Again, it’s been a while since I wrote. Life happens, days pass and time slips away. Even though every single day is chock full of stimulation and memories, there is also that which remains neglected. For me at times, it is writing. Which is very unfortunate.
Sleep takes a lot of my time. I take Clozapine, which is a very sedating drug. As a result, I sleep at minimum 9 hours a day, if not more. It has improved since before, ever since my psychiatrist suggested I take 3 Clozapine pills at night and 1 in the morning. But now I feel more tired throughout the day. For Labor Day weekend, namely Saturday and Sunday, I took big naps. I never take naps. While I enjoyed the luxurious rest, I also felt angry. I could be writing instead!
But really… if you want the bed and breakfast experience, all you have to do is take a nap. Much cheaper. Maybe I should change my sheets to some yellow shade with little flowers on it, if I really want to go B&B style. That actually might help me feel more rested. I’ve found that the little things we do for ourself, when accumulated, have the ability to make us happier. And also feel more control in our lives. I would decide to change my sheets. I decide what I choose to put on my walls. I decide to allow myself to take that nap. When I allow myself to make decisions like this, I grow more confident.
Wow, this is all over the place. Let’s return to the main point of this post: Not enough time in life.
For me, there has been another major change in my life. About 2 months ago, I joined a bootcamp gym in my neighborhood. It’s pretty expensive, but there is no comparison between this place and a regular gym. At this place, there are hour-long bootcamp classes where you get your butt handed to you. Finally, I feel like I have found my fitness home. I feel that this gym has the ability to bring me to my full athletic potential. There is always room to push harder in the workouts.
And yet that takes up a lot of time. Precious time that I’m not sure I have. I do the workouts, and then I have to go home. I don’t have a car either. Waiting for public transit, riding public transit… I wouldn’t say it’s stressful unless I’m stuck standing, although this doesn’t happen often. But still… when I get home, I’m not in the mood to write. I mean, sure I’ll write in my journal, pen against paper. But this is more akin to self-care and personal introspection. It has no professional bent to it.
I think that somehow, I have to trick my mind into thinking that work-related writing is recreational and relaxing to me. Then again, rest is so important. It can never be neglected. Because when I am a workaholic, it prevents me from enjoying the little things in life. Like enjoying the trees. Marveling at pigeons pecking at the sidewalk. Seeing the people around me, engaged in their work, walking down the street, going to their destinations.
A few months ago, Huffington Post allowed me to have a blog on their site, so that I can instantaneously post articles. I am happy that I have this opportunity, and yet I’m not writing as much as I’d like. Again… I’m tired. I’m also working on an article about NYC Crisis Respite Centers. I have to say, that journalistic articles are more difficult and time-consuming to write. I learn as I go, given that I don’t specifically have a bachelors in English or Journalism or whatnot. But I’m learning fast, nevertheless.
The problem with lack of sleep and overall fatigue of this sort, is that it serves to erase the mind of thought. Or at least it slows thoughts down. It also causes drowsiness, which is difficult to push through. Pushing through can even make it worse, I fear. It can cause headaches for me in my sinuses.
And then there is a third new component I’ve added into my life: Spirituality. After years and years of being burned by several religious practices, ranging from conservative Christianity to meditation under a guru in India, to spending thousands of dollars on bogus psychic services, it was apparent that I was seeking. Yet I was too mentally unwell to differentiate between the “spiritual ream” versus “reality.” I do really believe that some of those who experience profound mental illness attribute their symptoms to be a spiritual gift that connects them with a higher world. For me, I once was completely lost in this “realm,” to the point that I recognized everything happening to me to be “divine occurrences,” “meant to happen.” Everything had a subliminal messages, specifically for me and no one else.
Over the years, there has been only one spiritual healer who has helped me without hurting me in any way. He is a Reiki healer I’ve worked with since 2010. Recently, he has been involved in this new meditation practice, and so I feel that it is safe for me to do also. When I have setbacks, worries or fears, I talk to him about these and he helps me to become more grounded.
As drowsy as I am right now, I don’t want to give up these aspects of my life. I’m not giving up writing. I’m not giving up fitness. I’m not giving up spirituality. And it’s not the best idea for me to go off of my medications. But how do I manage? How do I keep going forward, without burning out?
Perhaps the pinnacle of tiredness is that which accompanies parenting. And I am not a parent, nor will I ever be. Taking this into consideration, “tired” is likely a natural part of life in the 21st century. Which still is not good, but alas, Reality. I hope I can pull through. Faith is all I have to keep me going. That, and friendship.
C’est la vie.