Scott and I have had a busy Spring Break, especially since neither of us are actually taking a break. I'm still teaching at my other college that will have a later break, and we're both doing a ton of researching and writing for our semester projects and papers. Just once, I wish I could have a decent vacation. But, I am grateful for a week off of school and tutoring, and I just hope that I can get everything done in time to at least enjoy the weekend a tiny bit. I think I'm going to get a massage. :)
My research is really interesting right now. I'm working on reading a series of New England Puritan sermons from about 1650-1750. I'm tracing the metaphor of death as sleep through these sermons and trying to form some of my own conclusions about how the Puritan settlers' ideas of both death and sleep were changing as a result of these publications. There's a really fascinating dichotomy that I've found in the way they talk about the death of believers as a kind of sleep, while the death of the unholy was a restless prison. I am hoping that--eventually, and after much more research--I'll be able to make some connections between Puritan beliefs of death and sleep and my former Gothic lit arguments of sleep as a fragment of death. I would love to write my dissertation on sleep in British literature, and I'm glad I was able to find something in this American History seminar that at least tangentially relates to my interests. I only wish I didn't have to read my sleep sermons in Special Collections! They have so few hours, and it's impossible to get comfortable and settle in with a book.
On the other side of things, I'm working on a text edit of Shakespeare's Henry V, reading many books all at the same time, grading rather large stacks of essays, and trying to keep my many employers happy.
In my meager spare time (or as the Puritans would write, my meagere sparre Tyme), I'm thinking about how crazy this summer will be since we have two weddings in Texas to go to (be in?) and we are also taking a trip with my sister, her hubby, and their toddler to Tennessee and Georgia. I am soooo psyched for this trip! But, I can't think about it toooo much right now or else I won't want to do any work at all.
Love to the fam. <3 KB
Showing posts with label sleep. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sleep. Show all posts
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Because it helps to talk about it
Since December, I've been having a racing heart. I don't know how to describe it other than feeling like my heart is beating out of control--like I've been surprised or scared, except it hasn't slowed down. This happened a few times while I lived in Lubbock, and it seemed very worrisome to me at the time, but it would go away after 5 or 6 hours each time. This time, it hasn't gone away.
So, I went to the doctor and had my blood pressure checked out. Sure enough, I was right. My heart didn't just feel incredibly fast, it was incredibly fast. The average person's heart beats about 60-100 beats a minute, depending on what they are doing (it's sometimes much higher if they are exercising). Mine was monitored over the course of about an hour, and it was around 100 the whole time. A tiny bit lower, at one point. It's not too good, he said, if it never slows down. My average should be around 80, not 100. However, the dr. said it was not too out of range to get worried, so he didn't feel like he should rush me to a cardiologist. Instead, he did an EKG that measures the electrical activity of my heart, and my heartbeat looks normal. There were no extra beats or in-between activity that would make him worry.
They did other tests to check everything else out that could make my heart go crazy, but everything checked out normal. Everything except for my adrenaline levels, which were sky high. So, that's the culprit of my racing heart.
For some reason my body is pumping extra adrenaline because something is telling my brain that it needs it. The doctor said that I'm either scared by something or scaring myself, worrying constantly, or putting irrational and unhealthy pressure on myself. OR, my brain is tricking itself into thinking these things. OR, any combination of these things are causing "fight or flight" signals in the brain which speed the production of adrenaline...
There were so many possibilities, but I'm guessing it's a combination of school/job/ worry, not enough sleep, and a million irrational stressors attacking my brain and body. Whatever it is, it is putting my body in sprint mode for marathon lengths. One 10-second little worry (like merging onto the freeway, for example) will set my body into making enough adrenaline for days. That, in turn, causes an anxiety attack and leaves my head reeling, feeling panicky, worried, and generally stressed out. Not the "I have a paper due" kind of stress. (Because I always have a paper due. I will always have a paper due.) It’s more like "the world's going to explode" kind of stress. Hence the crazy heartbeat for over two months now.
