Ironical Me

"Irony: The use of words to convey the opposite of their literal meaning; a statement or situation where the meaning is contradicted by the appearance or presentation of the idea.

Situational irony involves an incongruity between what is expected or intended and what actually occurs." (About Grammar)

More than once in this space have I bemoaned my sleeping problems. Just over a week ago after endless nights of perhaps four to five hours of sleep, accompanied by long intervals of lying abed awake in vain hope, I decided to keep a Sleep Journal. I reasoned that I could at some point hold it in front of my doctor's eyes and that perhaps she would decided that I required (a) knockout drops; (b) a session at the sleep clinic. I mean to say that I was getting frustrated about it all.

Little did I know that I would soon be able to write here about irony with reference to that very same Sleep Journal.

You see, I haven't had a bad night of sleep since. My worst night saw me totalling about 6.5 hours, which ain't bad at all, and I have been able to claim almost 8 hours on several occasions. I've nodded off without difficulty and my intervals of wakefulness have been brief to barely existent on some nights.

Now that's irony: situational irony if you please.

But wait, there's more ...

You see, now that I am sleeping longer and deeper, I am finding myself more tired than I was previously. I am at pains to explain this but rather hope that my mind and body are trying valiantly to make up the sleep deficit that I must have accumulated and that I am not doomed to be tired all day until I begin to sleep less.

You catch the irony, didn't you? AC starts sleeping more but feels more tired.

What I'm really afraid of, however, is a third possible ironical twist, for wouldn't it be ironical that after posting about sleeping better if I were to revert as quickly as I verted? It wouldn't be at all funny, but it would be ironical.

Early Morning Ramblings

Speaking of magazines, as we were two posts ago, my daughter passes her Redbook mags onto Cuppa, who yesterday had one opened to an article about Ashley Judd. We were sitting in our little porch on a nice Saturday morning, sipping coffee and watching the garage-sale-addicts stroll by, so in my curious leisure, I picked it up and scanned a bit of the article. I don't know many celebs, but I have the seen Judds on tv, so I had at least some point of recognition with Ashley.

She's going to Harvard these days, getting her Masters Degree in I forget what discipline. Don't press me for details as I wasn't reading carefully, but she studies to give herself more background in the work that she does for children. I know that's vague, but I was just scanning. But then I stopped at a certain tidbit of information, which is all that I essentially grasped from the article. She claims to require ten and a half hours of sleep. At Harvard, she manages to obtain about nine and feels that she's on the edge of sleep deprivation: my words, but I think I've caught the essence.

Reading that caused me realize (not for the first time) that people tend to divide into two camps, at least at the extreme edges. Essentially, there are high energy and low energy people at the opposing ends of the continuum.

My curse is that I tend to be a low energy person. When I was working, I would prefer more than eight hours sleep to be anywhere near my best, with hopefully, a little extra on the weekend. I probably still require that much but don't manage to get it anymore: like this morning when I awoke at five o'clock. I generally wake up at five these mornings; sometimes I am able to roll over and get a few more precious but elusive zzzz's but not always and certainly not today.

As a low energy person, when I was teaching, I would have to control the number of extra curricular tasks and activities that I would take on. One learns to say no and concentrate on the essentials. Ryan Seacrest is, apparently, a high energy person as he flits from one gig to the next during a typical day and week. He claims to thrive on this lifestyle; it seems to energize that than enervate him. I think it's safe to say that he qualifies as a high energy person. People such as he can accomplish a lot.

I have a SIL like that. As a kid she would wake up early and even polish the family's shoes to keep herself occupied. Her parents gave up on trying to get her to sleep longer and allowed her to do her thing as long as she'd remain quiet.

It turns out that this was a rather important quality that she possessed because as a young mother of four girls, she found herself raising them on her own. As it turns out, she was not only able to raise her brood but was able to attend to university and obtain two masters degrees whilst doing so. I think it's safe to say that she was at the opposite end from Judd on the energy continuum. I think it's a gift that some people have, and it's certainly a good thing that my SIL did with the difficult row that she had to hoe. I and many others would have been in a heap, but the eve3idence reveals that she managed quite well.

