Posts Tagged ‘sleep deprivation’

Almost There!

December 10, 2015

I said to her tonight and gave her a big hug.

She looked a little glassy eyed with sleep deprivation.

She, the woman with whom I was commiserating, is a third year graduate school student at the same school I am in.

This is her last push.

She finishes this weekend and she will have her Master’s degree.

Granted we are in different programs.

And different years.

But the feelings were the same.

Come on you can do it!

I actually got a little sick to my stomach when she described what she had to do to finish with her program.

Then I thought.

Not my program, my program may be very different when I get to my third year.

Oh.

And yeah, haha, I’m still in my first and I’m doing ok.

In fact.

I am doing fucking awesome!

I got back my fourth reflection paper grade from my Human Development class.

Here are some of the comments:

Amazing and brave. It is so life-affirming to read your journey.

Beautifully descriptive narrative imagery, Carmen.

Grade: A

Great essay!

There was more, but, um, haha, no need to toot my own horn.

Besides.

What I am more thrilled about is that I am off the hook for writing the third optional paper.

Unless I fall flat on my fucking face in class with my final presentation project, I will get an “A” in the course.

Small happy dance of joy.

And back to the blog.

The other thing, that I just acknowledged in a phone call with my person, I have done the work.

I mean.

For the first time all semester, I am completely up on all my reading.

I did it all.

I finished it all.

I read it all.

ALL OF IT.

I am that person.

I am even re-reading a little of it before class on Friday because I can and I will need to have a better grasp of my Psychoanalytic readings to be able to write the last paper for the class.

Oh.

I liked typing that.

The last paper for the class.

I have tentative dinner plans to celebrate with a friend on Sunday.

I’m going to give my friend the biggest hug ever.

Ever, ever?

Ever.

I remember the warmth of congratulations given to me when he heard about my getting into the program and also when I shared about my scholarship news.

I feel like I have had this friend in my pocket, like an ace up my sleeve, helping me, giving me rides to class, grabbing me coffees before class, helping me grocery shop, so many things.

Probably too many to recount here.

But I wrote them all out this morning in my journal, my morning pages, my morning routine.

It just poured out, this river of gratitude for the gifts I have received.

There are so many.

Countless.

I have also received unexpected gifts from the school program.

The first being the simple acknowledgement that I belong where I am, that I am on the right path, even if I’m not certain exactly where it is going, that I am talented and smart and capable and can do the work.

The next is the surprising friendships I have struck up with women who I never would have met otherwise, and who I cannot imagine moving forward without in my life.

So very graced.

So blessed.

I have school “girl” friends!

I mean.

Heh.

I almost just blushed with that.

I am so pleased.

Happy.

Loved.

I feel loved.

I know that sounds silly, but I have new girl friends and that makes my heart happy and I know that I will have them always in my life.

Maybe not under the exact same circumstances, we won’t always be in school, but I know, they will always be in my life.

Such gifts.

A wealth.

An abundance.

Then.

I was thinking of a group of girlfriends.

Sort of my first group of solid out in the real world girl friends.

How they got out and ahead and I somehow faltered and fell behind.

It’s not much of a secret what happened.

I fell down into the selfish hell hole of my addiction and the narrow parameters of living a lie coupled with a complete inability to be a friend to anyone, not myself, not another human being, in any true manner of the word, and of course, my friends left me.

Out paced me.

Out grew me.

Said, hey, “I love you, but I can’t be a part of this anymore.”

“I’m done.”

That hurt.

But it hurt in a way that it sunk home.

Of course, it didn’t stop me.

I still kept on.

Not for much longer though.

Of those three girlfriends I am in touch with just one.

Nurse.

Public Relations maven.

Lawyer.

Nanny.

Which one of these is not like the other?

I realize today, as I was getting ready for work and did a quick scroll on facecrack and saw one of those ladies post a life event (we are still all connected on social media) that I have finally, almost, not quite, but kind of getting there, catching up to them.

They all have Masters degrees, law degrees, nursing degrees.

They are smart capable women, all with children and husbands and careers.

I’m the weirdo.

Single, tattooed, artist, Burning Man attendee, bicycle commuting, pink hair, sometimes in a faux hawk or studded with fake flowers, odd duck who lives in San Francisco.

Or I can flip it and say I am a powerful, realized, self-acknowledged, hard working, graduate school student, who works full time as a professional nanny (a job that I would not have gotten without my undergrad degree, fyi, not for the money I’m making as a nanny), who has overcome what on the outside looked like insurmountable poverty, neglect, trauma, physical abuse, abandonment, stress, PTSD, clinical depression, rape, incest, being stalked–to getting sober, writing a book, no not just a book, but three manuscripts about those aforementioned “misadventures,” being published in Paris, blogging for five plus years, being a world traveler, having love and friends and community in abundance around me.

I am more actualized and realized than I ever was.

More authentically me.

So.

It took me a little longer to get here.

“I wish you a long, slow recovery,” she said wisely.

What the hell does that mean?  I thought, but hugged her back.

I know now.

And I am so utterly.

Completely.

Inexhaustibly.

