Typical Nighttime Ritual

???????????????????????????????Bedtime: 9:30 p.m.  No drinky or smoky for me tonight, thank you very much.

Just get comfy; dear husband starts to snore.  I get up and move to the other room.  Wake up to use the bathroom in about an hour and a half.  Wake up a couple of hours later for the same reason.  Wake up shortly thereafter with the chatter in my head going full steam.  Here’s the first thought I heard last night, “Federal has primacy.”  WTF?

Deep breaths; calm down, go back to sleep.  Wake up again with the chatter going on and on about  . . . just stuff . . . doesn’t even make sense, just keeps yakking.

Deep breaths; calm down, go back to sleep.  Wake up because my shoulders, neck and upper back hurt like hell.  Change positions, take an Aleve.

Deep breaths; calm down, go back to sleep.  Wake up when I hear the neighbor’s truck start at 2:30 a.m.  It’s loud and it runs for 20 minutes before he leaves.  Asshole.

Deep breaths; calm down, go back to sleep.

It’s now around 4:30 a.m.  I am finally sound asleep, then the fucking alarm rings at 5:30.  Sigh . . .

No wonder I am an irritable bitch.


Noise: A Screed



Noise, I HATE you!

I hate the roar of planes overhead, the National Guard helicopters flying around and around in circles on their training flights, the small aircraft flying around and around in circles for the pilots’ little adrenalin thrill, the larger planes flying in and taking off.  I never knew when we bought the house 20+ years ago how bloody awful it would be to be under the flight paths of two different airports.  Try to sit outside and enjoy the birds and the wind in the trees, and the peace is ruined every few minutes — sometimes every minute for up to an hour — with the ROAR of a plane or helicopter or both at the same time.  It is what drove me inside to write this screed today.

I hate the chatty coworkers who just will not SHUT UP Two hours later they are still talking and laughing, I’m sitting in my cube with earplugs stuck in as far as they will go, resentment building to the point where I envision standing and screaming at the top of my lungs.  Instead, I remove myself to a small conference room, hook into the wireless, close the door, and relish the quiet and dark.  I get SO MUCH more work done.  When I get back to my cube, I can smile at the offending parties and not want to slap them upside their inconsiderate heads.

I hate the unending murmur of the television on from the time I come home until I go to bed.  If it were up to me, the damn thing would never be on, except during The Walking Dead, American Horror, Twelve Monkeys, or a really good apocalyptic movie.

I hate the overzealous screech of commercials and radio announcers.  I quit listening to the regular radio stations 30 years ago because of this.  Unfortunately, that means I’ve missed out on a lot of good music over this period.  I mute the commercials on the television when I do watch it, so the sound is on and off constantly.  Drives everyone around me nuts.  Drives me nuts.  No one wins.

When I’m especially sensitive, I hate the sound of my husband’s voice; his incessant and unending cheerfulness.  Not fair to him and I wouldn’t want him to change, so I grit my teeth and keep my damn mouth shut.

I hate the chatty Cathys on their phones on the train, as if they are the only people in the world and everything they have to say is so important, it can’t wait, has to be said now, because, by god, they are significant and busy people.

I hate the announcements on the train that bore into my head and make me wince in pain.  I’ve taken to wearing earplugs whenever I’m out in public.  I don’t have an iPhone or an iPod or an mp3 player; that would just be more noise.

I hate the incessant drone of traffic noise on the streets around me.  The only time it is quiet is around 3 a.m.

I hate the sound of my thoughts, the constant chatter in my mind.

An Introduction

Antelope squirrel sitting upright on a rock

This is me, my squirrelly mind, standing at nervous attention.

Ever have days where you feel like everything is blowing up, melting down, falling completely apart?  Welcome to my world.  Glad to meet you.

I have NO reason to feel this way.  I have a great job, money in the bank, a loving family, a home, enough to eat, enough of everything.  So why the craziness?  Why the anxiety?  Why the self-induced stress?  Irritability?  Low mood?  Hate every fucking thing?

I have been half-crazy ever since I hit puberty, an embarrassing number of years ago.  Tried therapy, tried self-care and self-medication.  Tried meditation and deep breathing to calm my squirrel mind (didn’t work).

The only thing that has worked temporarily is self-medication.  Beer and marijuana; cigarettes and food.  But even that is failing me now, some 40 years later . . .

So I started a blog . . . so I can vent . . . so I can be completely honest.  It won’t always be pretty, and some of it will be indefensible, but I need a place to put my thoughts, to hush the crazy person inside my head by getting out what she is constantly chattering on about.

Before I get any crazier.  Or perhaps I’m just indulging my crazy . . . or maybe I’m not crazy at all, just self-indulgent and narcissistic.  Or maybe I’ll end up in an institution . . . again . . . spent a good part of my youth in one, why not my late middle-age?

Enough already!  Got things to do.  Settle down, settle down, settle down.