Saturday, January 11, 2014
Counting My Blessings
I don’t sleep well when I’ve had two pain pills, and last night after a long day I had two pain pills. I don’t notice much about how they make me feel, but the pain eventually drifts off, and my body starts to feel like mine again, and not some sort of alien body I’m trapped in. With two pain pills instead of one I also tend to babble, amusing my husband and myself. And then when I go to bed I don’t sleep, or I do sleep but then wake up, and I’m restless, so I play with my phone, my Kindle, my iPad. But my eyes don’t want to stay open, even though I can’t sleep, so I fall asleep with my electronic device on my face, and then I wake up minutes later and it’s still there, and so is Ash, snoring above my head.
I try not to do this with the iPad because it’s heavier and I don’t want my face smashed when I fall asleep.
Last night I downloaded an audible book onto my phone, thinking that then I could close my eyes. However, a soothing voice talking while I’m in bed puts me to sleep, no matter how good the story, and besides, I’ve had pain pills, so hearing the book isn’t really an option. I’ve listened to some really good books in my sleep, and I’m sorry I’ve missed them, but I still have them, so I can retry until I get it right.
The book was good, I’m sure, but I don’t remember any of it. This is quite normal when I’ve taken pain pills. When I woke up this morning I had two sets of earbuds in bed with me, and I have no explanation for why I would have two sets, because I only have the two ears.
My bedside is an electrical paradise. Cords for my phone and my Kindle and my iPad, because they like to charge overnight, multiple ear buds, and a non-working night light I’ve kept there because it’s a large red globe.
I’m very frightened of going to bed without something to entertain me should I wake up with nothing to do. Then I’d be forced to stare at the ceiling and count my blessings.
Not that this is a bad thing – I have so many. I’m surrounded by them as I sleep, or as I lay awake thinking about sleeping, and when I wake up, and I go about my day. Blessings are everywhere, as if I’ve accumulated all the blessings and kept them all for myself. This is silly though – there’s enough for everyone, I’m not really hoarding them.
Some days, if I’m really careful, I can get away with no pain pills. Usually one pain pill is enough, and when it’s just one or none, I sleep well, unless I wake up in the middle of the night in pain.
I even sleep well despite having a dog who seems to think going outside in the middle of the night is a good thing to do. I don’t mind – he’s a good dog. We go downstairs, he goes outside, I have an Oreo or a sugar-free chocolate mousse, he comes back in, begs for a Milkbone, I say no, and we go back to bed. He’s back asleep within minutes, and me shortly thereafter.
One night I was far too tired, and I asked Andrew to get up with him, and so he did. Usually asking him to do it is far more trouble than it’s worth, because he’ll say, “Sure,” and then turn over and go right back to sleep, as if saying he did it is the same as doing it. I have to be desperately worn out to ask him to do it.
Nights I can’t sleep I’m still blessed, because I have the means to make the pain better. There is not one thing about my life that I would change, other than the deep-seated self-loathing that I’ve mostly relegated to a dark dusty past, but even that just makes me try harder. I don’t know where it comes from, and it doesn’t really matter. The only thing that matters about it is that I know it’s unnecessary, and probably stupid. Certainly uncalled for.
Sometimes I might wonder why I’m so blessed, but that’s not for me to answer. It’s certainly not worthiness, nor earning it. It just is.