Grateful.

Beyond words.

So grateful.

I ache with it.

Ache.

But in a very good way.

The kind of way that tells me I am exactly where I am supposed to be.

Happy.

Joyous.

Free.

No Shoes, No Shirt, No Service

July 3, 2015

So how about.

No bras.

No elastic bands.

No dental floss.

No idea what I was on when I was packing.

“Seriously, Martines,” I said aloud to myself as I finished unloading the contents of my rolling suitcase–a rolling suitcase that I hope makes it through the weekend and back to San Francisco.

It’s time for an upgrade.

I have had it for much longer than I realized when I looked back and recounted all the trips it has gone on with me, beginning with my return to Paris, sober, in 2007.

I have had it for 8 years, that’s a good stretch.

And I know how to pack it, I can get a lot of stuff in it and be jamming out the door fairly quick.

in fact, when I was done with my packing last night I still had 45 minutes before I had to leave for the airport and really, that was also giving myself a generous amount of wiggle room to get through the gate and to be on time for the plane.

Not that it mattered, considering how long we sat on the runway.

And, fyi, this blog may come out strange, discombobulated, unhinged a teensy tiny bit.

I have not had much sleep.

In fact, barely any at all.

I am going to sleep so hard in my great big king size bed.

Yup.

I’m in my own room, with my own bathroom and bed and though I had not planned on dropping the big cash (and it’s not too bad, really $360 for the three nights) I am happy and grateful to have a quiet place to rest my head and to collect myself.

I am also in a perfect place location wise.

Just outside of the conference grounds enough to not feel like I am in the noise and the ruckus and yet, close enough I can walk there in a bout fifteen to twenty minutes.

Although this evening when I ventured out I took the complete opposite direction of what the navigation on my phone told me and I was so certain I was right it took me 45 minutes to walk the 18 minute route.

Oops.

I didn’t mind so much though, I got some great shots on my phone and I was happy to play photographer during the pretty early evening light and to be traipsing about in my light summer dress, my sleeveless summer dress.

It’s actually summer here and not quite as bad as I thought it would be.

I am handling the heat and the humidity pretty well.

The lack of clothing and toiletries options not withstanding.

I really don’t know what had my brain pre-occupied that I missed completely putting bras in my suitcase.

I mean, come on.

That was the discovery that prompted the out loud scolding earlier.

However, I got over it pretty fast and was grateful I have the one I am wearing and it’s my favorite and it’s black, so it will go with most of my things anyhow, but it was annoying to discover that I had over packed panties and completely spaced my bras.

I had also spaced hair elastics.

Something I never do and I couldn’t even locate one in my lip gloss bag, where I usually have one or two squirreled away.

No pigtails for me.

Which is too bad, pigtails would rock with the dress i have planned for tomorrow, or even braids.

Ah well.

And the dental floss.

That was just a fluke, I used the last without realizing how little I had left.

I suppose a run on a pharmacy will fix the majority of those things.

All except the bras.

That’s a bummer.

But, in the scheme of things, in the rough out line of my day, really nothing to be even a little bent out of shape over.

I had a great day.

I ran into someone I know from Paris.

That was awesome, and he handily pulled my suitcase around for me while I took care of getting my registration lanyard and paperwork.

I had lunch with three of my lady friends.

One of whom happens to be the lady who came to my rescue when I was in Anchorage last December and drove me all over the place and was basically the person who kept me tethered to the planet and able to do the work I needed to do to show up for my dad.

I cannot, side bar, believe I am still writing, it’s beginning to feel like an odd surreal painting of someone typing words, I’m so removed I’m sleeping on the couch.

THere’s a couch in the room too.

It’s a really big room.

It could have held three people quite comfortably–two in the big bed and another on the couch.

But, as I said, more than happy to have my own chill quiet, calm space.

I need it.

I got a little lost in the crowds today and at one point felt terribly alone, funny that, horribly alone, despite being surrounded by thousands of like-minded folks.

I was dressed up after having taken an exquisite achingly hot shower and washing and shaving and doing up my hair, lots of flowers.

You can take the girl out of San Francisco, but you can’t take the flowers out of her hair.

I milled around the convention center and when the band, a really good band, an astoundingly good band, when I recall other such dances (though none as heavily attended) that I have gone to over the last ten plus years, played “I Had The Time of My Life” I got stupid.

Yeah.

Shut up.

I got sad listening to a Dirty Dancing cover song.

Yup.

Because that is where my disease will take me, sappy land, with no one around, yet thousands present, lonely, though so not alone, and a bit maudlin.

Really.

A dearth of bras is not that bad.

Feeling lonely in the middle of thousands of people is horror though.

I muddled through, I turned back twice, then made myself go and approach the dance floor, the music was good and so what if I didn’t know anyone.

I would by the end of the evening.

And when I least expected, I did run into a friend I haven’t seen in two years.

We danced like fools.

I danced the self-pity away and ended the evening surrounded by amazing women and sweet friends.

I sweated off a pants size and got my self hoarse singing along to the band.

Then.

