Fifteen hour days are not good for me. That is all the new information. An hour before bed to unwind is a sacred thing.

"Sacred" meaning "whole"

The Cat and I talk about *why* we stay up. It is chasing that productive peace after the busy day, that quiet garden where the mind sprouts.

 This level of fatigue on a night like tonight
It is like tipping back into a rich dark sinkhole
And falling, free and scared into sleep
Immersed in dreams in the river that runs under the world
I'm not sure what's doing it - habit perhaps? But I am definitely sleeping better. It may be a lowered level of work stress. And, of course, a fine and lovely relationship ;) 

This said, I'm getting to bed a lot later. I *haven't* been hitting the gym as much, although I've been biking hither and yon and, of course, doing stage fighting. But when I sleep, I tend to stay that way.
Showering before bed is good, but it can add an extra task when I should just close my eyes. Turning off the heat at night makes it a lot easier to sleep. Now I need to focus on getting to bed, ready to sleep *in time.*
This month's task: spend an hour before bed without bright lights, including screens.
Sleep journal - week 3
Sleep varies wildly. First waking up alot. Now sleeping like a brick* and waking up earlyTurning off the heat at night makes it easier to sleep - in part because the furnace is LOUD.

*One of those new "smart bricks" that needs to sleep at night.His mother agrees. *Were* that the case, I would be in the rig

Sleep blog

Jan. 12th, 2014 02:42 pm
 Sleep blog, week 1

Following up on my new-years resolutions. A pre-bed shower makes for a nice ritual, and it's a good time for skin care and relaxation, but it only gets me so far. If I've already showered during the day, it also consumes a lot of power and water.

Signs point to "deconstructing why I stay up late" and "avoiding screens for an hour before bed" as being strategies with a high likelihood of success.
Started taking a shower before bed. Feel a little grimy during the day, but I think I prefer it. Not sweating as much at night, likely due to wellbutrin.

Staying up late, even by half an hour is correlated with disruptive sleep, as is any amount of alcohol after 9:30pm. Cardio may or may not be a factor. Going to bed relaxed is a plus. It's hard to finish showing and then go to bed without finding a reason to look at a screen.
I'm not sure what to blame for this fatigue. Or credit it. You see, I don't mind this state of exhaustion.

It could be going back on hormones. Or rather androgen-blockers: upping their dose made me tired before, and now I'm going from zero to full in the matter of a week.

It could be jet lag.

It might be a delayed reaction to anesthesia.

It almost certainly has something to do with recovering from surgery. There are wound cavities in my head, measurable in square inches that are now knitting themselves back together.
Or it could be an end to my work. I walked into my old office and saw someone at my desk. It wasn't until a couple hours after that that I felt truly spent. I don't think this the main cause, so much as the trigger: I have the feeling that I was holding back on resting until I felt my job was done, which it now is.

It is good to take a break. follow up on the last post

Most of the other deaths in my life were expected The second death was my paternal grandmonther, who'd been fighting with cancer, and so her death was no surprise. I don't remember why my mom went to the funeral and not myself. My Paternal grandfather died suddenly, but I made the trip and saw his body. My maternal grandfather was obviously anticipating dying when I went to see him last.  My maternal grandmother, who died last spring, was the fifth human death. She was ill first. I went to see her knowing that she was dying. I got there, and she died the next morning, then I saw her again. Animal deaths too. Rags, my dog died suddenly and painfully, but I was there when it happened.

The exception to this is the first death: that of my father. He killed himself with car exhaust. I think it was in my grandparents garage. It know it was on Easter weekend in 1987. On Sunday, two men came to the door, I don't remember any more than that. I was told that he died. My mother was concerned that if I saw the body, my nightmares (which often shifted into walking night terrors, would worsen). I agreed: nightmares needed to be managed. So I didn't see his body.

As a consequence, twenty Fathers Days later, I will have dreams where he's still alive. Unlike the other dreams with dead relatives, I can't say "Waitaminute, I saw you on your way out." With my father, there's an explanation: he faked his death and ran off, or I'd been chronically misinformed. In my sleep, I have no evidence to contradict.

I guess this is one of the reasons why you might want to see the body.
It's been too long without a gender update.
Before I begin, I would like to say that I hope I can someday put "changed sex" on my resume. It's a job in itself; one involving a lot of research.

Ah, yes. This is where some of you may come in.

Hour of the Wolf

I thought naked apes went out in groups

in the day.

So, why are you up now, alone?

You heard her scratching outside.

You can feel her hungry eyes.

Is it your money she gnaws at?

Or is she tracking your love?

Or staring at that newly-found lump?

Or perhaps you're just shivering,

scented, someday prey.

You shouldn't be here,

but it's okay, we all are.

Welcome to this thing of ours,

a whisper club with a secret knock:

one minute, two minutes, three minutes, four.

Come here often?

Do you plan to stay?

You can, some, bitten, run with her,

live in this hour, to knock,

and do more than sit at doorsteps.

Soon the sun will come up

and the day will begin

but you'll still be here

unbaptized by sleep

a leftover from yesterday

You know it will end,

one way or the other.

Until then, you're here with us:

wading through your time

in the hour of the wolf.



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