Sleep: the quest

I’m having trouble sleeping. It’s after 3am as I write this, and my brain just can’t sleep. This is the third night of this. What sleep I do get is “sticky”, meaning that once I finally get there, I tend to stay there much too long. It’s good that it’s winter break for the kids and they like to stay up late; I can count on at least 4 to 5 hours of sleep before they come downstairs wanting to blast the video games and Youtube, thus waking me up.

It’s not stress keeping me awake, I don’t think. I don’t feel stressed about anything I haven’t gotten answers about. What I think is keeping me awake is anxiety about what dreams I might be in for once I finally find my way into dreams.

I don’t know why I’m surprised; I always seem to dream more during the winter, and moving hasn’t stopped that. I don’t want any more of the kind of dreams I’ve been having just lately.

It’s late, though. LtGP will be getting up in less than an hour to get ready for work, and she wouldn’t like it if I’m still awake to see her off, with all her lights and everything on.

A quest for slumber, sticky sleep, and questionable dreams await. Goodnight, folks.


A little post

The Keeper of the Holograms called me Thursday. I was at the grocery store with LtGP, looking for ingredients for gumbo for Christmas dinner. She asked me if I was good, because she’d had a dream about me. Before I could ask her about the dream, though, a couple of my neices wanted to talk and so KotH gave them the phone.

I talked to the girls-one of them has lost her two front teeth, and the other wanted to tell me about how she almost did a handstand :)–and then KotH took the phone back. “Do you need anything?” she asked.

My first impulse was to say no. After all, I shouldn’t expect her to give me anything, especially now that I’m away from her. But she did ask me–and she might not ask me again. So I steeled myself and said that yes, I did need something.

It was so hard to tell her I needed something from her. Not that I really expect her to follow through, but the effort was made.

More short-circuiting

I think I might have a bit of PTSD.

This is not to slight or downgrade those who have actual, documented cases of it, however. PTSD is no laughing matter.

But I feel jumpy, all the time. I feel like I have to constantly watch myself, and do things perfectly or be punished. No, neither LtGP or CT have even hinted at the possibility. I know this is all in my head.

I find it hard to be at ease here, despite what LtGP and CT do. It’s not them; they’re great. They’re not hurting me, they’re not threatening me. I’ve been telling myself for weeks that I can relax, that nobody’s standing over me with the whip ready to crack if I don’t do something omgRIGHTNOW or don’t do it perfectly. Not working quite yet.

I’m not having flashbacks, but this emotional short-circuiting is not fun.

Mutinies and false alarms

This has really got to stop.

I’m sitting here, it’s 1:30 in the morning as I write this, and I’m terrified. My hands are shaking, my heart’s racing, I’m sweating.

There’s no emergency, no inturder; all’s quiet in the house. If there were a real emergency, I’d handle it better than this.

I’m sitting here having reactions because my friend (henceforth known to this blog as LtGP–Long-time Girl Pal)’s boyfriend (henceforth known here as CT–Conspiracy Theorist) apperently woke up to go to the bathroom upstairs. Yes, you heard me.

How do I know it was him? I’ve been here a month, and I’m getting good at recognizing the sound of their steps. CT’s are always heavy, kind of lumbering (which may not be precisely true–I’m aware that there may be more fear in that description than is called for). LtGP’s are not as heavy, and the kids–well, I know what kids sound like.

Anyway, I hear his steps, and my brain suddenly goes into fear mode. He wasn’t coming down the stairs, he probably wasn’t even thinking about me (any of us who wake up to make a beeline to the bathroom in the middle of the night are hardly thinking of who else might be awake), but instantly my brain decides that he’s coming for me right now, and I’d better be ready to hide or explain myself–and the explanation had better be a damn good one.

It’s like I left home and now my emotional/mental wiring has decided to short-circuit. How can I get myself together and start being in charge of my life with this wiring mutiny going on?

I say again: this has got to stop.



A lesson relearned

Today I learned the value of pride in accomplishment.

My friends’s oldest son is autistic. He’s not as bad as I’ve heard it can be, attends regular school with regular classes. He loves new people and has a vast knowledge of video and computer games.

He’s told me more than once that he’s always wanted to be able to cook a bowl of ramen noodles for himself, so that he won’t have to bother his parents or his sister, who normally would do it.  Today, when he got home from school, I showed him how to make ramen noodles.

I watched as he carefully measured the water, put it in the pot, turned the fire on and waited for it to boil. I gave him some basic kitchen safety tips (make sure to keep pot handles facing inside so they won’t easily be tipped over, don’t leave kitchen towels and the like on the stove, etc), and saw how concentrated he was.

When the water was boiled, he opened the noodle packet and put the brick o’noodles in. I told him later that he can take something heavy (I used the manual canopener) and whack the brick o’noodles into smaller pieces to help it cook more evenly. I watched as he stirred and stirred and watched the timer.

When he had a bowl of noodles in front of him, I said, “Congratulations, you have ramen that you made yourself.” He smiled the biggest smile and would have skipped around the kitchen if he hadn’t had a hot bowl of noodles in his hands. He went into the living room and told his younger brother, “Look! I made this, by myself!” Then he sat down and ate.

When his sister came home, he went right to her and said, “Guess what? I made ramen, all by myself!” She smiled and told him she was proud of him.

He’s bursting with pride right now. He’s so happy that he’s learned to do this. He plans to tell his mom when she comes home, and called his dad on his cell to tell him, too.

And me? Well, all I can do is smile and remember the first thing I had made by myself. It was a lemon cake, with chocolate icing. And yes, I smiled and capered and told everybody within earshot that I had made this thing, all by myself. 🙂 Seeing my friends’ son smile and be so very proud made me remember how important it is to be proud of the things we learn and the things we’ve done well.

He wants to learn to make scrambled eggs next. 🙂


I’ve been gone from the homeplace for a month–I still can’t believe it. It both is and is not what I expected.

It’s good since I’m away from them and the drama I can sense brewing (most of the fam is on my public Facebook page). Finally I’m out of the petty hatreds and the fakeness. It’s good because I don’t have to worry about them anymore. I  barely talk to them, and I know they think I hate them so completely now.

It’s not good because there’s other feeling popping up. I guess they were always there, but now that the major strain is gone, they’ve decided it’s free reign time.

I don’t feel miserable, but I wish I could have a long talk with somebody.