I’m Only Sleeping

I‘m pretty sure I have jet lag every morning of my life.

I go to bed at night trying to tattoo into my mind the excitement I want to feel when my alarm goes off. In the morning, just a little too early, the cell phone song cuts through a thick fog of dreams, disturbing and addictive dreams. Whatever I thought the night before no longer ever existed. Coming up out of the water of sleep, my eyes sting and I suck in handfuls of air trying to find my phone in the dark. I sit up after turning the noise off and I take breaths that come from somewhere deep, like my body is the earth and some hidden cavern holds life, miles and miles from the surface.

Sometimes I check the media on my phone, little slices of affirmation or conflict that I feel dully, but feel more than understand. If I have enough wisdom, I refrain from looking at my phone because I know that all of those panting dogs will wait.

I blink, blink, close my eyes reminding them what it’s like to be awake. “Be awake!” I try to shout to my insides because they weigh so much more than usual…

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Zombie Life

Although I have mostly integrated my Western Washington self and my Colorado Springs self, I find the first day or two after traveling really disorienting.

Coming back to Colorado is the more disorienting of the two transitions. It doesn’t help when I have lost a lot of sleep.

So Wednesday night I had two hours of sleep. This led to a very confusing time checking in at the airport at 5am on Thursday. They have those machines now, the do-it-yourself check-in touch screen computer screens. Although I was flying into Denver, I did not remember this until I’d failed three times on the computer screen typing in Colorado Springs, and then stood in line and talked to a real person. The real woman I spoke to made me wait, “I’m not ready for you yet,” and probably because I was so tired, I felt sure that she was clacking away nonsense on her computer keyboard simply to put me in my place. I explained the confusion I felt that my flight didn’t exist and it wasn’t until she used the word, “Denver” that I realized my mistake.

Once I was finally back in my room in Colorado, I did some random unpacking and took a nap. Then I read, or tried to read and took another nap. Last night, exhausted at 9pm, I fell asleep hard and woke up almost twelve hours later. This was not disturbing to me, but a relief to have gotten sleep I obviously needed.

What was disturbing is how the day unfolded following this epic sleep…

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The Log in My Eye

Transitions often make it difficult for me to know who I am. I would like that to be different.

Oddly enough, one of my “Strength Finders” strengths is flexibility. I began to seriously question this “strength” sometime at the beginning of this year because I was flattened by a particular transition. Totally undone.

At that time I realized that what makes me flexible is my great intolerance for not fitting. It’s like a big splinter that I MUST get out RIGHT NOW.

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I’m not talking about morals or anything. I’m talking about cultural things which are not connected to morals- bed times, food habits, conversation topics, clothing, time orientation, what communicates respect or what is considered rude. All of these physical manifestations of culture come from underlying values and when I first enter a new culture those differences feel unbearable to me. So I have a tendency to wrestle hard with myself in order that those things not be points of conflict….

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