It’s so nice.

And honestly, BORING as hell.

How do people LIVE like this? My idea of a wild night lately is switching my tea from chamomile to a new vanilla Sleepy Time. (Those kids from the Jersey Shore could learn a thing or two from this crazy night life.)

My other new favorite pastime is sleeping. All I want to do is sleep. Not because I’m depressed or sick but because I can. Sort of like someone who breaks their leg, after the cast comes off they want to run or dance. Me? I want to sleep. “Dudes! Check me out… zzzzzzzz” Rock star. RIGHT. HERE!

So in order to get some juices flowing other than a wild night of pajamas donned at 7:00 pm and an episode of Glee, the boy and I decided to break out the Halloween decorations.

How festive!  How fun! How innocent!

and then I heard a voice say “Hi…” and I looked up to see….

and my heart stopped.

Yes folks, this is what happens when Grandma takes him Halloween costume shopping.  The grandma that has never seen Steven King’s “It” at a sleepover.  The woman who has never peed her pants in front of friends while watching a psycho clown kill people.  I mean I totally didn’t do this either but I heard it happened. To someone.

So yeah.  I get to live in the same house with this mask for the next couple weeks.  If you think it’s disturbing on, wait until you see it just laying on the dining room table.

I think I’d rather stick to boring.

Someone wake me up on November 1st.

* I am grateful that I have slept three nights in a row. The past two nights I have slept in my bed. The whole night. I realize this isn’t an accomplishment to many and wouldn’t have been for me in say August, but for the month of September, I ended up on the couch with interrupted sleep. Every night. Except the last two. Praise AllahBuddaYahweh.

* I am grateful I feel like me again. Or close to it. I can see the big bright light at the end of this awful tunnel.

* I’m grateful the set of luggage that took root under my eyes is now gone. (If you see me checking myself out in the mirror and running my finger on the now smooth surface under my eye, I haven’t actually lost my mind. Just the bags.)

* I’m grateful my otherwise boring black v-neck sweater has a huge hanger pucker on it. I like my added “flair” today. Or faux shoulder tumor.

* My 20 year high school reunion is this weekend. While I’m not necessarily grateful for it, I’m sure as hell grateful it’s going to be over soon! And grateful I will NEVER EVER volunteer, while lubed up on a bottle of Merlot, to organize an event of such size. Minus that whole wedding thing.

* Speaking of the wedding, I’m grateful I went through this recent nightmare six months before my wedding and not a month before.

* I’m grateful for my previous crazed wedding organization skills because with five months to go, everything is pretty much done. I RULE this bride thing.

* I’m so grateful for my fiancé who hasn’t just been my rock throughout the past month, he’s been my mountain.

* I’m grateful that I’m able to now wear jeans I set aside for “another day”. Meaning another skinnier day. Tried them on last night. They fit. Comfortably.

* I’m grateful I fulfilled my Little League concession stand duties last night and only made wrong change three times. Maybe four.

* Finally I’m so grateful for all of you. New readers and old. For being patient during the silence, for being there when I needed you and for just being there.

And you sweet readers, what are you grateful for this week?

Now that I’m happily on the other side of this nightmare I can piece it all together and want to share it with you, as I have shared in the past.

A month after I was diagnosed with diabetes, I was feeling so great. I had energy for the first time in months, I was working out for the first time in years, I just felt amazing. I wrote on April 6th “my mood is so good I have even tapered off and ended my anti depressant.”

Oh dear.

Slowly and subtly over the summer I realized that plan in April wasn’t a great idea. I deserve to be at my very best and all those close to me can tell you, I wasn’t.

So right before Labor Day I called up my doctor and said, “Hey, can you prescribe that little pill for me again?” In addition, with diabetes comes depression so she was happy to and thought it was a good idea.

I started it on Tuesday the 7th.

Thursday the 9th I was up all night with heart palpitations and panic attacks. ALL NIGHT. I thought it was a one time deal. I was just stressed. It freaked me out but I just assumed it would go away.

Until I didn’t sleep on Saturday night, or Monday night, or the following Saturday night or Sunday night.

Here’s the thing. I sleep. That’s my gig. Ask anyone who has known me for more than a week. Becky sleeps. Throughout all stress, pain, fear, I still sleep.

This also wasn’t just “Oh I didn’t sleep last night.” Which really means I fell asleep at 3 am. I was awake. All night. I truly thought I had forgotten how to sleep and would never again.  (p.s. if you ever have insomnia never Google “Massive Sleep Deprivation Side Effects”. In fact stay far away from the Google.)

