Thursday, January 5th, 2012
No, it’s not voodoo. Nor am I a witch. It’s called an Effigy. We held it on New Year’s Eve. We had about 8 people over for dinner and a friend of ours had the idea. She had us write down on a piece of paper what trait you want to get rid of and burn it in the fire. She gave specific instructions: We had to make a man-doll out of newspaper, which our talented animator friend Rich did. Then we put all our pieces of paper in his head (not Rich’s) and burned him (not Rich)–along with our badness.
Now, there are a lot of traits I should get rid of. But not many that I want to get rid of. Like, I know I’m too obsessive about crumbs and cleaning. I know I have irrational fears. But I don’t really want to let go of those. At least not yet.
However, there is one trait that I do wish I was better at dealing with: lack of sleep. I just suck when I don’t have my 7-8 hours a night. And that’s what killed me when Fia was born. I was a mess. I felt like I was in Guantanamo Bay. There is reason they use sleep torture as a POW technique.
I never got angry with Fia during those first 3 months (which surprised me. I didn’t even get frustrated with her). However, there were many times I hated my husband, his family…even my friends. Everything felt like a burden. I just wasn’t myself. I cried a lot. I was an emotional wreck. However, having had plenty of experience with depression, I still don’t believe I had postpartum. I honestly think it came down to severe sleep deprivation (which is why I say sleep training saved my life).
I wish I were one of those people who could go on 5 hours and be fine. Just suck it up. But, for example, I am already calculating when I need to go to bed on January 24th for my January 25th C-Section. (We need to be at the hospital by 5:30 a.m. for 7:30 a.m. surgery.)
In college, I never pulled an all-nighter. I was better off not studying than staying up all hours. It’s how I’m wired. I’m one of those people who can fall asleep on a flight before the plane takes off and not wake until we’ve landed. Sans drugs. I know it’s a gift. But it can also be a curse.
I hope my little effigy/resolution takes the edge off a bit. I hope I can go with the flow a little more with our new guy. I do have experience now, and know that “this too shall pass.” That it does get better. But if I don’t deal well, then you’ll see a lot of dark posts–or a bunch that don’t make sense. Or nothing at all. Because I’ll be in my own Guantanamo. Stay tuned.
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