Posted in sleep, Uncategorized

Follow Your Dreams. Go To Bed.

https://yadadarcyyada.com/2016/11/17/follow-your-dreams-go-to-bed/ I’m tired of being told to sleep. Even more tired of being told to sleep more. You’d think I sleep in a crib with bunny sheets, stuffies, and a Nightmare Before Christmas mobile for the amount I’m told to go to sleep. Everyone is telling me to sleep, wishing me a good night’s sleep, telling me all about the importance of sleep. Magazines and blog posts tell me to sleep. Books tell me to sleep. Family and friends tell me to sleep. TV tells me to sleep, even provides programs that attempt to bore me to sleep, nice try TV, still awake.

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I’m mocked by the benefits of sleep. I know that sleep is connected to the brain and it’s the most important organ, then again, look what’s telling me that, my left brain barely knows what my right brain is doing.

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Sleep promotes creativity, attention, apparently it helps heal, restore, keeps anxiety, depression, colds and other ailments at bay, and improves memory….Hmm, what were we talking about? Oh yes, sleep. It helps you lose weight, build muscle, stop inflammation. Doesn’t sleep sound amazing?

https://yadadarcyyada.com/2016/11/17/follow-your-dreams-go-to-bed/

I crave sleep, like it’s a plump juicy strawberry covered in rich chocolate nestled on fluffy clouds of whipped cream. I dream of sleep. I covet it. Sometimes sleep envy eats at me like a rat gnawing on cotton candy at a country fair.

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I worship sleep, who needs celebrities, I only want to imitate sleep, I want to be sleep. Hi sleep – I’m your #1 fan (and those aren’t pillows).

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I even snuggle with my bed, swaddling it with a decent thread count, soft blue sheets decorated with sheep, each with their own number, jumping over fences. My room is almost as dark as the bottom of the Mariana Trench, perhaps darker than the Batcave when Batman can’t find the light-switch.https://yadadarcyyada.com/2016/11/17/follow-your-dreams-go-to-bed/I slept during the first trimester of pregnancy, I’d do just about anything for sleep, but, ummm, well…

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Like many with Fibromyalgia https://yadadarcyyada.com/2013/08/31/fibromylagia-is-just-another-word-for-lazy/ https://yadadarcyyada.com/2013/08/08/fibromyalgia-is-a-four-letter-word/ I’ve tried: melatonin, serotonin, valerian, chamomile, progressive muscle relaxation, sleeping pills, tryptophan, alcohol, Tai Chi, yoga, meditation, alien cuddle exercises…

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sleep masks, abdominal breathing, cognitive behaviour therapy, kava, but no, my alpha waves are trouble makers. Is it any wonder I love the band R.E.M.? I’ve even thought of building a wall between my alpha waves and my delta waves and make the alpha waves pay for the wall. And now as an added bonus I’m playing that hot new game: blankets on, blankets off, blankets on, blankets off…what was the prize again?

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Insomnia has some benefits. I get exercise walking and I experience the, er, inspiration of public transit because I won’t drive when tired. I’ve also been organizing my home on the theory if I’m extremely organized I’ll sleep better. So far, no luck, but maybe obsessively organized people are just be too lazy to search for stuff. I wouldn’t want to be seen as lazy.

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I wish I could use the time to write or do something else productive, but alas, after a certain hour my mind is more or less mush.

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You can’t always get what you want, like sleep, but that doesn’t mean you just give up. You keep going, keep trying, keep reaching, whether it’s for a forty winks, a job, losing weight, climbing Mount Everest, seeking to right wrongs, swimming the English Channel, help others, being an author, scientist, artist, astronaut, singer, teacher, leader…

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I do have ambiguous feelings about a creepy Sandman sneaking into my room, or some strange Greek god invading my dreams, shudder, what form would he take on these days, no thanks, Morpheus. It’s not like I’m asking to be Rip Van Winkle or Sleeping Beauty, just less tired.

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Maybe I could think of my insomnia as a fascinating quirk, but all things considered, I’d rather be sleeping.

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Happy Thanksgiving to all those who celebrate (it should be every single day!) and remember, shopping is not the true meaning of being thankful…really.

https://yadadarcyyada.com/2016/11/17/follow-your-dreams-go-to-bed/

“Did you sleep well?”
“No, I made a couple of mistakes.”
~Steven Wright

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Posted in Blogs, Books, Canada, Cats, Chocolate, Family, Fibromyalgia, Food, Movies, Music, Uncategorized

There’s A Nap For That

1hate8As a writer I have to believe words have power. One of the words I dislike is hate (note I didn’t say I hated hate). It’s overused. People hate their life. Family. Weight. Home. Car. Cats (maybe they sense your hate). Government. Politicians. Job. Hair. Cake (you are so reading the wrong blog). Books. TV shows. Songs. Actors. Movies. Vegetables (how do you hate something plant-based?).

I’m tired of hearing people say they hate…I’m not sure they know what that word means. Hate should be reserved for really, really bad people and things, like: child abusers, rapists, murderers, Hitler, warlords, dictators, alien overlords, stuff like that.