My Cuppa seems to be a hybrid. She can be quite energetic in her tasks, but she has always required a decent amount of sleep. Some people, like me, seem to require, or at least must make do with, less sleep as we age, but Cuppa's metabolism has taken her in the opposite direction to the point where she now does best with ten hours repose. On a typical night, she'll go to bed before I do, and on the typical following morning, I'll be up first. I try to stealth around the house, sometimes for many hours, so she can get her beauty rest (which works btw). She opines that I get more living done, but I'm not sure that's true; she probably gets more done in her 14 hours than I do in my 18 hours.

The only place where I might have the edge is that I can get a blog composed while she reposes. It can be a rambling post with no conclusion to draw — like this one — but it's a post. Ain't it?

I wonder how you fit into the energy-sleep spectrum, and whether your patterns have alterred over the years?

A Night With AC

10:00pm: I'm weary, so I settle into my recliner; however, knowing that it's too early for me to fall asleep, I decided to tire myself by reading about 40 pages of The Real Eve before completing a Sudoku puzzle, which solved itself rather easily.

11:00pm: The Sudoku is done, and I wonder whether to try another, but I decide to turn out the lights and chill. I lie quietly and do my best to still my mind. I determine to stay relaxed even if it takes awhile to fall asleep, for I have heard that real rest is almost as beneficial as sleep. Mind you, I don't think I've ever heard an expert say this.

12:00am: I haven't really slept yet, but I think I might have dozed briefly. This thought encourages me, and I move myself to our shared bed. I stay relaxed but don't fall asleep although it is possible that I may nod off once or twice. It doesn't help that a Wiggles song has become a nagging earworm.

1:00am: Perhaps I will fall asleep in the guest bed where I have more room to stretch, so I move my body over there. My legs are very sore despite the fact that I have gone back on Celebrex lately, but I did have a vigorous session on the treadmill, and I may have overdone it. The Wiggles song (mercifully, I forget which now now) continues to play in my head, and I try to drown it out by internally singing Baby Beluga.

1:45am: It's not working, and although I try to remain calm I roll over to look at the clock.

2:20am: Hooray! I have been sleeping for 20 - 30 minutes, but now I am hotter than blazes. This occurs most nights; I don't usually sweat but my internal heat is ferocious. It is internal because our house is kept quite cool at night. Sometimes, I can find the right combination of clothing, blankets and restful position to overcome this heat problem: but not tonight.

3:00am: My body is still blasting heat, whether real or mental, I don't know. Despite the fact that I have purposed to lie peacefully for as long as it takes, I finally relent and get up to change the dynamics. Hopefully, puttering on the puter will cool me down and change my mindset.

3:30am: Sometimes, when nothing else works, I can find rest on the couch in the living room; I don't know why this works, but it often does. Tonight, however, this, my fourth resting spot of the night, doesn't work for me. I remain hot and uncomfortable, and my mind begins to compose this blog ... when it isn't humming a new earworm, Baby Beluga.

4:00am: A glimmer of hope: I know that I just thought of something good to include in this post but am unable to bring to mind what it was. This (being unable to reconstruct what I have just thought of) is always a good sign as is the fact that the clock has turned four. I often find that I undergo some sort of change around 4 o'clock, give or take a half hour or so. Maybe the magic hour will work tonight too.

4:10am: Back in the guest bed, I check the time and also notice that my internal furnace has shut itself off. Despite the fact my legs are still yelling at me, I know that I am ready to sleep.

6:50am: Less than three hours later, I wake up and change beds yet again to go snuggle with Cuppa while I try to get another few minutes sleep. I don't get those few minutes, perhaps because I am still listening to Baby Beluga sounding in my head. I wish I could actually sleep with the woman that I love, but I seldom manage to do that for very long any more. Would it help to have a king size bed, I wonder. But our expensive queen size bed is very comfy, still fairly new, and it would be an costly experiment to purchase a king size bed, probably to discover that it wouldn't help anyway.

