Sunday, April 22, 2012

The agitation of fans

My early morning company.

By 6:00 I had enough of the fan and I had to get up. The current it generated had been scratching away at my skin all night. I have a thing about fans, both their noise (if there is one) and the agitation of the "fake" air on my skin. Scratchy, sand paper-yuck. Give me an open window, a natural breeze any night; any kind of humming fan or constant, unyielding man-made blast of air is bane to my existence. Our ceiling fan in our bedroom is completely silent, and I can tolerate it for E on hot nights so the air in our room doesn't grow stagnant, but only if 90% of my skin is shielded from the direct flow of air. Invariably, though, as I toss and turn I stick out a leg or an arm or an ear. By morning I feel like someone has been harassing me all night.

So I'm up and it's not 6:30 yet.

It's probably just as well, anyway.  My insides are just as agitated as my skin and I wasn't sleeping.  It's been seven nights in a row of anxiety dreams.  Seven.  No matter what I take or eat or drink or watch or meditate on before I sleep, I wake up in a cold sweat sometime in the neighborhood of 3:00 and 5:00 AM because my brain is re-imagining new metaphors for the anxieties I'm tamping down all day.  Lost airplane tickets and ID.  Crumbling buildings.  Imminent danger for my children.  Wandering alone, lost.  The real anxieties I'm avoiding in the daytime are nothing I can't overcome, but I know they can't be overcome yet, which is one of my least favorite time-frames.  Life is a-changin' and though I know it will be fine, I'm not feeling confident about how.  Yet.  See, there it is again.  For all my big talk about being a grownup, some of the principles still escape me, like patience.

I don't like change, either. I'm not sure we humans really do, but I'm sure there are a few that handle it better than me. Even when I handle it all day, my brain rebels and keeps me up nights.

But anyway.  On top of that is just normal end-of-the-year stuff. Normally I get the May Crazies in the last month before school is out. This year school is out mid-May, so May Crazy showed up for April. Last year I had an important moment when I realized that teachers live different iterations of the same year over and over again, and the same frustrations. I was able to let go of trying to "fix" May Crazy and just let it pass. There hasn't been a May (or, April, now) since I've started teaching that I haven't just wanted to curl up into the fetal position for one reason or another. Now I just look at that and go okay, we're almost done.

Other stuff from this week (since I didn't feel like writing much until today):
Wednesday baseball game (with the boy, who now has his cast off but shouldn't really play for 4 more weeks. i.e. the end of the season)
Standardized testing at school
Grading, grading, and more grading
A wee bit o' poetry-writing
Drinkin' with friends on a hot patio, Friday
Melted cats laying on stuff
Saturday baseball game under the heat of a thousand fiery suns
Date night with E: more patio-drinkin'


1 comment:

  1. I can't stand the fan either! It makes me itchy unless I have a sheet or something over me.