This is a vent post, so if you don’t want to read further, I’ll understand. I didn’t really want to write it either. But there’s some stuff I need to get off my chest, and it’s far better for me to do it here than take it out on the people I love, who are innocent of any wrongdoing. It’s just me.
First complaint: Wonky sleep. This is NEVER a good thing. I’m having trouble falling asleep again, and I’m waking up during the night as well. The hours between seven and 10 AM provide the best sleep of the night, and I often end up not emerging from my room till after 11 because I’m so reluctant to leave the comfort of my warm blankets. (Well, and I use my light for 30 minutes every morning so I have to include that time in the equation.)
This makes me appear lazy, and to some extent I am. What nobody really knows is how late I’m up at night…most of the time, I’m not ready for sleep till two or three in the morning. I take my meds at the same time every night, but they don’t kick in for hours. Maybe I need to take Klonopin for a little while to help kick the insomnia; it’s right handy at making me sleep. I just hate the idea of getting back into the habit (if only for a short time) because it took some doing to get off of it, and I’m proud of myself for that.
Second complaint: I’m irritable and bitchy. Ordinary sounds bother me; more intense noises, such as video games, make me crazy; and neither TV nor music drowns them out. I don’t mean to be such a grouch, but almost everything bugs me these days and I am apt to go off. I even started an argument with my sister-in-law over something totally stupid, like a magazine I wasn’t done with that she’d accidentally tossed in the recycle bin. I’ve been really uptight lately about my things being moved around, and I sort of lost my shit. (No screaming fits though.)
It’s OK now, we kissed and made up so to speak, but I wish I’d kept my freaking mouth shut. It’s all I can do not to scream when there’s two or three teenagers going in and out, in and out, all day and half the night, but one of them lives here and has the right to have friends over. Again, nothing against anyone else, it’s just me.
Gripe number three: my weight is in freefall, and so is my hair. I won’t shed any tears about the 60+ pounds I’ve dropped since Will passed away, but it seems to go hand-in-glove with the hair loss. Even my son-in-law Clark is officially worried, because the stuff is coming out by the fistful to the point that we both wonder how it is that I am not bald. I can’t blame it on thyroid problems; my recent test showed normal function. Nor is it due to malnutrition—my labs came back fine in that department as well. That leaves only stress as a potential cause, and unfortunately it makes sense. Stress? What stress? I’m only a widow of six months who’s lost her mate and a good portion of her independence. I don’t even have my own car anymore, thanks to the wreck I had in November. Not that I go many places by myself…I just wish I had the option.
So that’s my little pity party. I have to admit I feel a little better after whining for a bit. Now if I can only get a couple of nights’ decent sleep, who knows, the irritability might go away and all will be well. And by the way: if you’ve made it this far, thank you for reading!