Why can’t I do that? Heck, I would even scratch the sheets and spin around a few times if it would result in a deep night’s sleep.
6:30 AM arrives and light is filtering in around the edges of our blackout curtains.
I must have dozed off and on because, at that moment, I feel OK. But I know I need more sleep, or I tell myself I need it. Then I roll over and try to fall back to sleep. This exercise goes on until 8:50 AM this morning. At that point, I am wound like a top, and getting out of bed is a chore. There is no spring in my step as I head into the bathroom.
I take my 30 mg of Prozac with a cup of cold water and head to the kitchen.
Coffee is the next order of business, followed by putting the bird feeders out for the day. I notice I need to get the broom out, for I spilled some of the seed as I put the feeders in their crate last night. The hummingbird feeders are still full, so I just hang them at the end of the porch.
Then, coffee in hand, I step out onto the front porch and have a seat in one of the rocking chairs.
This is the first part of my daily self-care. Funny, until I began telling you about it, it was just a thing I did after getting up. Now, because of my readers, I have elevated it to self-care. And it really is relaxing, a getting the brain going experience. I see all kinds of birds, squirrels, the occasional rabbit, and deer wandering by, plus those wild foxes that live around the property.
All come to enjoy the morning.
I will bet all the woodland creatures got a good night’s sleep last night. But I cannot say that for myself. Now I don’t begrudge them a good night’s sleep. After all, most of their life spans are only a few years, and they do not have central air or a woodstove. But it is hard not to be a little jealous.
So now I am up and mostly awake.
I do have a list of things I want to accomplish today. Now that I am shrugging off the night’s lack of sleep, I am ready for the day. During the day, I am not yawning, so my body is getting what it needs, it would seem. But my mind sure thinks otherwise.
I need to add sleep to my list for tomorrow’s Psychiatrist appointment.
My concealed depression is written under the alias “Depression is not my boss.” I have certifications in SMART Recovery and am a Global Career Development Facilitator.
Diagnosed with Major Depressive Disorder last year, I am sharing what I learn. If you know someone who might benefit from reading this, please share.
I very much appreciate your comments.