Every time I have started to lose my mind, there has been one constant:
Not. enough. sleep.
The first time I landed in the nuthouse, I was in the midst of a 3-month-long case of insomnia.
I just couldn’t sleep.
And that sent me into a tailspin.
The second time I landed in the nuthouse it was the same thing.
Exhaustion, brought on by insomnia, which led to all sorts of other crazy behaviors.
This most recent meltdown, where I (thanks to my friend Lara and her rounding up of the cavalry) just narrowly missed another stint in the nuthouse, was also mostly due to exhaustion.
But this time, it wasn’t insomnia.
I was just trying to do too much.
Trying to cram 36 hours into a 24 hour period.
Going to bed too late, and waking up too early.
But I thought I could get through it.
I thought I was strong enough.
I kept telling myself,
You are dealing with seven kids. You’ve done triathlons. You ran a marathon. If you can do all that, you can make it through this. Just keep pushing. You can do it for one more day.
And then, I snapped.
I knew better.
I know better.
One of my first therapists told me that sleep is the zamboni for your brain.
Somehow I deluded myself into thinking that it wouldn’t affect me.
But it was only a matter of time…
I’ve been going to this tabata class at the Y every Monday for the past few weeks.
It’s one of the only classes I go to.
I prefer to do my own thing workout-wise, but this class is an ass kicker, and I feel like I get a serious bang for my buck.
I don’t know if you remember, but about 4 weeks ago I wrote a post about the fucking bosu ball.
The FBB.
That bosu ball had my number.
I just could not do it.
I had never used it before, so that was part of the problem.
But I was also nearing the start of a nervous breakdown.
My body was shutting down.
And so was my brain.
There was very little sand left in the hourglass at that point.
Now I have gone to that class every Monday since it started.
I went the Monday before I seriously lost it, and the Monday after I seriously lost it.
The stuff you do in this tabata class changes every week, and the bosu ball hadn’t reared its ugly head again in the class since that first day.
Until today.
Before I get to that, let me rewind.
The week after Christmas I wrote this post called the Twelve Days of Christmas, and I talked about the gift I was going to give my husband.
Which was basically spending more time focusing on my marriage, and getting my ass back into the bed because I’ve been sleeping on the couch.
So the Twelve Days of Christmas lasted for more like twelve hours.
But like I said, the hourglass at that point only had a few grains of sand left in it, I was completely worn out, and I veered way off course.
So after the Twelve Days of Christmas came to a screeching halt and I lost the battle with the bosu ball,
the cavalry swooped in, and then I found the new therapist.
And her number one assignment for me was to get my butt back into the bed, and get some sleep.
For the past 5 nights, I have slept in the bed.
I have gotten at least 7 hours of sleep each night.
I’d say the zamboni has cleared off about half the rink so far.
I feel like a different person.
I still have some issues to deal with, but I feel semi-equipped to deal with them now.
Which brings me back to the bosu ball.
The FBB.
It was back in the tabata class today.
And that was where I started. With the bosu ball station.
I was next to a friend who had watched me struggle with that thing a few weeks earlier.
You can just turn it over so it’s a little easier, she said to me.
I looked at her, and then down at the FBB, and then back at her.
Fuck that, I said.
She gave me a little pointer, the instructor started her watch and said go, and I climbed on.
And guess what.
I did it.
And I did it pretty well.
And then, in the midst of it, I looked up.
There is a window that looks from the lobby into the gym.
I just happened to look up at that window. It was one of those times when you can feel that someone is watching you.
And so I looked up, and there was my other friend.
My friend who had so nimbly tackled the FBB next to me a few weeks earlier, looking into the gym through the window from the lobby.
The fact that she peered through that window at the exact time I was kicking some bosu ass was pretty serendipitous.
Had she come 3 minutes earlier, or 3 minutes later, I would have been doing something else.
But there she was watching me, and she was smiling, and she was giving me the thumbs up.
And I thought to myself,
I’m back.
And my friend doesn’t know it, but she witnessed that moment.
So last week I really started taking care of myself.
I started giving my body, and my brain, the rest they need.
And deserve.
And instead of the extra hours of sleep taking away from my ability to be productive, they are adding to it.
I kicked the bosu ball’s ass!
I compiled my first book!
And at 2:00 in the afternoon, I don’t feel like I’m going to die from exhaustion.
My marrriage is better.
My sex life is better.
I am better.
I’m not sure how I ended up getting myself so twisted around,
but it’s nice to have the zamboni up and running again.
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Jessica says
yay! 🙂
Deanna says
yay!
Sleep is coveted around my house just because of the hours I work. On a “normal” day I get about 4 hours…when the husband is home I recharge and sleep 8-10.
Irene C. says
You can’t underestimate sleep…it is how your brain rests. If you don’t take care of yourself, you can’t take care of anyone else. Keep sleeping Susie!
Alexis says
Susie – I hear you and I support you in every category of your posts. I have been a silent follower but and ardent one nonetheless.
Alexis – how many Alexis’ do you know?