Tag Archives: personal

Adventures of Short Sleeping: I Sincerely Want This to Stay

Welcome back to my Short Sleep Cycle Adventures!

As of typing this it is almost 1700EST and I feel really good. Last night (this morning, I suppose) was my second night at a 4 hour sleep schedule and so far, it’s working great! The best thing that I’ve noticed so far is that everything feels like it’s slowed down for me. I’m not rushing to beat a clock and I am able to take on more work WHILE having more time to follow my hobbies, such as this blog.

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Super Human Powers? The Adventures of Short Sleeping

It’s no secret to people that know me that sleep and I are tentative acquaintances at the very best. Sleep and I don’t quite get along, she lets me hang out, but really just enough to get by. I’m tired of it, so I made an appointment to get myself into a sleep clinic.

For full disclosure, I’ve been diagnosed with clinical depression, slight anti-social disorder, and have had a history of alcohol abuse. All of these conditions are well managed and by all accounts I have an excellent life. I do work too much, but day-to-day stresses are not that big in my list of things to worry about. In fact, I don’t spend much time worrying about anything these days.

I do drink coffee and tea, but low to no caffeine. I probably drink 1 to 3 fully caffeinated drinks a day, if that. I don’t eat a lot of sugar, I don’t eat right before bed, I work out on a regular basis. I’m a healthy person by almost all standards.

I suppose that’s why my inability to sleep more than 2 hours at a time is starting to grate on me. I’m busy. If I honestly don’t need 8 hours of sleep and instead can do something else and spend more time awake and doing things, I’m going to do it. Here’s what my NORMAL sleep pattern looks like:

11:30pm Went to bed

1:00am Woke up – Showered, watch a video, had a pint of water, refilled water glass

2:40am Went to bed

2:53am Got up – Drank 1/3 pint of water

2:56am Went to bed

3:56am Woke up – Drank 1/3 pint of water

3:57am Went to bed

5:10am Woke up – Finished water, refilled water glass

5:20am Went to bed

7:00am Alarm woke up – reset alarm

7:10am Alarm woke up – reset alarm

7:20am Alarm Got up for the day – Had more water [Late to work]

When I discussed this with my sleep doctor, he was fairly quick to assess that I may have what’s known as Shorted Sleep Cycle. ″What’s that?″ I asked. ″It basically means that you only need 4 to 5 hours of sleep a night″ he replies.

″That’s a THING?″

I think that perhaps my enthusiasm shocked him. He nodded, however, and said ″it’s exceptionally rare, but yes, it’s a thing″.

Short Sleepers are people (about 1% of the general population) that function best on half of a regular sleep cycle. If I truly am a member of this mutant club, it means that I only need 4-5 hours of sleep a night. Getting more than that won’t hurt me, but I don’t need it. My body isn’t really having trouble falling asleep, it’s just not wanting to sleep that long.

This excites me! As I am typing this, I’m quite content at 1:30am. I feel like this may be a THING I can do! I got extra things done for my second job! I’m productive!! So, we’ll see if I actually sleep a full 4 hours straight, or if this is going to be a bust. Regardless, I’ll take you all along for the ride. See you guys tomorrow, where I will update what Short Sleeping really is, tell you about how I handled my first day on the 4 hour schedule, and talk a bit about my lack of jet-lag.

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I′m Not ″one of the Guys″

 

I′ve been debating this post for a while now, not because anything happened, just because I randomly think about it and then let it go. The whole ″one of the guys″ thing has bothered me for a while, for reasons I really couldn′t quite put into words. That was, until this morning after a conversation with my fiancée.

We′re discussing the future as all betrothed couples eventually do. She′s going to be graduating soon and is currently looking for work. I, on the other side of the coin, am established in a job. Thankfully for both of us, I could drop one job and make a passable living at writing OR she could perhaps work remotely. We′re going to make this work, we just have to figure out what parts of my puzzle fit properly with hers.

However, the idea of dropping my established job makes my chest seize up unexpectedly. It isn′t that I′m working in a gay-friendly environment. In truth the HR department turns up the professionalism to about 9000 when I mention partner benefits or my marriage. I′m in the closet because I am legitimately worried about losing my job over my sexuality. What I have found isn′t a place where the company itself is that worthwhile. Instead, I′ve found a team that I belong on.

