When I jumped on the meditation bandwagon

I am a fairly high-strung person.

I look calm and collected, but inside my head I am freaking the @#*& out.

I come by it honestly.  My mother was this kind of person too.  It was said she could put her head on one chair and her feet on another without sagging in the middle.

I resemble that remark.

My shoulders are never relaxed.  My jaw is always clenched.  My head is always aching.

Source

My mind never stops considering the options of disaster and woe that lay ahead of me.  I go over every conversation that didn't go as planned, every thing I wish I had done differently, and every thing that I might have to do or say in the coming months.

It makes sleeping rather difficult.

Actually, it also makes being awake rather difficult as I can get so ramped up that my resting heart rate is 100 on a regular basis.

When the "mindfulness" trend started many years ago, people started telling me about it.  It was presented as a perfect solution to settle my disquieted mind and really focus on the present.

Pardon me while I hurl.

Truthfully, the first few times I tried mindful meditation, it filled me with such uncontrollable rage I had to stop right then.  It didn't get better for a long time.

Then I started yoga.

Source

Everyone who knows me, knows I'm a huge yoga fan (you have to check out Yoga with Adriene, she is the greatest!).  I have taken classes in a picturesque brick room with the city bustling beneath me while I settle into the mat and am at peace for the first time in a long time.  I have taken busy active yoga with a crammed room of 50 other people while the sweat pours down my face.  I have settled into a nice mix of both in my living room while I get ready for the day.

Finally, I understood what meditation is about.  But I had to learn it while DOING something.

Once I had that, I realized I could move into exploring what meditation could do beyond the mat.

I started listening to a guided meditation on Calm.com on my iPhone.  I found I didn't hate the voice of the woman so I could sit through it without being all ragey.  This is an important first step.

Second step was working my way up from 2 to 10 and finally 25 minutes.

Just sitting and being is really hard when you're a doer and a worrier.  It feels weird.

Source

I'm not solved.  I still have anxiety filled nights of insomnia, but they are fewer than they were.  I still have rock hard shoulder and neck muscles (and not the kind that are enviable) but I have ways to work them out.

Now, I try and do yoga three times a week and I do nightly meditation to fall asleep.

I'm still awake at 4 in the morning, but I am taking deep breaths while I am.

Recharging for Thankful Thursday

1. After the worst weekend I've worked in a long time, I've had 3 days to do nothing but nap, eat, nap, watch TV, and walk the dog.


2. The extremely frigid weather broke for a bit. It's meant more snow, but we have been able to go outside and that means more than I can say.
   
   
   
   
   



3. I've had some time to catch up on Walking Dead episodes. Darryl breaks my heart. As my sister said, "He is equally sexy and repugnant, but I love him".






4. Surprising pops of colour in an otherwise white landscape
   
   
   



5. Supper and drinks with friends tonight before I head back to work tomorrow. Bring on the pork ribs!

Mumbling incoherently: my version of pillow talk

Most of the time, I don't sleep very soundly.  It has been a curse of my life (and anyone else in my bed) - I don't sleep through the night, I hear every sound, and I am a miserable blanket hog.

Every once in awhile though, I will sleep the sleep of the dead. Usually this involves a long shift at work, over-the-counter medications, and all the stars aligning in a paisley pattern.

Sometimes, you just have to pass out

Seriously, it's that rare.

I find, when I am sleeping this hard, it is the exact moment someone will call me and need me to think immediately upon answering the phone. It almost always goes like this:

Me: holmewhho?
Them: There is 4 seconds on the count down and I need to know which wire!!! Green or red? DO I CUT GREEN OR RED???? 
Me: mfwenarg
Them: ** KABOOM **

This weekend I experienced a bit of that. With the new title at work, I am on call a lot. On my 4 days of work, if there is a crisis the other workers need help with, I'm the first call.  I don't mind it, I like to help.  The only problem is, I don't always remember what I've said once I wake up the next morning.

