Shut Your Eyes and Your Mouth
Two weeks ago, just about, I had a stressful week. I was waking up at four and five in the morning and from then on I was awake for about 15 hours. I was tired, overworked, under-sexed and never letting one moment of negativity affecting my pace. I could not let it, I had too much to do and there were people counting on me now. There were lines to be memorized and a kid to be fed; my life as a New York actor/nanny.
Friday came and went. I had plans to fill the hours of the weekend and many of those hours were dedicated to my my pillow and my head. I slept, I slept hard. One night I had too many pillows but that didn’t stop me. I didn’t sleep until 2pm, only until about 10:30/11am. Nothing crazy but just enough.
But after a few hours of being awake, I couldn’t shake it. I felt gloomy. Actually, that’s wrong. I felt nothing. Not excitement to see my boyfriend or happiness that I didn’t have to work. I didn’t even feel annoyed that it was too warm for November. I didn’t care, I couldn’t feel it so it didn’t matter.
I couldn’t feel anything behind my eyes. I couldn’t lift my arms. I didn’t want my boyfriend near me. I had no appetite. There wasn’t anything I could do, except for cry. The crying, all the tears, they just happened. I couldn’t feel it, I wasn’t sad and there was nothing really to trigger it but there they were just doing their thing and I couldn’t really stop it. I thought my meds stopped working.
That’s my worst fear. I would have to start all over, searching for something that would keep me happy. That is what I kept venting to my mother, over and over. Looking for reassurance but all she could say was that I was a “tough cookie”. I didn’t feel like one. At least, I didn’t feel like a good one. Like a fresh M&M cookie from Insomnia but an oatmeal cookie with too much flour and it falls apart in your hands and when you try to eat it you just spit it out because, ugh, it just dries your mouth up. I just lost my appetite.
Thankfully, I was seeing my doctor the following day. Apparently, I’m just exhausted. Like, clinically exhausted.
I love getting up early, around 5 or 6 am. I think it’s the most romantic and intimate time in New York. The subways are surprisingly full before the 7 am lull. I have ample time for coffee before I cut myself off at noon. I am not, however, always falling asleep at an appropriate time to get those 7-9 hours of sleep.
Sleep deprivation is one of the worst things you could do for your mind and your body. Which makes sleeping the ultimate form of self-care. My workouts have become harder, not because of the intensity but because of the lack of sleep. When we don’t sleep well, we can’t fully recover from a workout. When we workout and we’re not fully recovered, the workout doesn’t really...work.
I have another week or so of late nights and early call times but a firmer grasp on how to make sure my body gets what it needs to perform like a human.
This is just a long reminder to sleep. It’s not fun having a worse-than-a-hangover headache at 1pm. So please, my babies, sleep. Prioritize your slumber.