Where exhaustion Rears its ugly Head

When exhaustion Rears its Ugly Head

I had another sleepless night.  Went to bed at around 11:15 or so and laid awake for over two hours without sleeping at all, totally wide awake, getting progressively more agitated until I had to get up--stayed up until after three and tried again--laid awake another hour and then drowsed off and on.  I had another of these nights (maybe worse) a few nights ago and some not that great nights between and today I am really tired.  I mean exhausted, yet again.  Just feel pretty rotten. 

I'm trying to continue to function and do stuff, and one of the things I was doing was attempting to copy some stuff out of Charlie Myers' books.  He's my painting teacher and I am supposed to give the books back tomorrow, but I've been busy with my homework for my poetry class and haven't had time.  My Canon scanner works as a color copier but it isn't readily accessible because there are piles of stuff in front of it.  This isn't a real problem when copying single sheets, but big heavy books won't stay down on the platen, so I have to stand awkwardly straddling the stuff and hold the books down and I was doing that when I got an out of paper notice.  Earlier, I had moved a pile of a stuff--projects in process from one spot to another--right on top of my paper supply, and suddenly, I was just too tired to deal with it all.  I couldn't stand moving the pile one more time. 

I HAVE to copy this stuff today and I have to do it NOW or soon because later, we have to take Elphie, my smallest camera, to the camera store on Woodward because it isn't working right--VERY SAD (it will be out of commission for a while being repaired)--and every other day, we have a conflict that prevents going to Woodward (it's a ways away!)--piano lessons, piano theory class, etc etc.  I have to pull myself together and get back to copying--he gave me multiple things to copy out of multiple books--I wish he'd give me ONE book at a time.  AK!

I need this information though, and I cannot afford to BUY all these books at once.

AND I don't like the poem I wrote and revised yesterday, so I want to write a NEW one (for my poetry class)--and we won't EVEN go into the other things that are piling up--I'm feeling overwhelmed.  I want to just go lie down, but it's sort of pointless, since then I will just lie there wide awake thinking of the things I have to hurry up and get done.

OK, get paper, load cartridge, go back to copying.  Sometime today, I have to walk.  I was GOING to walk to the store for a looseleaf binder into which I could put all these pages I am copying.  I also need to get food and . . .  oh wait, I wasn't going there.  OK.  Grumble grumble growl.  Just sitting here for a minute, long enough to write this, has made me feel a frog hair better.

At least I don't have real problems yet, like many people in the world do, unless you consider permanent brain damage from insomnia a problem.  Scientist now believe insomnia causes not only temporary confusion, but PERMANENT BRAIN DAMAGE!

My place at the dining room table at 3 AM

Today I made this digital painting from the sketch I drew last night
when I was insomniac at 3 AM. It took me all day to paint it, by
hand, not with filters, on my old computer using a MOUSE in PS7. (I
did use liquify to bend the brushes on the left to "match" the bed in
the water bottle on the right. I did not use either of my tablets or
pens, because I felt really terrible and wanted to do it the old
fashioned way, LOL! (slowly, slowly.))

The Insomniac Journals, 090215

The Insomnia Journals, 090215

Sleep is unexpected and delicious, limbs melting into the mattress,
melting into dreams, into the river of darkness and light. I went to
bed around 11:15, maybe, held my sleeping husband in my arms, then put
on my CPAP and happily drifted away.

About 12:15 or so, I awoke to knocking. PB at the door, apparently
without a key. I untangled myself from BB's arms and legs, from the
blankets, ran galumphing down the stairs in my nightie, but PB was
gone when I opened the door--I called and he came around from out
front and in, apologetic for forgetting his keys.

Upstairs in bed again, I am all clumsy arms and legs. The blankets
are tangled. BB wraps himself around me but feels awkward and heavy.
He's snoring raggedly in my ear. I can't get my breath. I'm hot.
The CPAP is sweaty and sticky on my face. I'm suddenly stiff and sore
again from my fall skiing earlier today. For an hour, I thrash about.
I think of things I could be doing instead of lying there doing
nothing. I get bored and restless, but I am tired. I'd rather sleep
than get up, but eventually, I can't take the restless boredom and get
up again.

The house is silent and dark. BB and PB are sleeping. And I am wide awake.

I want to eat. I consider doing negative space art. I cnsider the
books I brought back from art class that I need to view, copy and
return. I consider my poem. But the thing about being up in the
middle of the night is that I've already been up all day and I am
tired. I'd rather be sleeping.

I make this art piece on my tablet--I got the tablet for Christmas and
I think this is only the 4th or 5th picture I've made on it. Of
course, I'm not as pretty or as young as this.

Press here to make me cry (Impossible tasks)

I've been crying a lot this morning.

I just heard that someone I loved died.

Ruth Grenoble.

She was 88 and lived a long wonderful life, but I am still bereaved.
I wish she could have been with us even longer, healthy and happy.

I cried because I got a letter from another elderly friend, the one
who sent the clipping about Ruth's death. A nice letter.

I cried becase it is raining--HARD. And raining. And raining. And
wet and grey.

And I cried becase oif the impossible tasks--I seem to have a number of them.

One is the address change business for my numerous small stocks. Each
held somewhere where it is impossible to get someone on the phone or
get their website to work. They are threatening to take my stoocks
away becase of "abandonment!" And they won't leet me change my
address--it's been what 3-4 years and I've been trying and trying.
Calling and talking to customer service people who say they can't take
address changes on the phone as they have no way to verify I'm truly
who I say I am.

None of these stocks are wrth much, but they are mine. It's the
principle of the thing!

I was literally stewing about it when the mail came and ONE of the
stock companies, BNY Mellon, finally changed my address and sent me a
check for $23 from all the dividends I haven't received due to the
address change hassles. I know, not a lot of money, but hey! I'm
unemployed and every little bit helps!

I cried--in relief. I know, I know, I was crying earlier in
frustration becase it's literally been years.

And no, I am NOT having my period--I'm 62 years old and don't have
periods any more.

The stock thing is not over, there is more to go. The multiple others.

And then there is the house inspection thing. We need to get this
house in spected, the Rolandale House. But I called and called and
called and called and let the phone ring five minutes, ten minutes,
etc--no answer. Over and over. I was just settling down for another
long wait when someone picked up the phone and kindly andswered my
questions. When I hung up, I cried and dcried. It's not over yet.
It's only one of a long series of hurdles.

Why do things seem to be getting harder and harder?

I guess, in part, because I don't sleep at night. I'm tired and it
makes everythings seem harder and more stressful.

But bureacracies do seem to be much worse--it's so much harder to get
to talk to a real person. And the recordings and choices and menus
NEVER solve my problems! WHY?

And do I get a piece of chocolate or a glass of wine to soothe my
shattered nerves? NO! I can't.

But hey, I wrote two new poems last night and this morning. :-) :-D