A co-worker was laughing at me about her call to me early one morning.  She knew I would be waken out of a dead sleep so tried to ease me into talking by asking how I was and all that. I guess I was a little incoherent because all I could say was "whatveyougot?" mumbled as though my face was still in a pillow.

I can sleep anywhere. Just not well.

It reminded me of the time a room mate told me about a conversation a friend of hers had with me one morning after I had been on night shift.  The friend had called looking for Shannon. I knew Shannon was house sitting for someone. I thought I relayed that to the friend.  I did not.

Instead? I said "Shannon lives in a house."

Then I hung up.

The quiet of the night: Post from the past

Originally written August 2011 though I thought it more fitting for the quiet that only comes with a cold winter night.
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Late in the night has always been my favourite time of day.  I love to wander the house at night while the world is quiet and soft.  The only noise is the tick of the clock, the noise of my footsteps and the breath of my companions lost in their dreams.

Even when I go to bed at a decent hour, I rise in the middle of the night.  It's been this way since I was young.  I never wanted to sleep at night.  It always seemed as though I was missing something.  As I grew older, I realized what it was: the night time.  I use the night time for soul searching, for relaxing, to recharge.  I use the night for getting things done, for doing nothing and for thinking grand thoughts or none at all.

My old house mid-winter night

My mother used to do the same.  She would always go to bed at the same time as my father.  He worked early and long days, so they would go off to sleep together -- we could hear the quiet tones of discussion that encompassed the day's events and the week's plans.  Then, when my father slept, my mother crept from the bed and wandered the house in the quiet.  She would write letters to friends, she would cross stitch, she would read -- but mostly, she would revel in the time alone.

I was in my teens before I consciously noticed her habit of wandering during the night.  I am sure she did it throughout my life.  It seemed to me she liked best to sit at the table and write.  She was known for long letters to friends and family -- tidbits about her day and ours; funny thoughts and observations; deep thoughts and words of advice.

It is in the middle of the night I feel closest to my mother now.  I like to think of her sitting in the compatible silence recharging her batteries and finally relaxing for a few minutes.  I like to think of her there, quietly writing as the dogs, the children and the husband slept in the other rooms.

As I sit here and write -- to my friends and family -- I like to think of her and thank her for the love of the quiet of the night.

Being a baby is hard work. Babysitting might be worse.

On Sunday night, I agreed to babysit for my cousin's little girl, Elizabug aka Lil E. It was a busy weekend for the family with E's birthday, getting over a cold, having a party for 15 little kids, and being topped off by her mom's birthday on Sunday.

We're buds here.

Sunday evening, I headed over to start my work as baby wrangler extraordinaire.  I walked in the door and knew exactly how my night was going to go.  E took one look at me, grinned her face off, and burst into tears. It would be the night of the bi-polar baby -- happy and then OH SO SAD.

It quickly became a battle of wills. E is pretty adorable and feisty.  What she didn't count on is Auntie Bronwyn is meaner than her. I've lived longer, and I've got more insurance.

First we had supper -- that part went pretty well.  I gave her a spoon to play with and while she was trying to put it in her mouth, I shoved food in there. She ate almost the whole bowl. It wasn't until we were moving on to other things when suddenly she decided there would be NO MORE OF THIS and started screaming.  Problem with that is it was time for meds and I knew it would be easier if she was strapped in.

I was wrong.

I put the syringe full of medicine near her face and she turned. No problem. I got it in her mouth and put the tiniest amount past her lips. She drooled it onto her chest. I used her spoon to put some in her mouth. She spit. I wiped it off her face with my finger and decided to sneak it in that way. She bit me. Finally, I got as much of it in her mouth as down her shirt and in my hair. I figured it was close enough.  On to bath time.

Don't let her innocent face fool you.

It's been a long time since I bathed a baby, so I was a little concerned about making it too hot. I knew the rule of thumb was luke-warm, but I have to admit I was on the luke side of warm. E let me know this as about 5 minutes after I put her in the tub she started shaking and clacking her teeth together. Was the water actually that cold? No, she just wanted me to know she wasn't pleased. I pulled her out, warmed up the water, put her back in and life was good.  We had 15 minutes of pure joy.

