People envy early risers. The ability to beat everyone else and get a head start on the day is one of those little wins for some of us productive nut-jobs.
Unfortunately, I just keep waking up earlier and earlier, and my brain is effervescent foam before dinner. Many days I have to take an afternoon nap which basically means I have the sleep schedule of an infant.
What’s the cause?
Grad school doesn’t help, but that doesn’t wake me up.
The inconsistent work schedule of a substitute teacher doesn’t help, but that’s not it either.
I don’t wake up anxious. I’m just there, hoping my eyes snapped open closer to my 5:50 am alarm. (It’s so endearing that I actually have an alarm. I’m so cute and pretentious.)
I wake up early whether I go to bed at 8 pm or 12:30 am.
For some reason, my brain feels I need to get going while the people in my timezone (and those ahead of me) are getting recharged in cozy beds. Albeit, I can be an over productive workhorse who is known to spout off quips like:
“Don’t tell me there are only 24 hours in a day!”
“If I’m still asleep at 7:00 am, don’t even try to wake me. Just get started on my funeral.”
My wake up range (depending on when I go to sleep) is between 2:30–4:30 in the morning. Of course, this pattern is more prominent in the winter.
I have no trouble going to sleep, but each wake up brings a curse that is confirmed when I decide to peer at those digital numbers that glow from my phone.
Melatonin is an odd supplement for me because too little, one gummy, does nothing, and doubling that dose puts my body in a rage with my subconscious ravenously busting through REM sleep to prove chemical influences are child’s play. Three gummies make me feel groggy as I then flip into a panic when I realize I woke up at 6:30 …
Like a regular schmuck.
While my husband experiences sweet deep slumber, I go into negotiation mode with my body when I wake up in my dark room.
I’m sure I’ll go back to sleep if I:
Rub my feet together.
Curl up into a ball.
Spoon my husband.
Pleasure myself.
Bunch up my pillow so it supports my neck.
Remove the comforter.
Add another blanket.
And my body always says, “Nope,” while I’m a sweaty, agitated, more-awake mess.
The results have been catastrophic: I miss Jeopardy. I sometimes skip out on dinner with my family. I can’t make it to after-work plans with friends. I do schoolwork at the last minute.
Because I can’t keep my eyes open.
I’m sure it will get better one day. Grad school will be over in a few months. I don’t plan to sub next school year. My life will solidify into a pattern.
I just hope a decent seven hours of sleep — at a normal bedtime and with no pre- or post-dinner naps — is on the horizon.
. . .
Desiree McCullough wrote this during the 4:00 hour while her house was quiet, and four others enjoyed sleep courtesy of brains that obeyed. This serves as a reminder that the last frontier is not a deep sea adventure or a faraway journey into space but the human mind. Find out more about her at desireemccullough.com or on Twitter.
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This post was previously published on Desiree McCullough’s blog.
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