This battle takes a downturn

My body is striking back.  I got it on a schedule, and got a few good nights of sleep, and it's still super annoyed with me, apparently.

Last night, I shot up in bed in a panic.  I looked at the clock.  My brain immediately saw what time it was and went, "OH MY GOSH IT'S 1:00 AM!!!  MY SHIFT IS STARTING RIGHT NOW!!!  I'M LATE FOR WORK!!!  I'M GONNA GET A TARDY AND MESS UP MY NUMBERS!!!"

So I jumped up, uttered some whispered expletive that was probably something along the lines of "holy robo-jump rope on a potato platter, batman" and went running for the bathroom.

I got into the hallway.

I stopped.

"What time is it?"

I walked out into the front room where my roommate was reading a book and looked at the clock.  I couldn't actually comprehend what the numbers were, but I could read that they were trying desperately to tell me that it was not time for work.

"Do I have to go to work now?" I asked (at least, I think I asked.  I might have come out, "Mfmmwr go mr work?"

My roommate understood the question, I assume, because I'm pretty sure she answered it.  I don't remember if she said, "Yeah" or "No," though.  Maybe I asked something else.  Hmmm...

Anyway, I cursed my stupid body and crawled back into bed, where I slept soundly.

Then I awoke with a flash of inspiration!!!  You know those moments of epiphany when you're sleeping?  You finally understand something you never knew before, and your whole world has shifted around you?  Yes, I had that moment.

I was only awake for a second, but in that second, I knew something.  One thing, one tiny piece of pure, life changing truth.

I laid there, and said to myself, "Yes.  Yes, that's just what I need to do.  In the morning, I am going to buy a hat rack.  That is just what my roommates all need."

This war with my body has gotten intense.  I definitely need some weapons and ammo upgrades.

War with Myself: Phase Two

Insomniac body: meet antihistamine.  It will knock you out for 4 hours at a time, providing deep, blessed slumber!  And, it's non habit forming, which means that as soon as I get used to my new 10:00 bed time, I can stop taking it, and you will still sleep like a narcaleptic at an economics convention.

Eat that.

Insomnia can go bite its own face.

I've been having trouble sleeping.  In my whole life, the earliest I have voluntarily woken up consistently (not including the times I was racing Clarke to Mommy and Daddy's room to get the premier cuddling position that did not involve almost falling off the bed) was around 7:30.  It was supposed to be 7:00, but I have become a master of speed-dressing.  I could make it from bed to the bus in around 10 minutes, being completely dressed, fed, and have all my school stuff ready.

Now I start work at 7:00.  Between drive time, the fact that I now brush my hair, and everything else, I have to wake up no later than 6:00 am (which roughly translates to 6:22). 

My body does not like this.

In fact, it has instituted a policy of hostile revolution.

"Think you can wake me up every morning at 6:00 am?" it asks, passing me a dark glare.  "I guess that means you just don't want sleep.  Fine.  I'll do exactly what you ask, oh master brain that sets the alarm for such a sadistic hour.  If you don't want sleep, then that's just what I'll do: not sleep."

So, night time comes.  I approach my alarm clock.  I turn it on.  6:00 am, here I come.  I crawl into bed, kick my covers around until I have an adequate number of them piled on top of me, let out a contented sigh, and close my eyes.

Then I roll over.

Then I listen to the girls on the other side of the wall giggling and screaching in really piercing voices and a language that I'm pretty sure isn't English.  I think I heard they were French, but it sounds more like a cross between Munchkin and Pig Latin.

Then I put in headphones and try to fall asleep to the soothing sounds of Vienna Teng, with the occassional Breaking Benjamin anthem spattered in there.

Then I realize that listening to music - previously a surefire way of lulling myself to sleep - hasn't worked and my ear has gone numb from laying on an earbud.  So I take them out.

The girls are screaching again.  It's MIDNIGHT!!!!  Don't they ever go to sleep??? 

Bruno Mars starts playing through the wall.  I hate Bruno Mars.

My roommate rolls over and lets out a moan.  The adjacent apartment is keeping her awake too.

That's it.  I officially have permission from the forces of the universe.  This action is not for me.  It's for my poor roommate. 

I knock on the wall.

The screaching stops, being replaced by whispers so loud I can still hear them... but at least whispers are easier to tune out.  Bruno Mars, whose volume has only been reduced by a single decibal, is not.

I realize my arm is the one part of my existence that has fallen asleep and roll over, checking the clock while I go.  If the rest of me falls asleep at that very moment, I will get roughly 5 hours and 12 minutes of sleep.  Not enough to be alert all day at work.  I really don't want to have to resort to an energy drink, but it's a comfort to know that if I become desperate, I have that option stashed in the bottom drawer of my desk.

The screaching starts again.

HOLY CRAP! THOSE GIRLS WERE ONLY QUIET FOR 30 SECONDS!!!

The night continues.  The screachers go to bed eventually, and I start to drift off.

I shoot up in bed.  WHAT TIME IS IT?  Oh.  2:17 am.  I slept for about an hour.  I close my eyes and will myself to fall asleep again.  It takes a couple minutes, but eventually I realize I'm checking the clock and it's been another hour.

Then it's just after 4:00.  I only have 2 more hours to get any substantial sleep.

Then it's 4:52.  I have an hour and 8 minutes.

