Ill-Timed Naps and other First-World Problems

I made the mistake of napping a few days ago and now I’m pretty much sold on the idea that naps are officially the Worst Idea Ever ™.

It all starts with my complicated relationship with food. To be more specific, my body’s dislike of all things other than kale and brown rice. I’m allergic to dairy and gluten – so I almost never go out to eat. Gluten makes me feel like death but dairy is my fickle friend; it’s touch-and-go so sometimes I risk it. You’d think that a few bad reactions from dairy would engender a certain antipathy towards milk products – but, during lapses of logic and reason, I occasionally decide that there is no reason I can’t force my body to break down lactose, it’s just being lazy.

Well, I was out to lunch with a friend and feeling strangely attracted to bad decisions because I had a glass of Malbec with my meal and the world was mine. Suddenly, I was invincible. I usually try to avoid milk because, you know, terrible stomach aches are not my life goal but for some reason, I thought that I could handle it. I could do anything. I was the star of my own Nike commercial. Just do it. Just eat the ice cream. I felt especially compelled to eat it in light of my recent meal of kale “pizza” (quotations because I’m pretty sure it was a cauliflower crust and that’s not real pizza) and salad. The universe was practically begging me to negate the health benefits of my latest consumables. And thus, the decision to eat Haagen-Dazs happened.

And then fifteen minutes later, regret happened.

When I got home, I was in full Regret Mode and decided that in order to avoid the worst effects of the ice cream I would sleep. So I essentially went into a dairy coma and slept for several hours in the afternoon through the early evening.

When I woke up, I immediately felt panic as I realized how much I had actually slept. I decided to abandon all semblance of a circadian rhythm and tried to go back to sleep and stay asleep for the rest of the night. Because clearly the solution to too much sleep is MOAR SLEEP.

No. My attempts at sleeping were pathetic and instead, I spent the next 7 hours not sleeping. 230 am rolled around and I thought to myself, “My, isn’t it grand I have to wake up in three hours for school?”

My alarm went off at 545 am and I said, “LOLNO,” to my first class. And then my alarm went off again an hour later and I said, “ROFL NO,” to my second class. However, the third time my alarm went off, I dragged myself out of bed and threw my hair into an unsightly, bird’s-nest bun (you won’t see this hairstyle on Pinterest), and threw on a weird sweatshirt. And now I have these neat under-eye circles as my daily accessories.

Just say no to naps.

– Daughter

A Boyfriend Named Insomnia

Insomnia, my old paramour, has come for an extended stay. He’s a bit of a jerk as he tends to keep me up until daybreak. I have told him over and over again that I need my beauty sleep, to which he responds, “No amount of sleep will help you with that, honey.”

Not me.

Not me.

What is really unfortunate about not sleeping is that the world does not care. The day continues whether you are bright-eyed and bushy-tailed or bleary-eyed and scraggly-tailed. I’m writing this now at 2am in the morning, laughing maniacally as I calculate for the millionth time how much sleep – or rather, how little – I will get. My mind is bouncing around like a newborn joey but my body is tired… because it just gave birth to a joey. Those interspecies births are killer.

These are the thoughts I tend to ruminate on when Insomnia tries to make our relationship work again by showering me with wakefulness:

MORTALITY

THE MEANING OF LIFE

LOVE

HEART-BREAK

FAMILY

CATS

WHAT TOMORROW’S BREAKFAST WILL CONSIST OF

Except for cats and food, my thoughts tend toward the melancholy when I find myself in Insomnia’s uncomfortable, restless embrace strangle-hold. It’s not enough that I can’t sleep, I must also grapple with unanswerable ontological questions that are deeply unsettling and thus, not conducive to sleep.

Luckily, I have coping mechanisms! One is to read and do homework because being productive is generally a GoodLifeChoice ™.  Another way I cope is meticulously painting my nails with the likenesses of the first ten U.S. presidents. I also generally get up at some point and eat my feelings in the form of a gallon tub of hummus and some hippie flax seed crackers. If I really can’t sleep, I will cry. Usually while rolling around and sobbing, “I DID MY BEST…I DID MY BEST.” It sounds very theatrical. And it is.

"This would be ever so restful if I weren't deathly allergic to pollen and grass."

“This would be ever so restful if I weren’t deathly allergic to pollen and grass.”

There is nothing quite like the hysteria of a mental breakdown from Insomnia. But maybe when I finally fall asleep and wake up in the morning, I will find the emotional strength to break up with him. He was never good enough for me anyway and always brutally murdered those sheep I am so fond of counting. That jerk.

– Daughter

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