I don't know what set me off, but something happened to my body or brain in December to make me sick. The doctor thinks that therapy will calm me down, or at least give me a "safe place" to let out what goes through my brain that could potentially cause one of these anxiety attacks. My psychiatrist thinks that my illness has probably been a long time in the making, due to my “perfectionist, self-induced worry complex.” Hmmm…am I crazy? No, not at all. Just extremely over-worked, over-stressed, and under-rested. Nothing that a little graduating in two years with my Ph.D. won’t cure. In the meantime, I’m supposed to take deep breaths, relax, and keep telling myself, “it’s okay, you’re okay, you’re okay, you’re okay” whenever I feel panic coming on. Surprisingly, it’s actually helping.
You know what else is helping? Prayer. Real prayer. Real worship. Time spent not thinking about anything else other than something omnipresent and omnipowerful. It’s amazing how healthy my heart feels when I envision my Lord holding it, protecting it, and calming it down. Calming me down. This might not make sense to everyone out there, but—dear reader—it makes sense to me.
So, I went to the doctor and had my blood pressure checked out. Sure enough, I was right. My heart didn't just feel incredibly fast, it was incredibly fast. The average person's heart beats about 60-100 beats a minute, depending on what they are doing (it's sometimes much higher if they are exercising). Mine was monitored over the course of about an hour, and it was around 100 the whole time. A tiny bit lower, at one point. It's not too good, he said, if it never slows down. My average should be around 80, not 100. However, the dr. said it was not too out of range to get worried, so he didn't feel like he should rush me to a cardiologist. Instead, he did an EKG that measures the electrical activity of my heart, and my heartbeat looks normal. There were no extra beats or in-between activity that would make him worry.
They did other tests to check everything else out that could make my heart go crazy, but everything checked out normal. Everything except for my adrenaline levels, which were sky high. So, that's the culprit of my racing heart.
For some reason my body is pumping extra adrenaline because something is telling my brain that it needs it. The doctor said that I'm either scared by something or scaring myself, worrying constantly, or putting irrational and unhealthy pressure on myself. OR, my brain is tricking itself into thinking these things. OR, any combination of these things are causing "fight or flight" signals in the brain which speed the production of adrenaline...
There were so many possibilities, but I'm guessing it's a combination of school/job/ worry, not enough sleep, and a million irrational stressors attacking my brain and body. Whatever it is, it is putting my body in sprint mode for marathon lengths. One 10-second little worry (like merging onto the freeway, for example) will set my body into making enough adrenaline for days. That, in turn, causes an anxiety attack and leaves my head reeling, feeling panicky, worried, and generally stressed out. Not the "I have a paper due" kind of stress. (Because I always have a paper due. I will always have a paper due.) It’s more like "the world's going to explode" kind of stress. Hence the crazy heartbeat for over two months now.
I don't know what set me off, but something happened to my body or brain in December to make me sick. The doctor thinks that therapy will calm me down, or at least give me a "safe place" to let out what goes through my brain that could potentially cause one of these anxiety attacks. My psychiatrist thinks that my illness has probably been a long time in the making, due to my “perfectionist, self-induced worry complex.” Hmmm…am I crazy? No, not at all. Just extremely over-worked, over-stressed, and under-rested. Nothing that a little graduating in two years with my Ph.D. won’t cure. In the meantime, I’m supposed to take deep breaths, relax, and keep telling myself, “it’s okay, you’re okay, you’re okay, you’re okay” whenever I feel panic coming on. Surprisingly, it’s actually helping.
You know what else is helping? Prayer. Real prayer. Real worship. Time spent not thinking about anything else other than something omnipresent and omnipowerful. It’s amazing how healthy my heart feels when I envision my Lord holding it, protecting it, and calming it down. Calming me down. This might not make sense to everyone out there, but—dear reader—it makes sense to me.
Friday, January 23, 2009
...and everything yule in between
Scott and I had a wild time rushing home to Texas and back during Christmas. Our time there was short but much appreciated and much blessed, and we wish we could have stayed longer. The trip consisted of leaving a day and a half late because of schoolwork, not completing said schoolwork, getting 1/3 of the way there only to run into icy and blizzardy conditions between Kingman and Flagstaff, having to turn south and backtrack to Phoenix to I-10, finding out that we did the right thing because I-40 was closed and not opened until Christmas eve, driving around lost for half an hour trying to find our downtown Phoenix motel and then realizing it hadn't been our fault because we had been given the wrong address, staying in a freezing room with an old run-down heater that konked out about 5 minutes after we arrived, waking up after far too few hours of sleep to drive all the way through Arizona, New Mexico, and Texas to get home late on Christmas Eve-eve.
