Sleep is such a funny thing… for me at least. I’m not sure if I have actual insomnia or if I just can’t sleep. Isn’t that the definition of insomnia? Let’s take a look.
Bingo! Nailed that one right on the fucking head! But WHY can’t I fall asleep? Is it because I spend my days in constant confusion about the racing thoughts in my own head and when I can finally slow them down enough to listen to one, maybe two, at a time I feel the need to ramp up the energy and be productive? Possibly.
ADHD is like that. I don’t have an official diagnosis (pending an appointment next week), but I was spot on with insomnia. I remember when I was a teacher several years ago, I had students with ADHD and I would always say I had it, too. I knew I had the energy of that damned energized bunny and couldn’t focus for shit, so I just assumed I was on the spectrum with them. And now? Now that I have been a one man business organization with all the time in the world (as in school hours, cause I’m not ever taking time away from my family for money again) to build and manage my business and have no structure, manage the finances and all the other shit in my home like cleaning, laundry, hauling my little broke best friends everywhere, and also being wife of the year… my mind is in constant disarray.
If, and when, I fall asleep and wake up the next morning, it’s like I have amnesia. Ever seen 50 First Dates? Hi, I’m Lucy Whitmore! I wake up every fucking morning and have no clue what day it is. I don’t know what I need to do that day. I don’t know the last time I brushed my hair. I don’t know the last time I showered. I am fucking Lucy Whitmore!
So how the hell do I get my sleep schedule back on track? Drug myself? Count sheep? Let my husband serenade me to sleep with the constant rumble of his snores? Negative! Instead I lose myself in a nightly rabbit hole of information overload in some never ending Instagram reels loop that will start to make me sleepy. Then I hit my vape for good measure, sip some water, and realize some of those snores are actually my rumbling belly. Cause guess what??? I forgot to EAT! Who the FUCK forgets to eat? Ummm… Lucy Fucking Whitmore is who! Guess what comes next? I turn into a ninja in the night and make a run for the kitchen to devour something that requires minimal energy to prepare. And back to the loop I go…
I have been researching Adult ADHD and Jesus H Christ! What am I in for? I’m only a 35 year old momrepreneur and the last thing I need is to relearn everything about myself. I’m sure you’re sitting there, phone in hand, thinking “how hard could it be?” Fucking IMPOSSIBLE! I feel like I need to take a year vacation solo-style and rediscover myself. Do I even like me? Have I been masking so long I’m that far gone? If this isn’t me, then who the fuck am I? And then I come back down from the wheel of agonizing thoughts. I am me. My family loves me. They are my safe space and I unmask when I am with them. But you know what I’ve noticed? My kids do the same! They are completely wild and free, like little feral cats, at home. Maybe not feral, but they are so true to their entire being when it’s just us, in our little corner of the world. And I love it so much!
Is it a good thing that I have unintentionally taught my children to hide their truest being when in the presence of outsiders? Or has that somehow turned them into little versions of me? Will they be so fucked up later in life because it is now normal to only show your truest self when you are surrounded by the ones that made you? Because if that’s the case, the entire world is missing out on how incredible these creations of mine are. Absolutely incredible!
I guess for now, I trust the process. The unknown. I drug myself of internet information each night. And I ramble on a blog in hopes that it will help someone else dealing with the fucked up thing we’ve ended up enduring.
Momma on a Mission 