Every morning, I wake up exhausted. My husband consistently arises chipper, happy. Sometimes he even sings. Ugh, how disgusting. I stumble zombie-like out of bed. I walk blindly, my myopic eyes non-functional, eyelids half shut to prevent retinal damage from the morning rays. Gross. About once per year, I wake up feeling rested and I think, “So this is what it feels like!” And that fleeting, extraordinary moment in time is the one day each year that I am nice.
Scientific studies have shown that sleep deprivation causes fatigue, irritability, weight gain, loss of cognitive function, and even death. Well, NO WONDER this pudgy bitch can’t think straight. But, hallelujah, I’m still alive.
At least logging the terrors that suck away my energy and being able to shuttle my frustrations off into empty space within the vacuous webosphere makes me feel….more productive. Like there might be something of value that comes out each loathsome morning, even if the rest of the day I am a lethargic disaster. Sometimes I cling to that productivity. It’s a little sad, really.
My blogging involves dreams and sleep-related posts, as well as posts on infertility, drinking wine and other hobbies, marriage, parenting, teaching and life in general.
Leave me a comment so I know you stopped by! And, if you like what you see, pass along to others who might feel the same way.