THEN finding out after hearing a horrible sound driving home from my sister's on Christmas day that the so-called "oil" in my oil reservoir was actually transmission fluid (thanks for that, mechanics who did the last oil change, we really appreciate finding this out AFTER driving 2000 miles in inclement weather, you could have been the death of us and my little trooper car, Priscilla Paige O'Dell-Strovas).
$$ later and a merry Christmas and Happy New Year to all, we said sad goodbyes to our families (the hardest for me was saying bye to my sister). We drove home (only having to break into one relative's house for a place to stay on the way home--btw, sorry about that). We made it back to California, obviously stopping at In-N-Out Burger on the way into town because we had been without it for two weeks, and then started an intensive French course one day later. TWO weeks, $500, and 30 in-class hours later, Scott and I had both passed our French reading exams after never having studied French in our lives until 2009. (we're awesome, did I mention?) I can't speak more than 10 phrases in French, but boy can I read it!
I started teaching again in the midst of French craziness, but we didn't start our own classes until this week. Technically, both of my classes were cancelled this week, so I don't start until next week. I am excited to start my third job soon. That's right, this semester I have taken on three jobs in addition to my own coursework and trying to pass another language exam (this time, it's Latin). I'm nervous but equally excited, and I'm ready for the challenge. So, if you see me in the next few weeks and wonder why school just started and I already look exhausted, crazy-eyed, on the verge of tears or insanity...it's okay. It's just me. C'est la vie. Hugs help. :)
THEN finding out after hearing a horrible sound driving home from my sister's on Christmas day that the so-called "oil" in my oil reservoir was actually transmission fluid (thanks for that, mechanics who did the last oil change, we really appreciate finding this out AFTER driving 2000 miles in inclement weather, you could have been the death of us and my little trooper car, Priscilla Paige O'Dell-Strovas).
$$ later and a merry Christmas and Happy New Year to all, we said sad goodbyes to our families (the hardest for me was saying bye to my sister). We drove home (only having to break into one relative's house for a place to stay on the way home--btw, sorry about that). We made it back to California, obviously stopping at In-N-Out Burger on the way into town because we had been without it for two weeks, and then started an intensive French course one day later. TWO weeks, $500, and 30 in-class hours later, Scott and I had both passed our French reading exams after never having studied French in our lives until 2009. (we're awesome, did I mention?) I can't speak more than 10 phrases in French, but boy can I read it!
I started teaching again in the midst of French craziness, but we didn't start our own classes until this week. Technically, both of my classes were cancelled this week, so I don't start until next week. I am excited to start my third job soon. That's right, this semester I have taken on three jobs in addition to my own coursework and trying to pass another language exam (this time, it's Latin). I'm nervous but equally excited, and I'm ready for the challenge. So, if you see me in the next few weeks and wonder why school just started and I already look exhausted, crazy-eyed, on the verge of tears or insanity...it's okay. It's just me. C'est la vie. Hugs help. :)
Sunday, December 14, 2008
tired
As I sit here at the library typing my seminar papers for this semester, I can’t help but wonder at how I made it this far without crashing and burning.
Simply, I’m tired.
I’m trying to hold down multiple jobs, all in this crazy sub-culture called academia, trying to complete three graduate seminars, and trying to be the perfect wife (which I’m slowing discovering is a fantasy). Because I’m torn—yanked, prodded, pulled, you get the picture—in so many directions, I’m not really doing any of them justice. I do not get to spend enough quality time with my husband. I do not keep a clean house. I do not have a perky get-up-and-face-the-day attitude in the mornings. I do not love my jobs as much as I appreciate having them.
No, unfortunately, our townhouse is a mess. This isn’t because Scott or I are particularly messy people, but because we are so busy that we are never home. And, when we are home, we are usually only there long enough to throw down our backpacks, books, and papers, change clothes, pick up another stack of books and papers, and run out the door again. When we finally collapse with each other at night, we have some amazing moments of solidarity and companionship. And then we sleep far too little before we have to get up and do it all over again. Ah, grad school.
