The Problem is . . .
September 23, 2011 § 7 Comments
I keep falling asleep.
I wake up at 6 every day. Go to bed at 11. This is perfect. Not too much, not too little. But for some reason, this week, I can’t stay awake, guys. No matter where I am.
Once I start doing something–like reading at my desk, researching in the library, looking up words in the OED–I start falling off. And when I wake up, I feel creepy because I didn’t know I was asleep–which is like, How did I think all that blurriness and distortion was reality and what does that say about myself?
A few days ago, I fell asleep sitting up in bed with my book open in my lap and my head fallen forward. Ryan rolled over and turned off the lamp, which startled me awake. It was 2:30am. How did I not catch myself? I couldn’t even remember the moment in which it changed–when I was no longer awake.
And then this morning, after unsuccessfully trying to finish my book in bed, I forced myself awake and ate an egg on toast (I eat this literally every day for breakfast). Then, feeling accomplished (because I ate really fast, of course), I sat upright in my big chair and began Housekeeping again for the tenth time this morning. I even love the book, that’s the thing I don’t get. I fell asleep three or four times before I finished–but I only had like ten pages left.
It’s no wonder why I get all this anxiety about how little I get done in so long of a time, so I write a blog post or something. I can write blog posts really fast.
Anyway. I’ve got all these plans. I feel inspired. I want to do big things because I can and believe in me and those around me and because life isn’t meant to be spent sleeping on the couch. I’m just trying hard not to let the falling asleep on accident get to me, even if it makes me feel so powerless, so not in control . . . .