Sleep anxieties?

For as long as I can remember, dating back to childhood, I’ve had this *particular* anxiety about falling asleep.  Scratch that.  What was once willful youthful resistance to ending my day, eventually morphed into a full-blown complex.  Don’t get me wrong; I love to sleep, in and of itself.  I’ve always been a lazy bastard that way.  It’s just that growing tired and weary-eyed has seemingly made others upset with me my whole life.  It always starts with the parents, and their insistence you go to bed right now.  “But I’m not tired”, I say.  “You’re falling asleep”, they counter.  “I’m thinking, and resting my eyes”, I insist.  Why did we never want to go to sleep?  Was it because we thought we were going to miss out on something?  

By the time I hit young adulthood, I no longer had to worry about my parents.  Hell, I didn’t have to worry about my roommates either.  They didn’t care if I passed out in the living room.  But keeping a job was very important.  Why didn’t the majority of my roommates at that age feel the same?  Why was I the one dragging myself to work early in the morning; every morning, every week, every month, and every year?  I’d had roommates at that age that couldn’t muster getting up at 9:00 in the morning, walk a mere 2 blocks, and start their 10:00a.m. shift.  Yet there I was, either hung over, exhausted, and/or sick; and I was still going to work.  Maybe the desire to get enough sleep wasn’t what defined me, but going to work was.  It’s what I did.  Just like back in high school.  Kids of this generation can’t even seem to skip on by without having to resort to getting their GED by the time they’re 25.  When I was a teenager, going to school was what you did.  You didn’t question it, you didn’t resist it (well, not much).  You just did it.  Don’t get me wrong; I wasn’t a dummy by any means.  I was (hope I still am!) fairly intelligent; but was one hell of a slacker.  Not much personal guidance, I guess.  Anyhow, it’s not that I looked forward to going to school; it’s just that going to school was my “job”.  It was expected of me.  In 4 years of high school (yes kids, high school was only intended to be NO MORE than 4 years!  Whoulda’ thunk it?), I missed only ONE (1) DAY.  That was my freshman year; and my mother MADE me stay home sick that day. 

Anyhow, back to my sleep “peculiarities”.  Eventually came marriage; and sure enough, the same pestering about staying up past your expected bedtime.  But if that wasn’t enough; eventually I developed severe sleep apnea.  When I say severe, I’m doing a major disservice to the term.  Quite frankly, I shake walls; and my body hasn’t reached deep sleep in perhaps 15-20 years.  Eventually I developed minor tremors; though I don’t know if it’s associated with such major loss of bodily rest.  Despite my chronic snoring, and my lack of bodily rest, my sleep anxieties didn’t really impact me during this period.  Married, raising kids; 14 years of family life.  My snoring?  It was the running joke in our family; fodder for the wife and kids to always crack wise with.  Isn’t that the way it’s supposed to be?  Ha-ha, dad snores. But after the marriage ended, it was time to re-enter the dating scene.  We were married long enough, to where I didn’t even so much as think about my snoring anymore; but I was soon to receive some reminders.  

It started off humorously enough.  “Wow.  I’ve never heard anything that loud in my life”.  This started the revolving door.  I had a girlfriend however that loved me so much, she resorted to drinking heavily, just so the snoring wouldn’t drive her over the edge.  Great.  Alcohol abuse, preferred over sleep deprivation.  After we eventually parted ways, this is when the *complex* kicked into high gear.  I went through a year-long period wherein I dated more women than can simply be imagined.  Bartendresses, cocktail waitresses, musicians; even roller derby girls.  In retrospect, they were all women from some sort of nighttime role; and this is where I started my campaign of existing on 2-3 hours of sleep (at most) every night.  You see, I was 43 by this period, and I was (perhaps) sub-consciously fearful that I was running out of time; so I stopped sleeping.  When I would meet somebody new, I was dreadfully fearful that my chronic snoring would out me as an undesirable; so I figured out a way to keep myself from falling asleep.  Scratch that; I didn’t figure it out, I was just plain old scared.  As soon as we’d hit the sack, I’d sit there wide-eyed, trying to resist.  Eventually, fatigue would take over; but as soon as I felt myself starting to breath heavy, I’d instantly jar myself awake again.  I did this, off and on, for over a year; some nights without a single wink of sleep.  But I was in the zone, whatever that is; I managed to work and function without sleep.   But now that I’m pushing 50, I find that I’m just getting tired a lot.  Perhaps it’s because of the dark winters up here, or perhaps because it’s just been a loathsomely depressing year; but I find still have that same anxiety about going to sleep.  Heck, even when I’m by myself, I’ll find that I won’t even take my boots off before lying down.  Now that’s just outright strange.

Dub’

Ward and June were not in love

How could they have been? They were just awesome room mates. I find that love is at its weakest when there's nothing to discuss about it; when it's all perceivably "smooth sailing". Love is high maintenance; passion and fury. Always an obstacle of some sort placed within the path. Never easy. From another's perspective, perhaps it could be argued that I've never truly loved at all. Don't get me wrong, I've had my share of love affairs. I've given what I consider to be my all. But was it enough? My current lover (this is our second go-round; a re-relationship) once told me long ago that love isn't enough. I think I understood what she was saying; and it certainly wasn't enough to sustain us the first time around. I find myself in love once more; but I fear it's still not enough. I'm usually the heavy one in a relationship; the analyst, so to speak. But now I've got my work cut out for me. She's the one prompted with questions; seeking constant insight. Never satisfied with just being satisfied. I've learned quite a lot since our initial relationship; and out of dire necessity, forged into a much stronger and resilient person. But these are all exterior things. I fear I'm still the same gob of goo on the inside. I hope I'm wrong. Whereas I'm much more accepting of the choices others make which effect me, am I capable of truly providing the kind of love which others expect of me? I have no problem whatsoever with passion, dedication, and admiration; but I feel like I'm missing something. Could it be that I've never truly learned to love myself enough first? I have no reason not to…
Love is like a 1000 piece jigsaw puzzle; and though I've spent what seems to be an eternity assembling the pieces, I fear I will find that my set only contains 999 when I'm done.