Scott has been my rock for the past four years, and every part of me wants to make him proud. I never would have been emotionally stable enough for grad school without him standing behind me, reminding me of my strengths and cuteness. I want so badly to excel at my current jobs and graduate studies so that, once we (if we?) finally finish, I’ll be able to get a job that is both financially and emotionally satisfying. That way we’ll be able to appreciate each other more and appreciate all the work we’ve been killing ourselves for out here. We’ll be able to look back and know that these hard years of our Ph.D.s were 100% worth it, no regrets, no what ifs.
Simply, I’m tired.
I’m trying to hold down multiple jobs, all in this crazy sub-culture called academia, trying to complete three graduate seminars, and trying to be the perfect wife (which I’m slowing discovering is a fantasy). Because I’m torn—yanked, prodded, pulled, you get the picture—in so many directions, I’m not really doing any of them justice. I do not get to spend enough quality time with my husband. I do not keep a clean house. I do not have a perky get-up-and-face-the-day attitude in the mornings. I do not love my jobs as much as I appreciate having them.
No, unfortunately, our townhouse is a mess. This isn’t because Scott or I are particularly messy people, but because we are so busy that we are never home. And, when we are home, we are usually only there long enough to throw down our backpacks, books, and papers, change clothes, pick up another stack of books and papers, and run out the door again. When we finally collapse with each other at night, we have some amazing moments of solidarity and companionship. And then we sleep far too little before we have to get up and do it all over again. Ah, grad school.
Scott has been my rock for the past four years, and every part of me wants to make him proud. I never would have been emotionally stable enough for grad school without him standing behind me, reminding me of my strengths and cuteness. I want so badly to excel at my current jobs and graduate studies so that, once we (if we?) finally finish, I’ll be able to get a job that is both financially and emotionally satisfying. That way we’ll be able to appreciate each other more and appreciate all the work we’ve been killing ourselves for out here. We’ll be able to look back and know that these hard years of our Ph.D.s were 100% worth it, no regrets, no what ifs.
Here’s my grateful list for today:
- husband’s fuzzy pajama pants
- yummy cheese and cracker snacks
- other harried-looking students in the library, proving that I’m not alone in the world
- my CGU partners in crime, Jan, Stefani, and Sharone
- Holiday Blend coffee
- hair long enough to braid so that I don’t have to think of anything original to do with it
- free food in the library
- husband’s warm hugs after chastising me for wearing his fuzzy pajama pants
- books about hair, black hair, long hair, African American hair, literary hair, kinky hair, political hair, and Janie’s hair
- our nice apartment manager who keeps trying to give me free lemons
- the thought of sleep tonight, however short it may be
I’m almost halfway through one paper, with one more to go after this. Earlier this semester, Sharone and I turned in our 80-page Jazzwomen project, which was half our grade for our Jazz Transdisciplinary course. I’m glad I am finished with that class and only have to complete two more. Two more. Two more. Two more.
To be continued…
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
Gothic Paper, pg 17
Page 17 of my Gothic lit paper is really scary. That's where I am right now. Page 17. I think that the reason I've had so much trouble getting through it is the subject matter--not a fun one to talk about. I'm writing on the gothic trope of women who are attacked in their sleep or in their bedrooms, and these attacks come from anywhere from pirate ghosts to vampires or just plain rapacious men. It's a terrifying subject, but one that has surprisingly little academic criticism as of yet. Everyone talks about the sexual nature of the attacks, but not the "sleepy" nature of the attacks. These women are asleep for some reason, and I have to figure it out why the authors made this such a usable tool for evoking fear. It's my job (or, at least, I've made it my job until I get done writing this paper) to figure out all sorts of scary things. My theory is that the gothic women should have had more caffeine.
I'm trying to do it without looking over my shoulder too much. I get spooked. But Scott is here to protect me. And keep me awake.
I'm trying to do it without looking over my shoulder too much. I get spooked. But Scott is here to protect me. And keep me awake.
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