Two weeks. Two solid weeks of not enough sleep. It's not that I'm not trying. I am doing everything in my power to try for a solid 6-1/2 hours of sleep at night, but the brain and body are not cooperating. I try to get to bed at a reasonable hour, but there is never enough time in my evenings to get everything done. So maybe it is midnight before I am turning of the lamp and pulling the down comforter up under my chin. But that gives me a solid 6 hours before the alarm clicks on to Mornings with Greg and the John Stewart Minute. 6 hours. But here is where the brain decides to step in and rearrange the plan. I have been waking up at 5:30. Five-fucking-thirty. I had hoped that the time change might help, but no, still waking up at five-fucking-thirty. And I have to admit, it is making me just a tad ragged. Last night I decided to set the alarm for 6;45 and skip the morning cardio, figuring at this point that sleep was more important than a workout. So, what happens? I wake up at five-fucking-thirty. I had time for cardio and to clean my living room. Yesterday it was the kitchen. At least the house is benefitting.
Okay, 5-1/2 hours. I could get by on 5-1/2 hours. But here is where my body decided to join the brain in this plot to take over my psyche. The traitorous body wakes me up at 4am to pee. Yeah, I'm at that age where I have to get up in the middle of the night to pee. Fuck. I guess I could cut out the late glass of warm milk. Yeah, I drink a glass of warm milk with a little vanilla at night, it's supposed to help me fall asleep. What? Yeah, I'm at that age where I drink warm milk in the evening and get up in the middle of the night to pee, and I can still kick your ass (age and treachery beats youth and enthusiasm every time... you wanna run for it? Then you will prove that scared as shit runs faster than mad as hell... but then, I won't chase you that hard, too much work and I am too old and wise for that, I will just throw something at your legs, knock you down, and THEN kick your ass... back to that age and treachery thing...).
So, with my meager 5-1/2 hours cut down to 5 hours by my all-too-predictable bodily functions, it goes without saying that I am feeling a bit sleep deprived, but functioning remarkably well regardless.
The question is Insomnia or Mania? Am I finally slipping into the long absent Manic mode? I can only hope, since I have spent a long winter in the ying to that yang. Depression isn't so bad, my friends and family have learned to (mostly) leave me alone in the winter. It is best to leave the hibernating bear alone, do not poke it with a stick or throw things into the cave, it will end badly. Very badly.
So, Insomnia or Mania? Mania with the accompanying energy/creativity/bon vivant? Or Insomnia with the inevitable hallucinations/irritablity/delusions? The random, sporadic ramblings of this post could point either way, only time will tell. For tonight, I have lifted weights to the point of exhaustion, had chicken for dinner and avoided the lure of the television in the hopes that endorphins, tryptophan and relaxation may be the key to a normal night's sleep. One can hope.