Lonely Stranger

Look, I am dealing with it. I am not happy about it, never will be but I am dealing with it. There are certain manifestations that are crippling. The latest one is exhaustion. It's not the type of tired where I'd 'rather' be in bed (who wouldn't 'rather' be in bed!); it is the type of exhaustion where I feel like I pulled two all-nighters in a row and I cannot keep my eyes open. Actually it's worse than that because I get loopy with all-nighters; I get this crazy, manic energy. I have none of that. Instead I have burning eyes that just want to close. I can't stop yawning and I want my bed. I keep stretching and cracking my neck, elbows and wrists. I just want to go home. I just want to go to sleep. It's like I'm not even here in the land of the living, of the awake, of the alert, of the "I need a cup of coffee and I'll be fine." Not me. No siree. I need a three hour nap. Then I'll be okay for about two hours. Then it'll come back. At first, a few weeks ago when this started I thought I was still recovering from the pneumonia. They say pneumonia's pretty serious. I guess it is. Especially the kind I had. But still. It's now been a month. And whenever I don't let myself sleep and try to push through the work day or a night out, obviously mistaking myself for December Briana, I start to feel the inklings of some sickness blooming. So I sleep. But the thing is the beast is never full. I can't seem to sleep enough. I am always tired and so tired that I can't leave my house. I end up eating random shit because even leaving the house to forage for food requires energy I don't have and can't muster.

Part of me loves this new ability to sleep. The real me is neither a napper nor a snoozer. Those have been two constants my entire life. I bound out of bed at the first sign of the alarm. When I share a room and the other person has to get up earlier than me, I usually end up staying up. But no more. Now I can nap. Napping is the most self-indulgent beautiful feeling ever. Sleeping during a work day feels like blowing off work and getting drunk; so wrong, yet so right, so restorative. Waking up hungry, eating and then going back to sleep like I got away with something. At first it felt like the missing link to my life. If I had only had this ability in high school when I used to sneak out at night and actually feign sick to get a cot in the nurse's office and catch up but could never relax my mind enough to nap. Or all of those hungover Saturdays where I had to go out for the second night in a row and wished I had been able to nap all day. Well now I can.

The flip side is that I can't seem to feed the beast. The more sleep I get, the more sleep I need. I know that I can't go out two days in a row. And I don't even mean going out like I used to go out. I can go out like I used to go out but it takes many early nights to recover. It's worth it once in a while. Even going out to dinner two nights in a row is too much. I fight it and I start to get sick. I give in to it and it's never enough. Last weekend I slept and I slept and I slept. It was unreal. I left work at 8:30pm on Friday night, got home at 9:00-ish and went to bed. Saturday I went to 10:00am yoga, brunch, Bloomingdale's and home to bed with plans to go out Saturday night. I woke up but just so I could text A and Liverpool and tell them that I had to go back to bed, that there was no way I could rally; I needed more sleep. And it's not like I am catching up on my sleep ever, I am perpetually tired no matter what. Catching up doesn't work. If I sleep all week, I will still need more on the weekend. If I work on Saturday and go out Saturday night which I plan on doing, Sunday will be a complete wash, even if I do stay in Friday night which I hope to do even though I slept all afternoon yesterday even though I stopped setting an alarm so I can allow myself to get as much sleep as my body needs, Sunday will be a complete wash.

The other flip side is how ridiculous this must sound. I don't want people to think that I am using my illness as an excuse not to do anything. It must seem like I am. Especially since if I can't keep up with the manifestations of it, how should I expect them to. Especially since if I still feel like a visitor on this island, still getting acclimated to the time zone, the weather and dress code, how can I expect them to understand where I am coming from when I come to them with excuses I've never used, saying things I've never said. I hate it. I hate it. I wonder if they think I'm a big wuss or worse if I am lying.

Tired as an excuse. It's never been one I've used or recognized. It's been one I've scoffed at when other people used it. You're only tired? So you're not sick. Come on. Get a few drinks in you, you'll be fine. But this is another animal entirely. This is the newest installment of Briana's Reality Show. It's like the annoying neighbor. Hopefully he'll leave soon. Actually I am sure he will. For a few months there, I had such bad insomnia that I was lucky to sleep for four hours a night. Wild, right? And now I can't keep my eyes open. They are so tired they hurt. This is the lonliness. This is where I wish there was some sick/well dictionary I could hand out so people would get where I am coming from and I wouldn't be stuck with my uncooperative body giving people this ridiculous tired excuse as a reason why I can't eat dinner with them. My relationship with my body has degenerated to the point where she completely ignores me and just does her own thing without my consent or consideration. She doesn't care about my job, my relationships, my goals. She doesn't care about me. Yet I am stuck with her. And we so don't get along.