. . . git gud!
One fun fact about me is that I dream about excrement nearly every night. I have to clean it up, or the toilet in a public place is overflowing, or it just starts leaking from the walls or something.
My brain is very literal: I spend nights cleaning up other people’s shit.
Possibly related: I have been regularly waking up at 3 or 4 am.
The routine goes like this:
- wake up
- hate my brain for waking me up and not going back to sleep
- hate myself in general, vigorously
- dread the morning
- fall asleep three minutes before my alarm goes off at 7, hit snooze repeatedly, make my kid and myself late
- The next evening, be unable to fall asleep until midnight
Are people counting? 3-4 hours of sleep a night.
I know a lot of women going through perimenopause have insomnia, and a lot of people with PTSD have insomnia, so double-whammy, I guess?
This morning, instead of lying there trying to sleep in an utterly futile fashion, I got up and took a very long shower where:
- No one pounded on the door, demanding things.
- No one started the dishwasher.
- I had enough time to shave, even
- AND file my heels WHAAAAAAAT
- After that, because I wasn’t stumbling frantically out of the shower and slapping on deodorant and hurling myself onto my bike, I MOISTURIZED.
Basically drenched my entire damn body in oil. Today I am not itchy all over for the first time since pretty much forever, and my skin looks awesome.
I am a gorgeous glowing goddess.
Tonight, I am putting the beginning of the cable-knit gauntlets I spoke of before next to my bed, with a reading light that hangs around my neck, and I am going to KNIT.
I am going to be so clean and well-dressed!
Photo: This is EXACTLY what I, and my bathroom, looked like this morning.
Photo by bruce mars from Pexels
That is definitely you but whose leg is that
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