On the heels of the last post comes a sleep issue.
My mind has felt like a siv these past few months and I know it's not just 'mommy stuff'. It is directly correlated to something called sleep deprivation.
I find, lately, that I need to go to bed and actually sleep when my daughter does (usually around 7/8/9, depending). If I do not, I cannot seem to properly function during the day.
It irritates me that I have to do this. It is not just that I 'Have' to-it is just a fact of life these days. It all goes back to the health issue again:I need the extra sleep so certain aspects of my health don't get out of control.
But, you know-I don't want to go to sleep at 8 p.m. I got stuff to do, dammit!! Even when my body says sleep, my mind is still going: I need to write, write, write!! Last night, I went to sleep with my daughter around 8:30, and the whole time I'm laying there, waiting to go to sleep, I have words turning in my head. I'm thinking: PICK UP A PEN! WRITE WHAT IS IN YOUR HEAD! I just couldn't: My body was firmly planted within the bed, already going into sleep mode, twitching involuntarily and everything.
I lose things this way-tidbits of prose, poetry lines I thought were the greatest fucking thing I have ever thought of, thinkgs i thought of to put on the 'to do list'.
It pisses me off. It didn't used to be this way-I could get by with less sleep back then. Granted, I was younger then. I now have a young child clamoring for my attention at all times and-I am getting older. Still, it pisses me off to lose things like that, to not be able to have enough energy to write.
I thought about carrying around a tape recorder to make little reminders to myself of prose and poetry bits and whatever else pops in my mind for future reference. It is an idea.
Sleep deprivation is such a sneaky thing. It is something that affects Mothers to no end.
I promise myself I will LISTEN to my body( and get a portable tape recorder), even if my mind is telling me to GET UP!, so I can feel halfway decent when I am awakened in the morning (6 a.m. these days) by my very own alarm clock, clawing at my chest.