Mornings are a BITCH

Dear Morning,

Why does the world revolve around you?
Why can’t I sleep until I’m no longer exhausted?
Or is that even possible?

Dear Morning,

Yes, on Saturday night, I thought it would be brilliant to take the 50mg trazadone tablet I had been prescribed 7 or 8 months ago. Oh that sucker knocked me OUT. And fast. I was barely able to brush my teeth before hitting my bed.

What I didn’t realize was that I’d also get scared. The particular drugged feelings brought me right back to pre-divorce when this was prescribed. I had vivid images in my head of sleeping in my parents’ TV room and all the things that were going on around me with my ex. I needed it gone from my head so I called and talked with “Joe” for a minute. Then I was asleep (quite early, might I add!).

I’d been planning to run away from my aunt and uncle’s place for Sunday, because of a faux pas that I felt made my aunt frustrated with me. Only, I never woke up. “Joe” called and tried to wake me. I don’t recall how long it took. Somehow I did eventually make it out of bed. I think he says I’d been asleep for 13 hours. I had a line of dried drool down one side of my face (must have happened in the first half of the night, when I still had a dry-mouth tablet pressed against one cheek).

So after much fumbling around, I did eventually manage to be away from home the rest of the day. I had a wicked headache and felt somewhat floaty for a long time.

Dear Morning,

You’d think after all that rest, your grip over me would have lessened for Monday? A little?!?!

“Joe” called me this morning around 7:50. That’s when my TaskRabbit used to call, before 2015 started. I cannot afford a TaskRabbit this month, plus she had stopped being effective in January because something changed in me mentally– I was no longer willing to get up before 11a. I was too damned tired.

Today? After 30 minutes of talking with “Joe”, I did get out of bed. All the way. I even put on slippers and a robe and went upstairs, took medicine and ate breakfast. My uncle asked how I was up. [Side note: I had managed to hit the wrong button on my primary alarm clock and flipped it off instead of snooze, and the back-up alarm turned out to be “off” when I thought it was “on”.]

“Come back to me, innerdragon! I miss you sooooo much! Look! I saved you a spot! And it’s still waaarm!”

Here’s where the problem begins. I went back to my room and hadn’t laid my clothes out the night before. On the other hand, was my bed, practically begging and pleading with me to crawl back inside. Or maybe I was the one begging and pleading. Next thing I know, two more hours have passed… And then I think one more? “Joe” called back when I was no longer responding >_<. Yeah, I owe him big time.

And I’m still so fucking tired.

So, Dear Morning, I did get up For Real then. It must have been 11a. I was happy, though. Then I did have to do the hard stuff– use the restroom, pick out clothes, get dressed, find my shoes, find whatever items I was going to bring (but not knowing exactly what I’m looking for), put some food into a container to bring. That’s when some extra trouble struck. I had picked out a glass Tupperware to use because the plastics are always relocated downstairs. And I’m lazy.

So I was asked to use plastic. So I went down but the dogs were hyped up and convinced I had come to Save them from lock-up and give them their breakfast. So of course I did. Which takes a little time. And I was stressing. I don’t know what all was in my thoughts until I started to fill up the one dish with warm water, and I “heard” one of my thoughts: “I don’t want to be alive.”

The FUCK?! It’s my own damn fault I’m running late, in trouble enough as is, and now choosing to be off task for the happy pups.

So, Dear Morning, I was standing out with the dogs to make sure Miss Piggy didn’t try to eat any of Mr Slow’s food, when my uncle found me and wondered wtf I was doing. He didn’t really yell much or express too much disappointment in my tardiness (he did a little), but it was there.

Oh my god there has got to be something that can help me in the mornings.

Dear Morning,

What have I got to do for you to be easier on me? Sacrifices? Offerings? Prayer? My firstborn child? You name it, whatever it is. ‘Cause this just ain’t working.