10:00am: I finish this blog and note that I am am doing reasonably well despite the sleep deprivation. I decide to schedule this post to publish tomorrow morning (now this morning) since I have already posted once today. I continue to play Baby Beluga in my head, but not so much as previously. I determine to take a sleeping pill tonight although there's no guarantee that it will solve my problem; sometimes it helps a lot, and I suppose that it always helps at least a little.

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And that's how a night with AC may very likely transpire although I must admit that it usually isn't quite that bad.

My Morning Puzzle

Here it is, seven o'clock in the A.M., and I've completed the daily Sudoku in the morning paper. Whoda thunkit: not about completing the puzzle but doing so by 7:00?

I've never been a morning person. Certainly, the normal worker who is nighthawk by nature is forced to stumble out and about in a state of bewilderment at ungodly hours. (Or are they, in point of fact, the godly hours?) But once I retired and was able to fall into my own rhythms, I found myself staying up late and lying in a bit in the morning.

Oh, come on now. I wasn't all that bad; the lying in wasn't until noon, more like 9:00 or perhaps 10:00 in extreme cases. Although the larks among you might look askance at such sleeping in, I submit that the cause was not laziness as the wee hours would frequently find AC doing productive things. I mean to say that we owls never accuse the larks of being slothful when they retire at ridiculously early hours, so why the reverse? I can remember trying to learn the basics of Photoshop or html in those wee hours, for example when all good morning larks would be sound asleep, and it never occurred to me to think them lazy. Quite simply, my mind would frequently be humming along in great form in those after midnight hours, and it seemed wise to take advantage of it.

These days, however, although I endure nights of problematic sleep, I seldom find myself perking in those wee hours. Just last night, for example, I had to shut Dan Brown's latest wild romp through mystically symbolic adventures before midnight as my eyes were glueing beyond comfort. Sometimes, I'm now actually very tired in the evening, which was not the case just a few short years ago.

I can narrow much of the time frame of the change in waking and sleeping habits down to the past two years. When Nikki Dee was new, I would sometimes head over in the middle of the night to rock her and give Mom a few hours of rest. It wasn't all that onerous for me to do that, and the reward was great as I certainly bonded with the little tyke. However, when brother, Zach, came into this world just two years later, it was certainly fortuitous for all of us that he was a much better sleeper because Buppa no longer felt up to middle-of-the-night-rocking-sessions.

Why my switch suddenly flipped after all this time, I know not for sure, but I suspect it has to do with sleep issues. Frankly, the quality of my repose is now frequently not up to snuff, and I often find myself sleeping only on the surface. Whereas, not long ago I would, could and did stay up late, once I got to bed, I tended to sleep fairly well on most nights. Although I still enjoy some good sleeps, for the most part, it is no longer so. My best guess is that, usually, poor sleep on the previous night causes me to be tireder on the ensuing evening ... and so on in a circular pattern that is not altogether pleasing to me.

So, that's why it is noteworthy, to me and no one else, I'm sure (although I'm afflicting you with my ruminations regardless), that I completed a Sudoku by 7:00 AM this morn. It represents quite a sudden alteration in the pattern of my life. Although I find that it's not altogether disagreeable to rise and shine (or rise and puzzle as it were), please pardon this writer if he is not completely delirious with the cause of it all.

Here I Go Again

And so it begins ...

We're back home from a long weekend away at the cottage. We consumed our turkey, saw lots of autumn colour, and enjoyed our first snowfall. Actually, we didn't enjoy the actual fall because we were asleep at the time, but it was there greeting us in the morning. Now, I'm okay with snow; it has its place — but not on October 13th. No, not then.