I′m the only lady in the biomed shop as a technician. I′m a damn good technician and I work closely with everyone else on my team. They accept my pink hair, my tattoos, and well, like R said yesterday at E′s retirement lunch: ″We′re techs, everyone of us is quirky″.

It hit me with those words that I′m not one of the guys to them. I′m me. I′m Lily. To them, Lily isn′t the token girl or a dude. I′m a person. A person that they may not always understand or agree with, but a person just the same. This is the acceptance I′ve found in my friends and I′d much, MUCH rather be Lily than something I′m not. I′m not a guy.

I think that′s what bothered me all this time about that phrase. Being ″one of the guys″ often means hiding individuality. It requires, in part, sacrificing things that make you who you are in exchange for fitting the appropriate ″uniform″ of culture. This means that you′re not supposed to call out things that bother you, that you′re supposed to just accept certain things. I′m not going to do that anymore.

While I′m sure it′s made me abrasive to some, and certainly I know people dislike me. However, what it hasn′t lost me? Is real friends. Instead I have found that the people I love are still right alongside me. Because they are there for me, not for any role I play.

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Maybe it’s Never Really Over: a Relaxed Divorce

Ex called me a while back. I didn’t tell him that I was moving… I didn’t really think to.

I’ve passed the point where hearing his voice makes me roll in my gut. That hideous little snake of depression and anxiety that he always brought up has died. I can feel it rotting away sometimes when I think about how hard I tried to be straight and how it has obviously affected him. It’s his little slips that catch me biting my tongue, calling me “babe” out of that 15 year habit is one of them.

I can’t bring myself to be angry with him, not anymore. He’s screwed us both over in a multitude of ways, mine are mostly monetary aches that I just have to keep paying monthly till they fade away like my guilt snake.

I want to be angry with him. I want to ask why I lost all of my friends over this. I want to ask how it feels to be “right” because he’s the straight one. I want to be angry so badly but I don’t have it in me anymore. It feels like it would be easier to be angry than to admit that he’s never going to truly go away. The fact of the matter is that I’m always going to care for him. I’m always going to remember him. I am always going to hope the best for him.

But I don’t feel responsible for his future anymore. And you know what? I think that’s how it’s supposed to be.

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My Man Crush on Hugh Dancy

I haven’t posted in a while and I really do mean to make a more serious musing sooner or later, however, I have something silly on my mind and I really just needed a public place to put it. See, I have this giant level two man crush on Hugh Dancy. If you’re familiar with Jenna Marbles then you probably have heard her girl crush comments. If not, there are three levels of crushes.

No, look at him

Image from sugardarlingvintage.com

Level One: You want to hang out with this person and get coffee or something. Maybe just stare at them like a creeper. You wanna be near them.

Level Two: Where I am. You go to Creeper Level Two here and want to be them. Look at that guy, he’s fucking pretty. He’s really pretty. You kinda just want to look at him. And to be perfectly honest, is it really wrong that I sort of want to be Hugh Dancy? He’s attractive, rich, has a banging hot wife, what’s not to like? (He can actually keep Claire Danes, I come equipped with my own banging hot blonde ladyfriend.*)

Level Three: Not here, cause I’m gay. It’s Creeper Level 9000 and you know who you are.

I mean, quite obviously I’m never going to stalk him or anything like that, because that’s creepy and I wouldn’t REALLY want his life, I like mine and I probably couldn’t act my way out of a parking ticket. But there it is. I wouldn’t mind having his money, but I know how much actors WORK and I’m way too invested in laying on my floor for that nonsense.

 

 

 

*See,  Hugh, we have so much in common, we are both pretty with hot blonde ladies. Sure you dress better than I do and have about a hojillion more dollars than I do… but … TWO THINGS!

