What a great family day weekend! I passed my first Valentine’s Day with my cherished fiancé, spending quality time together, a nice break from the wedding planning and moving fiasco that is my life right now.
We even re-arranged the furniture in the living room, smooshed the two identical loveseats together to form a sort of cuddle-fort. This was, I’m sure, my crowning achievement within and a boon to the décor world. The seats were never large enough to recline properly, and the coffee table served as a poor substitute for a footrest. But together, the loveseat-fort was a truly revolutionary and indulgent way to get in some quality cuddle time while watching an old classic comedy with my man.
I’d been looking forward to this break for some time, as it was to be the respite I’d been needing after many, many long nights of planning, moving, organizing, etc. Finally! A three-day weekend to recoup!
And it generally was, until Monday. Monday hated me.
Monday, I spent in the emergency ward with a dear close friend from out of town. Monday thought it was so awesome, it wanted me to stay awake until 4 am, trying to figure out how best to help and support this friend while maintain my commitments, like heading to work the next day.
Despite the long night, I’m proud to say that Monday didn’t get the best of me.
Tuesday day evening, I had some fun plans with girlfriends I hadn’t seen in some time. But because of Monday, I decided to stay home instead and rest. I wanted to take care of myself, and I know how important sleep is. (Even if I never recognized it as a child – kids just don’t get how awesome naptime is!)
But Tuesday had other ideas. Tuesday wanted to keep me awake ‘til after 1 am for no good reason whatsoever. I’m not particularly prone to insomnia, and when I can’t sleep, I don’t let it bother me too much – because that’s generally counter-productive anyway. So I let Tuesday be a jerk, and I rested as best I could. But the 6 am alarm came far too early.
Wednesday was simply maddening.
Not only had I not slept well for 2 nights, (after a whole season of not sleeping particularly well or plentifully) but now I also had evening commitments I really couldn’t ditch – or at least, I was quite reticent to do so.
Now, I was angry. I was so mad about my less-than-stellar sleep patterns that I had a terrible attitude all day. And it’s been a while since I’ve had a terrible attitude, so it was really noticeable on me!
I didn’t like it one bit.
But what could I do? I was so low on sleep, what other choice did I have but to be mad?
Until I realized that being mad and being sleep-deprived are completely separate and independent things. One does not follow from the other.
My being angry about the situation wasn’t a given; people get sleep deprived all of the time. Some even end up being happy about it! Think of excited people attending a music festival for a weekend. They hardly sleep the entire time, and yet they feel excited, elated even.
No, my being angry was a choice. It was also the real problem why Wednesday wasn’t as spectacular as it could have been. If I hadn’t been so grumpy, I would have had a great day on Wednesday. But instead, I ruined my own day. And that’s the truly maddening thing about it.
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