Matt’s alarm is set for 5 am.  Normally I never hear it.  One particular morning as I heard it and realized I had yet another sleepless night, I said in a quiet exhausted voice, “Fuck.”  To which poor scared confused Matt said, “NO!”

Me not sleeping was scaring all of us. I tried to be very brave for Ben even though I was absolutely terrified and so sleep deprived it took me 20 minutes to figure out how to make a sandwich for him.

Every day as evening approached I would start to panic. “Will I sleep tonight?” And let me just say, that doesn’t help.

By Monday morning I was insane. Depressed, anxious, sick. (Silver lining: a great way to drop five pounds fast) I would never wish sleep deprivation on my worst enemy. I would be asked “Are you still walking? Exercise helps.” To a woman who didn’t have the energy or the stability to do laundry or even brush her teeth, exercise was a pipe dream.

With the help of many hours on the phone with my mother, my best friend Darcy, and my cousin Amy (not a surprise those two are standing up for me in the wedding) I called my doctor on Monday morning and yelled from the mountain tops, “SOMETHING IS WRONG! HELP ME! PLEASE!”

Turns out, even though this one anti-depressant worked perfectly for years, I have a new body now. I have a new chemical make up and side effects that were never there before reared their ugly head this time around.

My doctor promptly switched me to a new medication at a lower dose and after a week I have finally gotten my life back. I still have some anxiety before sleep but as each night I sleep like the old Becky, I feel safer and better. To say I’m grateful is an understatement.

I purposely am not saying which drugs these are because everyone is different and from searching the message boards (BAD IDEA!) it’s not the medication. It’s how it reacts with each individual.

I wanted to write this very personal post in hopes that it may help someone who is going through the same thing or knows someone who is.

I also wanted to share the importance of being your own advocate. SCREAM for help! Beg for it. Don’t give up. No one has to suffer. I am so thankful I yelled. And yelled loud.

Again, I normally don’t get this personal but I felt this was important. This blog is mine, it’s my voice and honesty is something I have always prided myself on. With that said, please be gentle in your comments.

Ben: Wow, they are right! Counting cows totally works. I was just counting cows and I got super sleepy. Even yawned.

Me: What? Counting what?

Ben: Cows.

Me: Um Ben, usually people count SHEEP. Not cows.

Ben: Yeah well, that’s stupid. Counting cows is much more relaxing.

Me: laughing. Really? How do you figure?

Ben: Think about it Mom. A sheep goes “BAAAA!” and that’s such an annoying sound. It’s like a string being plucked. “BAA!”  But “moo” makes me calm. Sounds almost like a yawn.

Me: Moooo-awn.

Ben: Exactly!  Mooooo-awn.

Me: more laughing. I like it.

Ben: You’re going to blog about this, aren’t you?

Me: Possibly.

In here it’s warm.
Out there it’s cold.

In here the pillow and blankets have all formed around my body like a symphony of comfort.
Out there I have yet to turn the heat on.

In here I have no responsibility but to burrow further into the covers and ignore the alarm.
Out there I have a child to get off to school, a job to go to and humans I have to converse with.

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!
Hit.

In here my hair is just as it should be after eight hours of molding itself to the pillow.
Out there I have to deal with a very weird haircut that is now overgrown thus making it even weirder.

In here I can force myself to go back to the dream where I’m flying over some mountains with my new pretty pink wings.
Out there I have to get into my old car and with it’s old battery and pray it turns over.

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!
THWACK!

In here I have to pee. Badly.
Out there is a toilet.

In here I am thirsty.
Out there is coffee.

In here I’m getting sort of lonely.
Out there is Matt.

Out there wins.

Therefore, I wasn’t too shocked.  But because last night was the first time I turned the air on in my new place, I worried that I blew a fuse. I do love my apartment something fierce, but the old girl, well she isn’t the newest building on the block. When I moved the little switch to “cool on” it made a noise similar to that of a propeller airplane. The noise didn’t bother me because at the time I was so hot and sticky, I could listen to nails on a chalkboard just as long as I was cool.

But there in the dark and the silence, my addled-middle-of-the-night-mind went on overdrive. Did I really blow a fuse? If so, how was I going to fix that? Or perhaps this was some bad guy who knocked my breaker and was about to attack?  Did the power company choose ME to shut the power off as a psychological experiment?

Realizing it could be any and ALL of the above, I somehow summoned the courage to go downstairs and find my cell. All the way down the dark steps I muttering to myself “thisissoscarythisissoscarythisissoscary…”

You really don’t realize how much you rely on power until you have none. Profound huh?  But really, with no nightlights, no light on the microwave clock or DVD player. Just dark.  And then there’s the silence.  That’s the worst part of a black out for me. No nice hum of the fridge, the computer or a fans. If I ever get caught by the enemy in the middle of war (which could TOTALLY HAPPEN) in order to torture me, just give me a room with NO SOUND AT ALL.

