unmowngrass (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
unmowngrass) wrote2021-10-28 02:38 am
unmowngrass) wrote2021-10-28 02:38 am
Entry tags:
LJIM+ wk1 -- There are things that drift away like our endless numbered days
I sleep a lot these days
My blood sugar gets low.
My iron levels do too.
I'm generally run down.
So half past five in the evening, especially if I've had a busy day, you'll find me passing into slumberland on the couch. Too short to stretch out but with loads of squashy cushions. Warm, most of the time. I get a pain in my neck because the arm of the couch is too high, and a pain in my hips from laying on my side, but nonetheless around half past eight I wake up from asleep to drowsy, to that sweet happy-languid state, wrapped in remembrances of soft, warm, tender dreams. And for a minute it's glorious.
.
I don't sleep well these days
Not enough water.
Not enough physical activity to tire me out.
Too much caffeine, too much screen time.
And putting off the loneliest moment of the day.
Even with my Prayer Songs playlist and my teddy bear.
So at two in the morning, or later -- I try not to let it be too much later -- I'm resigning myself to the need to get to bed. Uncomfortable mattress, lumpy pillows. Cold, usually, because the wall I cuddle into is exterior. I get a sore throat because (I think) I sleep with my mouth open. An ache in my bad vertebrae for sleeping facing the ceiling. And at half past eight in the morning -- or half past eleven, if I've nothing to get up for -- plus the 1-3 times I wake in the night -- you'll find me eyes heavy lidded but mind so alert, racing. Vigilantly checking about, haunted by the ghosts, by the echoes, the flashes of the bad dreams. And for a minute it's scary.
My blood sugar gets low.
My iron levels do too.
I'm generally run down.
So half past five in the evening, especially if I've had a busy day, you'll find me passing into slumberland on the couch. Too short to stretch out but with loads of squashy cushions. Warm, most of the time. I get a pain in my neck because the arm of the couch is too high, and a pain in my hips from laying on my side, but nonetheless around half past eight I wake up from asleep to drowsy, to that sweet happy-languid state, wrapped in remembrances of soft, warm, tender dreams. And for a minute it's glorious.
.
I don't sleep well these days
Not enough water.
Not enough physical activity to tire me out.
Too much caffeine, too much screen time.
And putting off the loneliest moment of the day.
Even with my Prayer Songs playlist and my teddy bear.
So at two in the morning, or later -- I try not to let it be too much later -- I'm resigning myself to the need to get to bed. Uncomfortable mattress, lumpy pillows. Cold, usually, because the wall I cuddle into is exterior. I get a sore throat because (I think) I sleep with my mouth open. An ache in my bad vertebrae for sleeping facing the ceiling. And at half past eight in the morning -- or half past eleven, if I've nothing to get up for -- plus the 1-3 times I wake in the night -- you'll find me eyes heavy lidded but mind so alert, racing. Vigilantly checking about, haunted by the ghosts, by the echoes, the flashes of the bad dreams. And for a minute it's scary.
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Even on sunny, quiet weekend days, where I have no reason necessarily to be awake in the middle of the afternoon, I'll force myself to not nap if I'm the mood for one because it seems like even a short half-hour nap will make it so I lose four hours of sleep that night.
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