The Mongrel and the Vulture

Long ago, and far away, there lived an unadorned King. Though not a tyrant by any means, he still administered prevalently over a modest realm. In his castle also lived a somber Princess, who for years had been locked away in a tower in a faraway land. She was the apple of the King's eye, and he found much favor in her. So much so, that dominion over the kingdom was entrusted to her completely. She adorned the King and their castle, and lavished their treasury with gold. For years, they ruled mutually, and harmoniously. But like all good things, life in the kingdom, and especially the castle had become routinely commonplace. The somber Princess had grown listless; and had taken to once more locking herself away in a tower, on a far side of the castle. As it turns out, the Princess was actually an evil Ice Sorceress; and only through her magic dark crystals could her true hideousness be seen. What the King never knew, was the day that he rescued her long ago; she had immediately placed him under her dark spell. But the King, still deep within the spell, knew not the extent of the darkness which had enfolded him. One day, while staring out of her tower, the Princess gazed upon a lowly mongrel foraging outside the gates of the Kingdom. She found herself spellbound by the mongrel, and brought it into the castle to remain near her. The King however could not quite understand how it is the Princess would bring such a lowly mongrel into their kingdom; and found himself at odds with it. Instantaneously, the mongrel began to appear at the King's feet, at his table; waiting for even the faintest of scraps to fall to the floor. Though this annoyed the King, he considered the mongrel nothing more than a lowly pest; worth nothing more than a simple shooing away of. The Princess however soon began feeding the mongrel directly from the King's table; and to the utter amazement of the King, it was not long until the mongrel sat aside the Princess, and began eating directly from her hand. This infuriated the King, who would have no more of this; and spoke harshly to the Princess as to his disdain of the lowly mongrel tainting his table. This in turn infuriated the Princess, who in turn had materialized as the evil Ice Sorceress. Already under her spell, the King fell even further under it, and was transformed into a hideous vulture. But what the Sorceress did not know, was that she too had been placed under an evil spell; for immediately the mongrel had transformed himself into a sinister Dark Wizard. But the semi-circle of spells was now complete. The King, now a vulture, still beheld the beauty of his Princess; rather than the hideousness that was the Sorceress. The Sorceress, instead of beholding a careworn Wizard, instead was entranced by the image of a dark and handsome Knight. The Wizard, now acting as King, and in control of the castle, gained control and influence over the royal treasury; and was thus adorned in a fashion befitting a king. But he grew wary of the vulture, for it remained perched firmly on the shoulder of the Sorceress. The Wizard commanded the Sorceress to place the hapless vulture into a cage; whereupon she began feeding him carrion and scraps. Still ill at ease, the Wizard asked the Sorceress why it was she still felt the need to keep the vulture near. Under his dark spell, the Sorceress denied any desire to keep the vulture as a companion; and instead spoke ill of the hideous bird. "See how he waits in his cage for your scraps! We have no use for this vulture! You are the king, and it is you I serve!" She then took the vulture in his cage, and quickly threw him onto a mountainous garbage heap, far outside the walls of the kingdom. Upon her return, the Wizard seized upon the Sorceress, and immediately threw her into the deepest and darkest dungeon in the castle. The Sorceress tried in vain to transform back into the Princess; but it was too late; the Wizard's spell was much too strong; and shackles had been placed upon her for good. Her magic had lapsed. The vulture however, found that upon impact, the carelessly discarded cage had cracked. It took a while, but after pecking and pecking at the cracks within the cage door, it finally gave way; and the vulture stepped outside to find that he had become a falcon. He no longer had to settle for the prospect of carrion and scraps; and the skies above, and the horizon beyond, were now his kingdom.

Within the Splendor of the Ashen Void

Welcome to my little corner of the world; what has recently been described to me by an ex-lover as my "miserable, hopeless world". Though I don't necessarily agree with her as to that particular designation -she's biased, afterall; I don't entirely disagree with her either. You see, I live life similarly to most others; all according to a ceaseless pattern. Mine just revolves around ultimately surrounding myself with others; for afterall, who wants to be alone? I've been told that I constantly try to identify, and reinvent myself based upon the intimate relationships I ultimately formulate with others. I look at it another way. I'm pushing 50, and it's time to get on the bus. My destination - wherever that is - anxiously awaits. I really don't know if I have ample time to soley invest in myself anymore. Problem is, nothing has ever lasted. "Miserable" and "hopeless"? Perhaps; but hope continues to prevail, and lead the way. Anyhow, somewhere along the way, I developed an acute sense for detecting the absurd and the ironic which surrounds us in every day life. Though sometimes sadly pathetic, I still find humor buried within much of it. But sadly, this past year has worn a lot of the humorous veneer off my surface. I'm a little less patient; perhaps even a little less kinder. I find that I absolutely detest villainy in others now; and have considered crossing certain boundaries as to dealing with societal scourges. I've been the "good guy" my whole life; and have lived the majority of it in approval-seeking mode. Much less so now; though one simply can't erase 47 years of conditioning just like that. I'm not a bad guy; but I'm no hero either. I'm just an emotionally complex individual caught somewhere in between the dark, and light; in the penumbra of life. Within the shadows. Within the splendor of the ashen void. In the meantime, I still cling to hope as my refuge.
Anyhow, welcome to my blog. It is my intent to entertain, engage, and to exchange ideas.

Dub'