A late night dinner–ham and cheese omelet and a side of fruit–in a 24 hour diner downtown.

I had come full circle.

And another friend pinged me and joined me for a last-minute conversation before we both called it a night.

There is much to do tomorrow.

And sleep must to be had.

I can go without the proper undergarments a few more days.

But I need my sleep.

So, with that.

I bid you adieu.

Good night.

Aufviederschoen.

Good bye.

To you, and you, and you.

Big ol’ hugs from Atlanta.

I’ll keep you abreast, though braless, of further adventures.

Real soon.

Like after I sleep 18 hours.

OH Wow

August 14, 2013

That’s even longer than I thought.

I sat and talked out some more logistics with the families today, three days until I leave.

Three!

Mostly I just wanted to get a sense of when I was going to be coming back to the city so that I could also juggle some arranging of moving out to the studio.

You know, like I really need something else to occupy my time with.

Jesus lord.

And a side bar I may or may not get back to, cute flirt from Paris Skype days sent me a message, hey, I’m in town until Saturday, would love to see you.

Hey, could you have given me a forewarning?

Maybe I would have cleared out some time.

You should have seen the wheels click clack turning in my brain when I was on BART heading back to Oakland, you’re in the city?

Damn it man.

Can I get laid before I leave for Burning Man?

And maybe there was a reason I bought a new vibrator today.

Ok.

Ok.

Too much information, but it’s true.

How in the world can I squeeze in a date before I leave?

Giggle.

When it rains it pours, what else can we squeeze in?

And the thing is, I would totally go to work, head to playa, traffic all my stuff here and there and to gladly make out with this man, hands down, I don’t mind the sleep deprivation, it’s been too long, damn it Janet.

Ok.

This blog, already out in space, already off track.

Oh.

Wow.

Yeah, that’s right, I was realizing how long I am going to be out on playa.

I know they said three weeks, but I don’t think my brain was registering it despite my mouth saying it.

Mom told me today that there’s not a hard and fast set day they are leaving, but it’s most likely the Friday after the event.

AFTER.

That means the 6th.

Then another over night stay in Reno to hose off the dust before hauling it back to San Francisco.

I won’t land in SF until the 7th or the 8th, possibly.

I’m going to need a day or two to get my wits back together.

Then I will be moving out to the in-law.

I can’t even fathom how that is all going to suss out.

Thing is, it doesn’t matter.

Nothing really matters right now.

Just getting the blog up and posted and having a little wind me down snack and a cup of tea.

That and a late sleep in.

I don’t have to be at work until 2 p.m. tomorrow afternoon.

That is nice.

Today I left for work, in Cole Valley, at 7:40 a.m.

I got back from work at 10:50 p.m.

That is a long day.

Three charges.

Fortunately for me they all had naps.

They all staggered them as well.

Sometimes that sucks, as you don’t get the opportunity to sit down on your own and rest, but today, it just all really flowed smoothly.

Even when my little girl got dropped off and she was having a really hard time, way past her sleep time, way late nap and way over tired.

Over tired has to be the worst.

Maybe over tired and teething.

There was some sobbing.

Not crying.

Sobbing.

Which caused the youngest baby some distress and he started to sympathy wail.

Two howling babies, one baby napping.

Run.

Run for your life.

I hustled them upstairs to make sure that there was quiet space between the screams and wails so that the other would not wake up.

I managed to get situated in the upstairs nursery and get out some books, fyi, if you’ve got a kid’s gift to get, grab the book “Grumpy Bird” freaking awesome.

We snuggle down into the chair, the baby on a throw blanket on the floor, my little girl in my lap, we read four books, I sang her a lullaby, we fed her baby (she got a new baby doll, so cute!) and I snuggled her to sleep.

Then off to warm the bottle and do the same for the youngest.

Who, unfortunately, was then off his game, but oh well.

With two down, one was not so hard to manage, and he’s the easiest in some ways as he does not move yet.

Yet.

But man, he is close, he’s so close to crawling, and when crawling happens, all bets are off.

And everything is open for little baby paws to get into.

He’ll be crawling by Burning Man.

I realized saying good-bye to the mom today that I wouldn’t see her until I was at the event.

That was spooky.

It still feels really far away.

Even though it is so close I can taste the dusty.

I have a friend who I met in Paris get a hold of me who is trying to get out there, I may have found him a ticket, or at least I introduced him to someone, via Facecrack, that has one with a camp I first went out with, Stella.

My first Burning Man camp.

They are actually camped pretty darn close to me this year, or I to them, they’re in the same place, I’m the one who’s going to be moving.

OH.

And in case you get out there and want to see me I will be camped at 8:45 and C, behind Artica near the main Ranger station in the 9 o’clock keyhole.

That’s gobbedly gook for most of you, but the ones who know, you know.

Otherwise I will be making my way pretty daily over to Anonymous Village at 8p.m.

I hear there may be some impromptu fellow shipping happening in that neighborhood pre-event.

Anywho.

Time to go watch So You Think You Can Dance.

And check my messages for possible coffee dates.

Like I got the time.

But you know I’ll make the time.

Yes I will.


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