My functional routine is shot to pieces, and this new, dysfunctional routine that has taken its place is pissing me off. I haven’t slept well for weeks, not since my baby started sleeping through the night.
At first, I didn’t sleep at night, at all. I would fall asleep around the time my family was getting up, and sleep through the afternoon. Now, I’m waking up a little earlier and falling asleep at reasonable hours, but waking up around 11:00 pm, falling asleep again at 6:00-ish. And waking up a little earlier in the afternoon. I can’t get anything done.
I don’t know what is happening with me, and that might be what feels most uncomfortable. I usually pinpoint the sources of my anxieties and ruthlessly cut through them, or at least make enough progress to stop the anxiety from interfering with my daily life. There was conflict with two different people who are close to me, and I had the difficult conversations. I opened my mind, and my heart, and it felt great. I was surprised, relieved.
I talked to my therapist.
I cut out any caffeine after 2pm.
I tried to have more of a bedtime routine.
I tried falling asleep with the baby.
I tried doing nothing, while laying there, awake. I tried reading. Then I tried reading. I tried reading less exciting books. I tried watching TV. Less exciting TV. Playing games on my phone or kindle. Boring games. I sometimes think it’s working, but then it turns out that it’s just 5:30 or 6:00 am, as usual.
I woke up around midnight. Tonight, again.
I should take Benadryl or something to help me sleep, but I am so tired, that I haven’t remembered to find some until it’s too late.
I am going to New York tomorrow, to read from my essay in The Good Mother Myth. I want so desperately to be well-rested. Maybe I’m anxious about that, tonight. I’m hoping that with the celebration and the excitement, I’ll finally sleep, in the bed that Nathan’s mother so sweetly keeps for us, in New York. Maybe the insomnia will shift away, and disappear, the way it arrived.