Except she started to doze off.  I figured it was a sign, so I pulled her out of the tub. She came willingly until she saw the lotion I had to put on her. FREAK OUT. She went stiff as a board and tried to lay down on top of me.  She wailed and sobbed and moaned.  I mean, until she saw her pjs and then she got distracted.

It alternated like that for the next 10 minutes.  I would put the lotion on the baby (or she gets the hose again) and she would be FURIOUS until something shiny happened and she forgot she was supposed to be mad. The diaper went on while she was standing because there was no convincing her otherwise. It was hard to keep a straight face while strapping RIGHTEOUS INDIGNATION baby into her footy pyjamas.

We got her done, she calmed down, and we went to warm up her bottle to prepare for the night.  I let her stare at the microwave while I warmed the bottle and checked to make sure it wouldn't burn her.  We sat down in the rocking chair and started to read a book about the Little Owl. It was adorable. E was not impressed. She wanted the other book. Fine. I like Goodnight Moon. Except she didn't like that one. She wanted the Owl one. No, the Moon one. NO. THIS IS NOT RIGHT.

Fine. No more books. I got her bunny out of the crib and her swaddling blanket. She bit the bunny by the ear and growled. Then she screamed. I was sure the neighbours were going to call on me by this point. She had done little but scream bloody murder between laughing fits for the last hour. But I was not to be deterred. Blanket on, bunny in hand (and teeth), bottle given, I walked away from the crib -- only to hear the bottle being flung across the room.

Howling ensued. I waited a few seconds and turned back. She had wrapped the blanket around herself in a way that would cut off circulation and was trying to stand up. The howling had turned into  hyperventilating. I picked her up. Crying ceased. It was like one of those dolls from the 90s. Put her down - cry; pick her up - happy.

Grumpiest baby to ever have grumped

Finally, I held her, wrapped in her blanket, and we sat on the rocker. I rocked (the face of calm) while E strained and struggled, howled and sobbed, growled and moaned. She got close enough to my sweater that she bit the neck edge and held it in her teeth for dear life. If she could have gotten skin, I have no doubt I'd have bled.

She fought going to sleep harder than any baby I've seen in a long time. She alternately bit her bunny and my sweater as though we were her captors she had to battle. Finally, she slumped in defeat. It was not a giving in to tired as much as it was a giving up because there is NO POINT TO LIFE ANY MORE. If she could have rolled her eyes and HARUMPHed, I'm sure nothing would have expressed her opinion more clearly.

She fell asleep despite herself and only woke when I placed her in the crib to give me one last growl and bite her bunny firmly on the ear before falling back to sleep.  I backed out of the room slowly holding my breath.

I had won, but it was a tenuous victory.

I MayB dog tired

Anyone who knows me knows I work shift work.  Each week is a new set of shifts to make my own personal time zone. I've always said it's like I've been jet-lagged for 14 years.

Add that to the fact I have never been a good sleeper and I am a bit of a zombie.

This does not stop me from trying to be über productive even when I'm on nights like I have been this week.  I seem to think scheduling something in the middle of my "night" is a perfectly reasonable thing to do.

I am not very bright.

This week, because I picked up an extra shift, I will work 5 night shifts in a row.  Every single day I have had an appointment some time in the middle of the afternoon.  Something I could not possibly move or miss or sleep through.

Did I mention I'm starting to see things?

Not really, but you get my point.

Today. TODAY. Today is the first day of 4 where I will be able to sleep for as long as I want to. I can lounge in bed with the dog while he gets his second full night's sleep (he's like a Hobbit with breakfasts. Second bedtime is his favourite) and I can sleep and sleep and sleep.

Napping with his favourite chew bone. If he could do both, he would.

Don't be alarmed if you can hear snoring.