Ulterior motives

So I was contemplating my late night habits this morning, wondering why I keep incurring sleep debt every night.

I'm pretty sure most of the reason is that I spend 14 (or more) hours a day, 7 days a week in continual "Mom" mode. I need a couple hours of down time, after Dajamou and the Bean are in bed, before I go to sleep and start the cycle over again. At least, I feel like I need it. A desire to shift gears for a while.

I've given myself the talk about sleep debt, and about morning beginning at night, and about rest making me a better parent. But it doesn't seem to matter. Almost every night I stay up late.

So this morning I was giving myself the talk again. Because I do that. *sigh, patterns*

And a new thought came up: Am I in some way trying to punish the dajadaddy for working such long hours?

I'm pretty sure the answer is no. But it's an interesting thought to just come popping in. I'm going to contemplate it for a while and make sure that I'm not letting some hidden resentment drive my choices. Not that un-hidden resentment is much better, but it's easier to address when I know about it.

I can even see some good coming of this: my thoughts are skipping out of the usual ruts, even if it's for a second. I'm starting to think in new ways about my relationship with parenting and sleep and "me time."

Person of Interest

I have many many fears. Who doesn't? Anyway, one of my fears is of being...boring. Uninteresting. Mediocre. Ordinary. Bland.

Last night, after doing some Shiva Nata level 1 arms as fast as I could, and remembering that I'm supposed to try to meditate after flailing, and trying without success to do so, I went to bed. And the thought that popped into my head before sleep was about this fear of mine. Here's my linear, morning after, not-inside-my-head version of how the inner dialogue went:

*sigh*

I'm probably going to have to give up red wine, it's been making me feel like crap the last few times I had any.

But that's one of the vices I like.

But I don't like how it makes me feel later. And there are other drinks I can still have.

*sigh*

Fine, I'll give up red wine. Mostly. Relegate it to once in a rare while.

It's the right thing to do, to take care of my body.

If I'm going to take care of myself, I'm going to have to give up other vices.

Like snacking late at night.

Because Michael Pollan said that French people don't get fat because they only have one serving and they don't snack between meals.

Well crap. I like to snack.

If I can't drink wine and I can't snack, what am I going to do in the evenings so I'm not a boring lump of flesh on the chair?

Wait, what?

Eating and drinking don't make me interesting.

Do I do these things because I think they make me interesting?

Are all of my vices some kind of misguided attempt to be someone that people want to be around?

Vices = interesting?

I have to remember this so I can write in my blogjournal!

I should get up and do it right now, because I never remember what I think about before I go to sleep.

If I get up to write it down, I'll probably start reading Facebook and Twitter and all my blogs and that will spoil the going to bed early thing I've got going here.

Even if it is only 30 minutes early.

I'm just going to say it over and over to myself so I remember tomorrow.

Vices = interesting?

So. Some other things that came to me as I was writing this:

Wait, what? I like my vices?

Huh. I guess I do like some of them. Especially red wine.

And also:

Wait, what? I'm thinking of trying a specific diet just because Michael Pollan mentioned it in passing in The Omnivore's Dilemma?

It's true. There's another book all about it. So it must be true!

Also, it kind of makes a little sense.

Stepping it up

My shiva nata practice has been spotty lately. But I'm still practicing a few times a week, which is keeping the arm movements in my brain well enough. I'm thinking about adding in the legs now. Also doing some ab exercises to try and address the whole chronic back pain thing.

Baby steps, baby steps. The monsters are jumping up and down and shrieking that it's not enough. I'm going to give them some tea and get to work.

Anxiety

I have not been going out much lately. And I think I'm getting out of the habit, because now whenever there's a social outing coming up, I feel a measurable degree of anxiety around it.

I'm trying to practice just being present with the feeling instead of immersing myself in it. That makes no sense in writing but it does in my head.

And there are inklings of a realization that maybe my inertia has to do with tiredness. Or a perception of tiredness. Or a fear of scarcity...of energy? Definitely some monster action going on there.

Today's moment of bing

So it really happens. These little shiva-nata-created realizations. I was starting to wonder if they would, because I actually have them sometimes on my own. But they are usually about myself rather than anything else.

Today's was about my daughter, of all things. About how to convince her to pick up after herself, of all things. But hey. It's a bing. So I'm not the only Shivanaut to never get anything out of it. I'm just the latest noob to finally cross that threshold, I guess.