If I lay down to take a quick nap (1-2 hours), then I am out in less than ten minutes. When get in bed at night, it takes me forever (no less than 1-2 hours) to fall asleep.
“It is because your brain and body are actively attacking you,” says Cole Orloff, Professional Therapist at Tory Is Nuts, Inc.
Recently, I’ve been trying to wean myself off of my teddy bear, Pookie, a soft brown gentleman with a velvety red bow tie and hard black eyes that stare deep into your (my) soul and tell you (me) everything is going to be OKAY.
“Eventually, he will disintegrate into nothing,” says Asshole Orloff, Professional Asshole at People Trying To Destroy My Life, Inc.
Although I still maintain that he will be buried with me when I die, I’ve sort of stopped sleeping with Pookie. Instead, after about 10 minutes of heavy breathing, I grab my phone and pick up with the latest New York Times Crossword puzzle. Pookie doesn’t cause eye floaters or headaches, but I’m an adult so he’s on the couch. Last night, I felt like I needed him because I was having terrifying visions of the paper version of my June schedule coming to life and biting my fingernails off of my fingers. But even though my pillow is made of cotton and anxiety, it’s still super comfy and I just didn’t want to go get him.
Last week we got a new bed frame. So the old one, which is a large and metal with sharp pointy ends, is just chilling in our kitchen because I keep saying I’m gonna sell it on Craigslist. It folds up nicely, at least. When I first laid it out I recognized the danger of those sharp pointy ends sticking out into the walkway, so I MADE SURE to push it further in.
Sure enough, I’m the one who sideways zombie-walked into it around 3:00 this morning and had to sit in the kitchen with a bag of frozen peas on my foot while Pookie laughed softly from the couch. (Which is also technically in the kitchen because this is NYC). Anyway, we’ve been BFFs for almost 27 years so I don’t take that stuff personally.
Eventually I went back to bed, trying to calm myself down from thinking that I all the veins in the top of my foot had exploded, but then I had this awful dream that I moved to San Francisco and left my dry cleaning in NYC. Nothing was going smoothly in California. For example: In my dream I went to an improv show and they asked for a suggestion. I said “pizza.”
One of the performers said, “Okay! What kind of pizza.”
“Cheese? Do you like cheese?” The little blonde improviser who was better looking than I sat down next to me to coax out an answer. She was very gentle. She held my hand.
“Yeah. I like cheese.”
“Okay. Cheese. Pick ONE topping.”
“I don’t know! Mushrooms.”
The audience stared at me. I was holding up the show!
“Great. So you do like a lot of cheese on your pizza?”
“Yeah. Deep dish. I like Chicago style pizza.”
So they went on to take my suggestion (deep dish Chicago style cheese and mushroom pizza) and then started their improv set, which was really a movie.
When I woke up, my foot was throbbing and I was positive I was never going to walk again, or move to San Francisco. There is a teeny tiny little cut on my foot which I feel is not an accurate display of the pain I am feeling. Although a pretty solid bruise is forming around it, which I’m happy about. (Hey, if you tell me you’re a painter, I’ll believe you when you show me a painting).
So I am getting another teddy bear. If nothing else, I will tie them around my feet so that when I shuffle off to the bathroom in the middle of the night, I know I’m safe.
On a side note, is anyone looking for a bed frame? Msg me for details.