at 3 AM. It seems a pattern has emerged where I wake up every morning at 3 AM. I'm not liking this early wake-up call because I generally can't sleep well after I get up. So, I'm going to do something useful and then try and go back to sleep for a while.
I've been in a pretty major funk for the last few weeks. I managed to slide through Christmas with a pasted smile on my face, but it was hard. It takes all my energy to get up in the morning, get the kids off to wherever they need to be, and get myself to school or work. Luckily, I'm off work this week, so I've mostly just sat on the couch eating peanut butter M&Ms and watching TV (anything that makes me cry is a plus). This is the first Christmas season that this has ever happened to me.
You see, I'm haunted by memories. I dream about old friends and old family, then I wake up at 3 AM and can't shake the dream and the people stick in my mind for the rest of the night/morning. It started with my Grandpa Walf, who died during my first leave from my ship in 1996. That's freakin' 14 years ago and he still haunts my dreams as if I saw him yesterday. It's gone on to other people that are out of my life now and I spend the hours of 3-7 AM thinking about those I've dreamed about and not going back to sleep.
I'm not kidding you -- this has been one of the worst down periods of my life. I literally have to force myself out of bed and I worry that one day I won't be able to do that, either.
The good news? I started back on Pristiq about a week ago and I've been feeling slightly more confident as the days go on. Hopefully, within another week, the effect will be more pronounced and I'll be able to get out and about with more vigor, instead of doing the basics just to get through the day. Like Frank said last night, I've been on "auto pilot" for the last couple of weeks, and it sucks. I want to do so much more, but lack the energy to do anything. Pristiq worked wonders before and I trust that it'll do it again and I just have to give it time to work.
I know from experience that these periods won't last forever, though it often feels like forever at the time. And it does feel like forever now...
Showing posts with label memories. Show all posts
Showing posts with label memories. Show all posts
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Holiday Bonus
I'm continuing my commitment to "Mad House" -- a sort of group posting on a topic of the day -- with this post.
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Growing up, the entire family spent Christmases in Florida at my Grandma and Grandpa's house. My Aunt and Uncle flew in from Oregon, my Aunt and cousin flew in from Boston, and we, my parents, brother and I, drove from N. Louisiana. It was a 3-day trip because my Mom gets gruesomely carsick, so we would stop each night at a hotel to give her a break. We always knew we were getting close when we started seeing nothing but orange trees for miles and miles. We knew that when those orange groves stopped, we'd be at Stuart, Florida and ready for the big Christmas that we loved so much.
My Grandpa was the son of poor Swedish immigrants and spoke Swedish fluently, though spoke English just as well having been born in this country. He was the man who taught us how to laugh, as he was the most humor-filled man I have ever met. I think, like many immigrant sons, he needed that humor to balance his home life with the life outside. He was a brilliant pianist and I have no shortage of memories of standing around the piano singing Christmas carols. Uncle David played the flute and would join in, as well as my brother, Tony, who played the trombone. The year I played French Horn, I played along as well. Grandma believed in hot lunches, with the occasional sandwich lunch thrown in. Everyone brought a treat of some kind, and we never, EVER missed cocktail hour.
The memories of Christmases past is filled with laughter, music, and the smell of food.
So, it's appropriate this year that these memories, my holiday bonus, overwhelm me as we get closer to Christmas because this is the first Christmas in close to 20 years that we will gather together again -- this time here in my town -- and celebrate with each other. After my grandparents died, and my brother and I went to build our own families, we stopped our yearly Christmas gathering. Frank and I celebrated on our own, and then got together at either my parents' house or my brothers' house on the way to his family Christmas. Tony celebrated with his in-laws, and my parents would have a small Christmas here before heading to Tony's, followed by flying out to Oregon to meet up with my aunts and uncle. We've gone our separate ways, for the most part, in the last 20 years, creating new traditions and mingling the old within, but this year will be a throwback to the old, sans piano and sans Grandma and Grandpa. But I long to give my kids a taste of a big family Christmas. Because they're the only grandchildren, they will get to revel in the attention and the presents, while I get to relive childhood memories. A holiday bonus, indeed.
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Growing up, the entire family spent Christmases in Florida at my Grandma and Grandpa's house. My Aunt and Uncle flew in from Oregon, my Aunt and cousin flew in from Boston, and we, my parents, brother and I, drove from N. Louisiana. It was a 3-day trip because my Mom gets gruesomely carsick, so we would stop each night at a hotel to give her a break. We always knew we were getting close when we started seeing nothing but orange trees for miles and miles. We knew that when those orange groves stopped, we'd be at Stuart, Florida and ready for the big Christmas that we loved so much.
My Grandpa was the son of poor Swedish immigrants and spoke Swedish fluently, though spoke English just as well having been born in this country. He was the man who taught us how to laugh, as he was the most humor-filled man I have ever met. I think, like many immigrant sons, he needed that humor to balance his home life with the life outside. He was a brilliant pianist and I have no shortage of memories of standing around the piano singing Christmas carols. Uncle David played the flute and would join in, as well as my brother, Tony, who played the trombone. The year I played French Horn, I played along as well. Grandma believed in hot lunches, with the occasional sandwich lunch thrown in. Everyone brought a treat of some kind, and we never, EVER missed cocktail hour.
The memories of Christmases past is filled with laughter, music, and the smell of food.
So, it's appropriate this year that these memories, my holiday bonus, overwhelm me as we get closer to Christmas because this is the first Christmas in close to 20 years that we will gather together again -- this time here in my town -- and celebrate with each other. After my grandparents died, and my brother and I went to build our own families, we stopped our yearly Christmas gathering. Frank and I celebrated on our own, and then got together at either my parents' house or my brothers' house on the way to his family Christmas. Tony celebrated with his in-laws, and my parents would have a small Christmas here before heading to Tony's, followed by flying out to Oregon to meet up with my aunts and uncle. We've gone our separate ways, for the most part, in the last 20 years, creating new traditions and mingling the old within, but this year will be a throwback to the old, sans piano and sans Grandma and Grandpa. But I long to give my kids a taste of a big family Christmas. Because they're the only grandchildren, they will get to revel in the attention and the presents, while I get to relive childhood memories. A holiday bonus, indeed.
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