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A Man Who Makes You Smile

We’ve all heard this idea that’s been tossed around about marriage or hetero partnerships.  The most common “tip” for a long marriage is the man saying that he knows how to make her smile. Not “we can communicate openly” or “being honest” instead it sounds like all he has to do is placate his woman and she’ll shut up. Now, I don’t deny that smiling and being able to lift your partner’s spirits is important in a relationship. It is. However, when does it stop being about making her smile and start being OBLIGATING her to smile?

This was always a point of unease and contention when I was married. I would feel overwhelmed or upset and my ex would do or say something silly. It wouldn’t help the situation at all, and instead of trying to fix or talk about what upset me, he would then become hurt and say “I was trying to make you smile” or “I just wanted to hear you laugh”. In the end, the result was that he felt like he’d done his part to make me feel better without doing anything but make me feel guilty on top of overwhelmed. I don’t want to say that he never worked or tried to lessen my load, however he had this idea that if I just smiled everything would go away.

That’s not how life works. “We’ll find a way” or “just smile” doesn’t really -do- anything.  Smiling is all well and good, but it isn’t the only emotion that I’m allowed to have as a woman. I’m allowed to be annoyed, things that upset me are not imaginary and they deserve attention. By giving me this mandate to smile then ignore what is bothering me because someone else told me to just makes me feel ill inside. I don’t owe anyone a smile. I smile when I mean it. Obligating me to do that just invalidates my emotions in general for someone else’s benefit.

I can’t help but wonder, when I hear this canned advise tossed about, who else feels this way. How many other people smile in front of clenched teeth with nothing but the added stress of pleasing someone else on top of whatever was bothering them in the first place. For me, emotions in general are hard to genuinely show and have. The fact that I’ve been OBLIGATED to fake happy so much and for so long hasn’t helped me at all.  Here’s the thing about relationships, no one is always happy.

It’s one of the things that I really love about my current relationship. I don’t feel like I have to hold my emotions close to my chest and smile. If I’m upset I can say “This upsets me, here is why” if L is upset, she can say “I don’t like this, here is why”. We argue, we disagree, we set out plans to fix our problems. The “difficult” things are what you’re supposed to deal with in a relationship. It adds, for me, this huge security to the entity that is “us”. I know that nothing I can do would immediately push her away. I know that we can talk about problems and confront them. I am not living with the fear that if I’m not smiling enough she will walk away. The ability to discuss and communicate our problems is so much more important to me than being able to make her smile. Because now, when she smiles, I know she means it.

And when I smile, I do too.

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Year of the Protagonist: It’s all About Personal Style

Jack, a blogger friend of mine (You should check him out) brought up an interesting concept to me at the beginning of the year, and I’ve tried to take it to heart. “The Year of the Protagonist”; basically this year is about me. I’m not a hero, but this year, this moment, this time, it’s about me.

Since I finally found another apartment, I’m going through my things yet again. This place is considerably smaller again, but to be honest, that’s what I need. Purging is healthy, particularly when you’re sort of re-inventing yourself. My Ladyfriend calls it a second adolescence and in many ways, she’s correct. The things that I had from my straight life are not to all be thrown away, obviously, but they aren’t all to be kept, either.

This place has been an excellent transition for me, half the size of my house, nearly twice the size of my new place will be. There are a lot of things that I won’t need at all, like a carpet shampooer, for example, that I use a lot currently. I have tubs of clothes, an old desk… numerous things that I can just leave behind because I’m going into a 700sqft studio with a side kitchen.

In the unfinished portion of my basement I have a growing corner of “moving sale” items. My goal is to get everything moved in two days or so, then to have a giant “everything must go” moving sale. Whatever doesn’t go, I’ll just donate or abandon. That includes a vast amount of clothing.

I’m abysmal at dressing myself. A snug t-shirt and jeans along with my one pair of sneakers is it. I wear scrubs to work. And rarely wear more than PJs when I am home. I’m just… not high fashion or anything like that. I realize now that it makes me a bit unhappy to say that. So, from here on in, I’m embarking on a new style quest.

Pinterest is apparently Tumblr for grownups. So I’m going to use it to my styling advantage. I am not a twenty year old, anymore. I need to get a style that fits a woman of my age and professional standing. While still remembering that I’m a tattooed punk at heart. It’s a fun new adventure.

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