I’m tired. Not, gee-I-wish-I-could-catch-a-break-tired, since I, ahem, just had a break; but, I’m tired in a why-on-earth-do-I-not-get-my-duff-in-bed-earlier sort of way. In short, I’m fatigued.
In addition to going to bed way too late, about 4 nights per week, my sleep is interrupted by someone not feeling well, needing to go the bathroom, having a bad dream or any other sort of ailment you can imagine. And while I know this will happen, I still don’t manage to get myself to bed before 11:00 most nights.
Why do I do this to myself?
Part of the reason is that I’m just so happy to have alone, quiet time at nights that I relish in the quiet aloneness for much too long. Going to bed almost feels like defeat, like I’m surrendering. So instead, I power through, proving to whom, I’m not exactly sure, that I still have the independence to do what I want for how long I want.
Brilliant, I know.
On top of that, I’ve got a lot of work to do and I just can’t seem to get it done during the day – thus leaving the evenings. And I hate working in the evenings so it takes me twice as long to get anything done. My brain after 8:00 is like the egg in a frying pan – only I don’t need drugs to get there, just a prolonged period of short, interrupted sleep.
Then there’s the fact that I cannot sleep unless I’ve read for a little while. But again, I don’t get myself in bed until 10:00 or 10:30, which means the reading time pushes the sleep time back a little further (or a lot depending on the book).
So that leaves me in a jumbled mess of blah with circles under my eyes. Boo! Am I the only one who does this? Am I the only one who pushes herself to the limit simply because it’s the only time I really, truly have to myself in a day?
Tell me I’m not alone…