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1. Let’s review, do you really hate your life or just certain aspects? Your whole life is a big category with many moving parts, pick the right part to hate, let the rest roll on.

2. Standing in the middle of a room silently or loudly screaming, “I hate my life” or “no No NOOOO!” repeatedly will probably make you feel slightly better for about 30 seconds, but it’s not a long-term ‘fix’.

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3. This is usually the point when advice-giver types tell you to change your life. That’s all well and good, but what if some things are beyond your ability to change? Should you just accept them, or rail against them, lay down and kick and scream until you feel better, or until someone offers you ice cream to stop, or threatens to call the authorities (and no ice cream)?

4. How much time do you spend each day ‘hating your life’, I suggest you cut that in half, help others with the other half, you’ll feel the hate drift away.

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5. Take a deep breath. This probably won’t help you hate your life less, but hopefully you might get a nice breath of fresh air, or the smell of fresh-baked goods.

6. Do something, maybe something different, or something to help someone else, again, may not make your life full of singing and woodland creatures doing your housework, but it might remind you of the good things.

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7. Take charge of your life, unless you wouldn’t feel comfortable having you in charge, after all, do you even remember where your keys, or the remote is right now?

8. Are you at least changing the things you hate about your life? You’d hate to get stuck in a rut of hating the same things for decades.

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9. Check your birth certificate. Are you old enough to hate your life? There are some weird laws out there, you don’t want to be breaking any.

10. Write down what you hate, maybe there’s a great book, or movie or TV show, song, etc. in all that hate. As much as people say they love positivity, so many popular shows, movies, books, plays, songs, etc. are about dysfunction, hate, crime, death, destruction, apocalyptic worlds, and misery, including Misery.

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Maybe the haters just need a nap. A nap always makes you feel better. I’ve been enjoying a tiny bit more sleep (even when awake) in the past week (new meds).

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Fibromyalgia and sleep don’t get along, but as much as I can hate the pain it inflicts on me 24/7, the constant  fatigue, feeling left out of life sometimes, there’s no point, it is what it is. I have a choice, I can choose hate and be all grumpypants, or I can choose love and keep enjoying what I have and hoping for better days ahead.

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If I said anything wonky during my blog party  https://yadadarcyyada.com/2016/01/29/always-on-my-mind-blog-party/ (still open by the way, drop by anytime and promote your blog, for free, yes, free  – we hear that word often, but it’s rarely true, in this case, it is) – I’ll blame it on the drugs (totally legal ones). Thanks to all those who came out. Happily, my bed and I are back on speaking terms, for now, and we didn’t even need sleep counseling.

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Haters gonna hate, so let’s bake them a cake…seriously, who can hate when eating cake?

Be brave. Be bold.
Choose love…and naps…and cake
(not necessarily in that order).

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Posted in Blogs, Canada, Family, Televison, Uncategorized

We’ll Be Counting Scars

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Doesn’t age have any advantages? I still don’t sleep well. Stars glistening, moon beaming, I think of bills, appointments, problems… I make lists, read, try to write (curse your inevitable betrayal writer’s block), and tried to simultaneously organize and turn off my thoughts.

It gives too much time for reflection. I ponder if my life would be easier if I had a hero. He can’t be just any hero; the term so loosely used nowadays. He’s gotta be strong…he’s gotta be sure… and he’s gotta be larger than life….my exhausted brain sighed, you’re just tossing and turning, with that Bonnie Tyler song in your head. I think of heroes as I slip into the arms of the sandman.

1hero18As a teen, I was a soap opera junkie. I couldn’t get enough of the endless tangled story lines, because like sands through the hourglass, so was that phase of my life.

I was breathless as Bo, a streetwise Hercules roared in on his motorcycle and saved Hope from a fate worst than death (really?). Her excessively cumbersome 80s wedding dress bunched up, arms around her hero, they rode off on his fiery steel steed, impossibly large 80s hair rarely moving in the wind.

Strangely, I didn’t find them nearly as amusing once I had some soap trials and tribulations myself.

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We love superheroes because we are them. We may not have the capes or gadgets or tights (ok, some have tights), but who hasn’t felt like they’re from another planet? Been of two minds? Felt like we could do more? Wanted to save people? To help? To do good? Felt guilty because we could have done more? Tried to prove ourselves? Wanted things back the way they were before something horrible happened?

Life gives us chances to be heroes or villains.1hero19

Chances for joy and loss.

Chances for creation and destruction.

Sometimes, scars are born, on the surface and others deep inside. Too often seen as disfigurements, as imperfection when they’re actually signs of resilience. So much is written in the scars. Never the same, but no longer bleeding, no longer open. Healed.

We can heal. We may never be exactly the same as we were.
We may never get back to our ‘old self’.
Things may never get back to ‘normal’.
There’s no time limit for healing, it takes as long as it takes. 1hero5

It doesn’t matter how many times we get knocked down and there’s no time limit on getting back up.

Hopefully, not destroying everything around us in the healing process.

So we rise again and again, getting and giving help along the way.

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