I may be sniveling, still, but at least I’m sleeping okay. That’s something that can be tricky for me, I’ve had trouble with sleep over the years. Part of it is, or was, believing I’ve had a bad night’s sleep. If you believe that, you won’t wake up energized. You’ll wake up with a tired sigh, not the best way to start the day. Various sleep trackers disproved that to me, years ago, but I still won’t believe it, and thus I keep tracking my sleep.
There’s another aspect that tells me I’ve slept well, and that’s my internal clock. I’ve got this thing that if I set the alarm for, say, 7:30 am, I will wake up a minute or two before, so I won’t have to listen to it go off. Or, as it’s been the past couple of days, I note the time when I’m done reading for the night, and just think to myself ”it’s okay to get up at 7 am” because that’s the appropriate amount of sleep. Sure enough, that’s when I wake up.
Getting up is a different matter. I used to get up an hour or so before everyone else in the past. I made coffee, and sat down to write, every day. It was a very productive time, and it worked well for me. This was before having a kid in the house, or apartment, as it were; thus there’s no way I can grind coffee and get some work done before the family wakes up. He’d be up, cranky, and curious, and that’d be that. Then again, it’s an every other week situation, so maybe I could get an every other week habit going? Sounds hard, habits have a tendency to not stay habit if you break them off, but it might be possible.
It’s just past 7:20 am as I’m wrapping this up. Yesterday’s essay on Joan Didion was written just after seven in the morning. I haven’t ground any coffee beans, so excuse the lack of caffeine-infused thoughts, but it does seem as if I can function without coffee. It’s probably an excuse, in the end, as most things are. If you truly want something, you’ll make it work (or die trying), somehow.
And I, I kind of want to go back to the warm bed. That’s what I’m battling here, the fact that my better half is still snoozing in the bedroom, and it’s nice to wake up together. It’s a much better place than where I’m at now, in the living room, craving coffee and listening to my tinnitus.
But, there are words to write. And that’s important too. My solitary early mornings, and the horrendous feeling this time of day fill me with, might be the price I have to pay to properly do what I truly want. Because come 9 am, the Real World™️ kicks in, and while I can dodge it for a while, some days, it’ll be here full force before noon.
I guess I’ll set my internal clock for 7 am tomorrow, too. Please send coffee.