Anyway, since I was Super Woman and wouldn’t let my boy upstairs die in a blackout (again, could TOTALLY happen) I found my cell and called the electric company. No, not the one that used to be after Sesame Street, but wouldn’t THAT be cool?

After telling them I had no power and giving this lady who was very pleasant for 2:30am, my address I immediately asked, “Am I the ONLY one in this area to lose power!?” She literally laughed at me and said “No. There are many calls coming in…”

As much as I wanted to wake up Ben and have his company during this momentous occasion, I reminded myself that I am in fact his mother, and not his roommate or big sister and therefore I could check on the boy (with my make shift cell phone flashlight) but then I had to take myself, and the now total lack of drama, back to bed.

When the power came back on an hour later, I truly have never been so happy to hear the roar of Bessie (that’s the name I have given my central air) and the breeze from the fan in my face.

I have also made a solemn vow to never be late on my utility bill!

This little tradition started, oh, as soon as he was sprung from his bedtime jail, a.k.a. his crib.  And now, 7 years later (yes, I was one of those suckers who thought it would be so cute for him to have his own little bed at the age of 1 1/2.  STUPID STUPID STUPID!  To any new mothers out there, keep them locked up as LONG AS YOU CAN!)  he still loves to sleep with his mama.

Minus the year exemption when I was living with my ex, this has been a nightly occurrence.  He always starts in his bed but at some point, “sleep walks” as he calls it, into mine. 

This was fine, somewhat acceptable even, when he was little and snugly and soft.  But now?  Now it’s like sleeping with a over-sized fish out of water. 

Flip.  Flop.  Flip. 

Make that an over-sized fish with super pointy sharp elbows and knees who loves to act out his dreams and therefore kick.  A lot. 

Make that an over-sized fish out of water, with sharp edges and a deviated septum.  Yes, THAT is what it’s like to sleep with Ben.  Any takers?

See this child?

He started out the night in his bed.  I know because I put him there.  This picture is taken in the morning.  Not in his bed.  In mine. 

I’m sure you are all saying, “Lady!  Get a grip.  Just put him back in his bed.”  Right.  Great.  Thanks.  It’s just not that easy.  We live in a loft where I sleep upstairs and his room is downstairs.   So I do feel a little bad for the guy.  He says it’s scary.  He says he believes in monsters.   I’m a sucker.  I believe him.

The other problem is that since I have a king sized bed, I often don’t notice him creeping in, until the snoring fish starts kicking and flopping.  And by that time it’s either already time for me to get up or I’m too tired to deal.  So instead I just kick him back and roll him over. 

But seriously, the dude is almost 9.  We both have made so many excuses.  “When we get a house, our rooms will be closer to each other.”  “When you are nine.  For sure when you are nine.”  “When a black Democrat with a middle name of Hussein becomes President.”

But now it’s time.  No more excuses.  Because the truth is I’m tired.  And call me crazy but I’m not really a fan of the kidney punch at 3am.

THE TIME HAS COME TO TAKE BACK MY BED!

Because this dude? 

Yeah, he’s still in my bed.

Wordless Wednesday

I have always been the best sleeper.  My mother used to look at me with such envy with her tired, 4 hour sleep eyes.  I was one of those people who when my head would hit the pillow, in roughly three minutes I’d be out until my alarm went off in the morning.   I got this gift from my father and luckily Ben has it too.

Sadly, I think I have been kicked out of their club.

Maybe it’s just a phase.  Maybe it’s just because it’s summer and it feels like 120 degrees in here even though yes, the air is on.   Maybe it’s because I woke up to go to the bathroom and now I can’t get back to sleep because I’m thinking about work tomorrow and my car that desperately needs to get fixed but where am I going to get the extra cash and when was my last blog post about and oh yeah, that, and what date is it and when does my MG&E bill come and wow how much is that going to be with the air running all the time and but why is it still so hot in here and what are all of Ben’s activities this week and does he have the right clothes clean for those activities and what great comeback can I give back to Josh the next time he tells me Global Warming isn’t real and STOP!  JUST SHHHHHHHHHH!  Be done!

Or maybe this is the time I kiss my father’s genes goodbye and get on my mothers insomniac bandwagon.  And thank you Mr. Brain because now I’m going to be thinking about that until my alarm goes off.

Sigh.

To all those sleeping.  I’m jealous.  To those of us in this world awake at now 2:47AM on a Tuesday morning… Hi.