We took life pretty easy over the weekend: watched season three of Dexter, all twelve episodes, and two movies: Benjamin Button and Revolutionary Road. My often faulty memory informs me that they were both hot movies last year, but my reviews are so-so. I'll go along with Rev Road, which was really well acted and well done IMO: my totally ill-informed and worthless opinion. It's outlook was rather bleak, or is that black, but it held me. However, B Button was weird for me. Perhaps, I had heard too many good things and expected too much, but I really found it draggy. And the premise was ridiculous.

Oh, I don't really mean the main premise of being born old and becoming younger until death takes Benjamin — mercifully ends — cue credits and turn the video player off. What I mean is that you can't have Bennie Boy being a little baby twice. If his life is to be the reverse of normal, he can't both begin it and end it as a baby, the first time old and the second time young. Somehow, he either has to enter the world large, or end it as a big baby. We're only babies once, blast it all, so they have to pick at which end it will be. Duh.

Dexter was great though. even season three kept me on edge. I keep cheering for that sweet, little serial killer and body dismemberer. I'm like that.

But I'm not really writing at almost one o'clock in the morning to either kill time (so to speak) or to review movies.

No, I'm here to moan, groan and generally complain like the pathetic person that I am. So help me Rhonda, I just want to sleep. Since I didn't get much last night and drove for hours today, it doesn't seem too much to ask, but alas ... the sweet and tender arms of Morpheus elude me. I have even been listening to that incredibly boring book, The Hour I First Believed. Sorry Wally, but it does go on, especially the aural version because one can't revert to speedily scanning the more tiresome parts — of which there are many. Whatever! As plodding as it gets, it doesn't put me to sleep. Not tonight anyway. Sigh.

Except for last night, however, I did sleep well enough at the cottage. I get no credit for that though because I took sleeping pills. They're not all that strong, but they help. But at home, I refuse to rely on them on a consistent basis ...

... so here I am ... whining and whinging to you ... in the wee hours.

Maybe I'll write a post about being thankful sometime. It seems like the proper thing to do after Thanksgiving weekend here in The Great White North. I do have a lot to be thankful for. I know that; I really do. I'm just not feeling it tonight though.

So, I'll just sit here and continue my Pity Party.

But I do have one question: why am I more cramped in our queen size bed at home than the double at the cottage? It's crazy, but I am. And it's not just down to sleeping pills either.

It's nuts I tell ya.

Aging and Sleeping ... Or Not

It seems that we notice changes around our decade birthdays. For many, eyes change around the age of forty. I know mine did; I had finally tried contact lenses with the prescription that I had used for several years. It was a short experiment because I found that I had trouble reading with them. You see, my eyes had alterred enough to require bifocals. A decade later, at fifty, give or take, I noticed my energy levels dropping. As a teacher, I'd sit at my desk in the evenings to mark papers or plan lessons, and it would be a slog.

Now that I am in my early sixties, I can report that another change is occurring and has been for several years now. Sleep. Or lack of it.

While I've often had trouble falling asleep, I usually hadn't had much difficulty in staying asleep. But in the past few years that has shifted. Depending on the night, I might go to bed at midnight, and I might even fall asleep soon after on some nights. But I now seem to be waking up fairly early (for me, in my historical context). I might awaken anywhere from about 5:30 to 7:30 in the morning but most likely about halfway between those two extremes. If I had fallen asleep around midnight, that's usually close to enough sleep for me — but only close and not quite enough. However, if my sleep gets truncated at both ends, say 1:30 to 5:30, it's not good. I require more sleep than that. But what I require and what I get can be very different. It can be quite frustrating.

At an almost identical age, getting enough sleep is also Cuppa's problem, but in her case it isn't lack of sleep. As her body changes, she requires more and more slumber. She seems to need and usually obtain about ten hours, and even then, she might feel completely drained by supper time. If she must remain perky in the evening for some reason, she will drink coffee in copious quantities and still fall blissfully asleep and remain that way for many, many blissful hours.

Oddly enough, she has typically been the more energetic person in this couple with more stamina than me. Yet here we are — with opposite sides of the same vexing problem. Neither of us can get enough sleep.