I start to get nervous.  If I fall asleep - fall into a deep sleep - right now, my alarm will go off in an hour, and chances are I'll be sleeping so deeply that I'll miss the alarm.

Then it's 4:53.

I roll over, determined not to look at the clock, to savor and preserve this last precious hour of sleep. 

It's been a while, and I still haven't gotten back to sleep.  The clock (yes, I peeked) tells me I have 17 minutes left before that alarm goes off.

I closed my eyes, resigned that I'm not getting back to sleep.

My rebellious body chuckles inside.

I fall asleep.

My alarm goes off.

As far as I know, I have not yet sworn at my alarm clock, though an untelligible jumble of words has drooled out of my mouth as I stumble to stop that obnoxious beeping before I wake my roommate beyond redemption.

So, it's official.

Dear body,
This is war.

The world keeps turning.

You know that kid... the one who pitched a fit because he didn't want to go to bed?  So you let him sit in his room screaming for a few minutes.  Then something made you go in and get him.  It might have been, "Oh man... I'm gonna be in SO much trouble when his parents come home."  Or maybe it was, "Must be strict.  Must be strict.  Must not give in.  Must not.... OH THAT POOR LITTLE GUY!!!!"  That last one was me.  I tried to be a strong babysitter who did not give in to tantrums.  Heh.  Right.

You know that kid... the one who used to scream at roughly the pitch of a dying violin when you jumped out from behind the kitchen wall and roared at him?  The one whose little feet would pound their way across the floor as he tried desperately to escape, laughing so hard he could barely breathe, much less run successfully.

You know that kid... the one who would snuggle up in your arms and explain what each and every one of his Pokémon cards was about because talking about Pokémon was FAR better than going to bed?

Yeah, that kid.

He's in high school now. 

And he's a total hottie.  He sings.  He's got huge, buft muscles.  He has gorgeous, heart-breaker eyes.

And you're left sitting there, going, "But... but... what about Pokémon?"

Awkward...

Sometimes, people post something on facebook.  Then they "like" their own post.

And nobody else likes it.

Awkward.

Yeah, well, your face is ADHD!

My brother has decided he has ADHD.

I'm not sure where this came from.  I mean, it's not like he spent his childhood tying blankets around his neck and zooming through the house singing his own theme music or anything.

Oh wait...

Anyway, a year or two ago, one of his best buddies at work got diagnosed with ADHD and got on some medication for it.  Clarke bowed to the peer pressure, and he wanted to be ADHD too!  I remember him driving me down the street (pretty sure he was picking me up so I could babysit his kid... so he could go with his wife on a - squirrel!) and he told me about taking an "ADHD survey."  He answered them all correctly!  Wow!  He passed the survey!  Now he's got a big blue ribbon declaring himself to have a personality disorder that usually gives small children an excuse to make shameless fun of their teachers and disrupt class and get away with it. 

And then we wonder why this disorder has appeal?

Anyway, this Christmas, Clarke and my mom were discussing how impossible it was to sit still during church, and now my mom has ADHD too!

I was feeling a little left out.  I mean, nobody ever diagnosed ME with ADHD.  Why do Clarke and my mom get to have it and I don't?

So, tonight we were doing a big puzzle.  It's kind of a Christmas/New Year's tradition in our family to get a puzzle with about 137,000 pieces, and have all of us crowd around a table that only fits half of the people whose hands are going into the puzzle pieces.  We then argue over who gets to do the edge pieces, and eventually settle into all of us doing edges, and then each taking a specific part of the puzzle.  We do not, under any circumstances, encroach onto each other's territory, or we might face such horrible comments as, "Hey... where did my duck's butt go?" 

Clarke decided he didn't want to take part in the puzzle.  He's too ADHD for that.  Instead he read us Canada's summary of US Politics 2011.

I was focusing on the flowers, and after attaching my glob of pieces to the edges, I decided I needed a break.  I got up, announced, "Alright, I'm taking a break."  And then, just because part of me kinda wanted to be ADHD too, I added, "My attention span just went, 'zzzzzzzp!'"

Clarke perked up and said, "That's why I don't like puzzles!  Because as soon as I sit down my attention span goes, 'zzzzzzzp!'"

Grmf mrmp bgrmp.  <- (grumble noise).  I suddenly wanted to stop and say, "Yeah, well, I trained myself to be able to sit through puzzles, because my natural attention span is really small."

Honestly, I've been doing puzzles since I was a kid, and I've always loved it.  And who says not liking jigsaw puzzles is a sign of ADHD anyway?

So, I very maturely ignored his obvious attempt to assert himself as being more ADHD than me, and went into the kitchen for a snack.  I cut the banana bread, started looking for the butter, and went, "Ooh!  I could blog!"

So I sat down and started writing this, leaving my banana bread somewhere in the kitchen... I don't really know where.

But, of course, Clarke had to come in and read me a picture book about a malfunctioning robot who says, "Beep bop!"  And he read the story at about 1,000 mph while wearing giant, plastic safety goggles.

Alright.  I give up.  Clarke, you can be the ADHD one.  I know you probably didn't realize it was a competition, but I'll just sit here and eat my banana bread (thanks for buttering it for me!) while you read Dr. Seuss to the rest of the family.

Hey look, I finished the post.  In one sitting.  I guess... **sigh** ... that I'm not ADHD after all.