Normally, I'm deliberate and put together in a way that borders on rigid obsession. I value being on time, prepared, and composed. And that's all well and good when I'm not stressed or on horse-tranquilizer-grade muscle relaxers, or in the current situation, both of those.
Stress alone makes me do weird things, like wake up in the middle of the night and cold cock Eric with a pretty sweet right hook for something he did in my dream, or leave my car (a manual) without putting on the parking brake. But the combination of stress and muscle relaxers is pretty epic. Especially when my medicated sleep is interrupted and I get all out of whack. Eric tends to talk in his sleep, and while he usually tells me important things like how "Batman doesn't need to work out because he fights bad guys all day," sometimes it's just incoherent Shamu-like "woooo woooo woooooo"-ing that almost sounds like English. So, then I sit there half awake trying to figure out what he's saying until I shove him and he stops. My sleep pattern is then interrupted completely because I try to insert logic into the whole episode, and I end up waking up all the way.
This is all a shame because I have vivid, LSD-like dreams when I take my medicine and am allowed to sleep all night. For example, I had a dream where I was riding to Six Flags in a limo with Snoop Dogg. We were braiding each others' hair and I was arguing that the explicit version of "Gin 'N Juice" is more poetic than the radio edit. Even if it was in my own imagination, that was one of the top ten nights of my life.
Last night, my beautiful muscle relaxer dreams were interrupted by a creeping, extreme heat. I woke up yelling, "OH MY GOD, ERIC. Why is it so hot in here?!" only to find that he had gone to sleep in the other room because I was acting out my dreams again. There also was an incessant beeping that I couldn't find the source of. Still in dream/waking hazy limbo, I made my way to Eric's office and shook his futon until he could wake up and find the beeping to make it stop and make it cooler. I was already a little tense worrying that I wouldn't get up in time to get to a super early morning customer meeting, but when we discovered the power (and my alarm clock) had gone out, I spent the rest of the night hot and worried that my cell phone clock I set after the outage wasn't on.
So extremely long story short, after a day full of odd behavior, forgetfulness, an outfit that barely worked, and hair that poked out in all directions, I hit my breaking point. There I was tonight, driving to Wendy's barefoot, braless, and in sweats like some kind of DC Britney Spears to get a Frosty and giant Diet Coke for dinner when I decided that I'm not fit to be in public like this. Not just the immediate barefoot, braless "this," but in this overall state. My filters are completely gone, I look like a homeless person, and I'm rather aggressive. Clearly one needs to prioritize stress management, break the medication habit, and get it together...but my muscle relaxers...are kicking in...and I've stopped caring about being someone who...can be seen in public, fully dressed, without embarrassing my husband.
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