So, beware younguns; changes await. Unless you are of a very different constitution, I am almost willing to wager that you will notice at least some changes in the very areas that I have mentioned.

Sometimes, It's Hard Being Me

I am a strange duck. You see, I'm sick and up: up at 2:30 AM after hardly sleeping last night and being on babysitting duty most of the day and evening. On one hand I'm dead tired, and on the other I'm wired. How you can be both at the same time, I know not.

Most normal people sleep when they're sick. It's Nature's pathway to rejuvenation. At least that's what I have been told and what I have observed in other people. Our youngest, for example, had a great knack of sleeping it off. She'd feel poorly, have a long, long nap and bounce back as fresh as a daisy.

I remember once coming down with a very bad flu, and when the doctor said that I needed to rest and sleep, I told him then what I am am telling you now. He assured me that with the meds he was giving me, I'd be sure to sleep. Newsflash: the doctor was wrong!

Sigh. Sometimes, it's hard being me. But I'm going to go back to bed and try again.

At Last

Gloriosky! With the aid of a little pill, I slept for ten hours last night. It was a fairly good ten hours too, with fewer jaunts than normal to the loo. While I rejoice over the sleep, I am somewhat disappointed that I seem to require the assistance of a pill in order to enjoy some well earned, deep slumber.

I had slept very poorly, more poorly than usual, on the previous two nights. On the first, my mind was in racing state, and I would wake up with tunes careening through my head to the point where I was almost ready to bang my head against the nearest wall. On the next night, my body went into its let's make a fire routine. It happens a lot, but on that night the heat wouldn't quit, and I couldn't find comfort. I had clothes on and off, sheets on and off, and fans on and off — in three different rooms! — but couldn't find the right combination to alleviate my predicament. As a result whatever sleep I did manage to capture was quite fitful. It drives me crazy sometimes. I drive me crazy sometimes.

So, this little grampa was really tired yesterday — really, really tired — and although said little grampa dearly loves The Bonnie Wee One, days with her can be long and tedious. We are usually on the job for ten to twelve hours with much vigilance required and little time available for adult distraction such as reading a book or doing something creative. Although we may be seeming not to work hard at any given moment, it's a demanding and tiring job nonetheless. On top of that, we're not in our own place over there, and although Dee's house may be like a second home, it will always lack the genuine comfort factor of my real home, so it's harder to relax.

I say that by way of explanation rather than complaint, for I adore the kid. But long days after long nights do take their toll. Although I seldom sleep really well, when I have two extraordinarily poor nights in a row, followed by two normal, demanding days in a row, I pay the price. And so, I reach for a little pill.

Although I try not to resort to them frequently, these pills really help — on most nights anyway. I sleep longer and more soundly, but not usually as long or as sound as last night's whopping ten hours. I don't think I've slept that long for five years or more. It was nice, but I sure wish I could manage to have a really good snooze every and again sans artificial assistance.

PS ...

... when I wrote It's Not Easy Being Me earlier today, I neglected to mention a main point that I had wanted to raise, which is a problem that I sometimes have: getting carried away with thoughts that I forget my original intent — at least in part.

The new thought that has struck me is that some of my nighttime excursions into the realm of sleeplessness may be related to the napping that I referred to in the post below. I think what may happen when I go to bed for the night, sometimes at least, is that I doze off (as in a brief nap) for a certain length of time be it five, ten or twenty minutes. But on some occasions I do not fall deeply asleep and come to after the doze. And that doze might have the same effect as a nap — just enough to re-set my sail, so to speak. I don't know; it's just a new theory, but it sounds plausible to me.

I am thinking that I might doze lightly fairly often before falling more deeply into the arms of Morpheus, but every now and then, I experience sufficient rest to become quite wakeful if I happen to roll over and come to.

Well, as I said, it's a theory. Perhaps it will help me to become less frustrated to know that I've had some sleep, and I might feel more inclined to turn my head and hand to some sort of productive task.

Perhaps not.