- Train. Just because.
- My friend's daughters. They are true joy and I love being a part of their lives.
- Grape chia kombucha. Don't judge.
In addition to fibromyalgia (FM) and a recent diagnosis of chronic migraines, I also have insomnia. It's not chronic, even when it feels like it. My particular brand of insomnia is likely a co-morbid condition linked to the FM. I'm in pain, so I can't sleep. I don't sleep well, so I'm in pain. And so on. Most nights I can sleep. It's not the best sleep on the planet, but it's still sleep. Then there are nights like tonight.
I went to bed with Hubs at the regular time. Played a little Angry Birds Pop, read a little, then turned on the classical music and turned out the lights.
Hubs was snoring within five minutes. Me? Tossing. Turning. Closing my eyes. Doing relaxation breathing. Tossing some more. Then finally getting out of bed after ninety minutes of doing everything I could think of to will myself to sleep.
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| I wish I was sleeping like the dog. |
We have these lovely reclining Mission style chairs in the great room. It's pretty much the only good furniture we own. When I can't sleep and I don't want to stare at any type of screen (phone, tablet, computer, tv. You get the idea), I go to my reclining chair. I may bring a book. Or my journal. Or I may just converse with, well, whatever it is I figure I need to converse with. God. The characters in my head. Myself.
Tonight I had no desire to journal and I couldn't locate the fiction novel I just started reading, so I went with door number three and conversed with what felt like every self doubt I have ever had. Or rather, self doubt decided to talk to me. Loudly. In Surround Sound.
Yesterday, since it's now tomorrow, Twitter served up something very timely. Almost prophetic.
Jeri Ryan, of Star Trek: Voyager fame, posted the above on Twitter and Facebook as her Monday Mantra. I happened to see, thought, "Hells, yeah! Let's kick self doubt in the balls!" and went about the rest of my day. I didn't really think anything about self doubt, kicking it in said balls, or how to keep going. Then midnight comes. And goes. And I'm tired yet awake and frustrated because AWAKE! And that background noise that is made up of accusations and self doubt goes through an audio filter and the tracks clean up until I can hear with the clarity of Dolby Surround Sound all the accusations and doubts and fears. And I'm tired and vulnerable and start to argue. Even though my arguments are nonsensical because TIRED!
And then in frustration and resignation I turn on my phone to check I don't even know what. And there it is. Twitter. Open to Ms. Ryan's tweet. My respite from the crazy making.
And I kick that self doubt in the balls. Really fucking hard. I stand my ground. I remind myself of all the things I have going for me. All the affirmations anyone has ever shared with me. I open the email thread from 2008 when I was laid off from a job I kinda enjoyed working with people I really loved and admired and reread all the positive things they told me about me. And I drank it in like a fine wine. And I kicked that self doubt where it would hurt the most.
I am.
That's it. I. Am.
As long as I exist, there is the potential of doing better. Of overcoming. Of moving forward instead of backward. I. Am.
The commentary, it's background noise again. I remain awake, and am now staring at a screen writing this post and then potentially writing more on my WIP. Or I may try for a couple of hours sleep before I head out to breakfast and super fun time shopping with a friend.
Doesn't matter. I'll take being exhausted over being a puddle of self doubt and misery any day.
Photo by Kristina Kuncevich
