. . . 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:

1. wake up
2. hate my brain for waking me up and not going back to sleep
3. hate myself in general, vigorously
4. dread the morning
5. fall asleep three minutes before my alarm goes off at 7, hit snooze repeatedly, make my kid and myself late
6. The next evening, be unable to fall asleep until midnight
7. Repeat

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:

1. No one pounded on the door, demanding things.
2. No one started the dishwasher.
3. I had enough time to shave, even
4. AND file my heels WHAAAAAAAT
5. 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