Dear body

Dear body,

I know you have a mind of your own, but I need to get to sleep. You see, you and I have not been getting along well lately. How can I count the ways? There was the chipped tooth in my sleep. Yesterday it was weird pain in both of my shoulders when I woke up. Pray tell, what were we doing in the night? Never mind, I probably don’t want to know. Then there’s always the intermittent painful right leg that hampers me upon waking just about once a week. I think I know what that one is about, but, really, didn’t we already suffer enough when that actually took place live and in person?

So, how about we go to sleep, just normal boring sleep like a well-adjusted person? I know we’re not well-adjusted, but we can pretend for the night, can we? You see, here’s the thing, I like to be employed. It’s nice paying my bills, making rent, putting gas in my car, eating … I know, I can be so high maintenance. What can I say? I like the good life. But, in order to do these things I need to sleep RIGHT NOW. The bonus is that you get to do these awesome things with me. So, how about we turn out the lights, snuggle up with my stuffed Grinchy (I’m already in the holiday spirit!) and try to get some sleep? I’m game if you are.

In appreciation,

Beatriz (the inhabitant of said body)

Neurofeedback, Take Two

I woke up to the sound of workmen right outside my bedroom window at my apartment complex clattering away on whatever they were doing. It was jolting and triggering as all the racket made me all twitchy right out of the gate. I missed my appointment at the gym with my trainer because I was having trouble getting out of the dissociative state.

I hit the alarm at 8:40, and rushed out the door by 9:00 for the hour long drive to my neurofeedback appointment.

When I got to Doc’s office I was in a mood as I had a horrible headache from Tuesday’s session that took several hours to squash, and I drove an hour to this appointment in a less than ideal state of twitchiness. In short, I was in no mood for what seemed to be a waste of time.

I hate how when I open Doc’s door I am hit with a cold blast of air conditioning, along with a bevy of annoying door chimes announcing my arrival. It’s jarring to anyone, but especially me in my anxious state. It’s like a gust of sensory overload.

Doc then comes out, and waves his arms in that wildly expressive way of his, and says, “Come on in!”

He wants to know how I’m doing, and I tell him I’m not feeling great, as I didn’t sleep well. I also tell him about the headache.

It’ turns out that I should not have gone to acupuncture on the same day that I had neurofeedback. He had told me it was okay to go to acupuncture, but he did not realize I went to acupuncture for my PTSD. Apparently, both forms of therapy were too much for my brain, and that is likely why I had a headache.

Today I played EEG Chomper, which looked like a generic version of Pac-Man. Well, to be precise, my brainwaves played Chomper. I just watched. I am surprised at how hard it is for me to sit still for 30 minutes. It is very, very hard for me.

The good news is that I started at a 27 today, and got as low as a 5.5. Doc says I got lower faster than I did on Tuesday. Even though he annoys me at times, he is endearing. As soon as I was done he said, “Wow! Even better than last time!” It is sweet how he gets genuinely excited with good results. He is not a prim and proper doctor, which I appreciate. I’ve always preferred people who are a bit offbeat.

So far no headache today. I am so thankful for being pain-free today. I was actually humming at work, and singing along to music in the car. I almost don’t recognize myself. Doc did say that I will start to have different thoughts about myself, good thoughts. I can’t wait.

sleep monster

Naruto Sleeping

The whirlwind of the daily fight begins and ends with sleep. I find my body simultaneously fearing and needing sleep at night. The nightmares come that bring me that floaty feeling in the morning. Paradoxically, the floaty feeling pins me to the bed. Trying to extricate myself from bed is a daily fight, a struggle. It’s like this heavy weighted blanket has been placed on me, and the harder I try to shake it the more persistent it becomes in staying on me, and keeping me in that bed. At night I don’t want to get in that bed, and in the morning I can’t get out of it. Can we reverse this please?

(Photo credit: lyk3_0n3_tym3)