Four Days

Four days.

That's how long it took my body to revert back to a delayed sleep phase after forcing it into a crack-of-dawn schedule for exactly 30 days. It's also how long it took for me to feel halfway human again, rather than like a truck ran me over, backed up over my unconscious body, then ran me over again. It's been a rough month.

It's clear now that it's impossible to write about what it's like to live on a lark schedule while I'm actually on it, because I'm simply too exhausted to write. I honestly thought I was joking when I said that maybe I'd sleep again mid-November - but I was pretty close.

I actually was able to start sleeping on my own schedule again the night of Sunday, November 2. Here's how the previous 30 days went:

3 days of getting up early to meet an insane work deadline
3 days of getting up early for flights and work meetings
1 day of getting up early to get the bazillion things done that I had to do (both work and personal) in the 24 hours I had at home before catching a flight to Lima
16 days of getting up early (or not sleeping at all - more on that later) in Peru
3 days of getting up early for marathon fieldwork, trying to squeeze a week's worth of it into the three and a half days they actually gave me to do it
4 days of getting up early for filmmaking bootcamp in Santa Barbara

Then FINALLY - a day when I didn't have any early-morning obligations!!! Bliss!!!! But it took a while for my body to catch up.

The first night, I fell asleep at 8:30pm. I just couldn't keep my eyes open. I woke up at 7:45am, but I was still really, really tired.

The second night, I fell asleep around 9:30pm and slept until about 8:30am. Still exhausted. Despite the long hours I'd been sleeping, it was clear that I still hadn't made a dent in the sleep deficit I'd built up over the last 30 days.

The third night, I fell asleep around 9:30 again, and slept until 9:15am. Dragged myself through the day.

The fourth night, things were starting to shift a little. Still, at 10:30pm I crashed hard until I woke up at 9:30am.

But the fifth night? I felt great! I have a lot of work to catch up on from being gone, and I was cranking it out until 11:30pm before I even looked at the clock. I didn't fall asleep until 1:00am, and for the first time in a month, I actually had tons of energy. I woke up at 9:20 this morning, ready to go.

The strange thing is that during that 30 days, there were plenty of nights that I got more than 8 hours of sleep (although there were a few nights with little to no sleep as well). Still, it didn't seem to matter how many hours I slept - if it wasn't at the "right" time for my body, I felt like I hadn't slept at all. And no matter what, I was never, ever, not even once, able to wake up at the designated daybreak hour without an alarm clock or wake-up call. Well, wake-up call may not be exactly the right word. "Wake-up yell at my tent door" or "wake-up pounding on the hostel wall" is more like it. You get the idea.

The thing is, my body just does not adjust. It's not a matter of getting used to going to bed early and waking up early, because rather than getting easier to do, it got harder as time went on.

Right now, I'm rejoicing in my return to "normality," as abnormal as it may be to other people. But it won't last long...I have 11 days of early morning fieldwork, travel, and meetings coming up starting Nov 16. So I'm going to enjoy my 8 days working from home on my own schedule, and try to forget that soon I won't be able to sleep again until Thanksgiving. It never ends. I'll always be out-of-sync.

Over the next few weeks, I'll be writing more about my sleepwalking...uh, I mean travels in Peru and posting some photos and maybe some video. Some entries will be more sleep-related than others, but it's all cool stuff!

Here's a hint of things to come - me, two days walk from the nearest village. Yes, I think I am insane. But was it worth the sleep deprivation?? You betcha! Every bit of it. :-)

Off and Running!

And trekking and cycling and kayaking...in Peru!

These last couple weeks of getting ready to leave have been really difficult and exhausting. I just got back from working in Kansas City and I tried to get on a time schedule that was closer to Peru's time zone while I was there, but it didn't work at all. In fact, it was worse than usual and I didn't get to sleep before 4:00am for even one single night. As you can imagine, waking up at 7:30am central time was a nightmare.

I was hoping to start the trip well-rested but that's just not going to happen. I won't be able to crash and burn when I get back either - it's straight back into the field the very day I land on US soil, then a few days later it's off to film school boot camp for 12 hours a day.

Maybe I can sleep mid-November...?

For now, I'm off to the Andes! Other than the sleep deprivation, I feel ready. I stuck my laptop in my backpack today and walked down to 2nd Street to work. I had to stop a couple blocks away from my house and check my stuff - my backpack felt too light and I was afraid I'd left my computer at home! But no!!!! Not only was my computer there, but so was my copy of Gayle Greene's book Insomniac. If you've read it, you know it's about three inches thick. So yeah, I think I'm ready to climb a mountain. Training with a full pack seems to have done the job. :-)

I probably won't be writing until I get back, since I won't even have electricity much of the time. So for now, wish me luck and I'll see you in November!

Not-So-SuperNanny

Note to Superman's Nanny: When he's throwing a full-on meltdown temper tantrum bright and early in the morning, right in front of my bedroom windows, it's probably not an effective technique to just stand there and repeat, "You need to be quiet, the woman who lives right there is working," over and over and over.

You might want to actually do something. Like move somewhere private. Comfort him. Give him a time out. I don't know what, but something other than making someone else the bad guy and being completely ineffectual.

That is all.

Deadlines and Drifting

I feel like a total flake.

I missed the used gear sale at REI today. And the E-Waste drop. And my conditioning hike. And going out with a friend tonight. (Sorry!! I swear I will NOT flake on you for the whale watching cruise tomorrow. Swear!!!!)

For some reason, deadlines make me drift. When I have a ton of work to do, I find myself staying awake later and later and later just to get it done, just because I can. Like right now. It's 1:00am. I'm taking a break from work to write this and try to decide...do I push through and finish the piece I'm working on today? I only have about two more hours of work on it, then I can move on to the next thing tomorrow. I could easily stay up and finish it tonight. Easy. Or I can try to wind down over the next hour, do some meditation, some reading, some aromatherapy. And maybe get to sleep by 2:00. Or 2:30. Honestly, I don't know. I'm not the least bit tired yet.

Sometimes there's no particular reason for the drift. This time, it's my own fault. I have a lot of work to do, on a virtually impossible deadline. That's nothing new. That's my job. It's fast-paced and unpredictable, but I would rather push deadlines constantly than sit in a cubicle all day or attend meetings about meetings about meetings. I like being super-busy and I really like the analysis phase of a project, even though it's the most tedious, time-consuming part. Sick, I know. But true.

The problem is that the analysis phase is when my mind really starts to click. I get in The Zone, where time flies and I don't even realize it's passing. It's where all the years of education, all the books I've ever read, all the theory I've ever learned, and all the data that I've collected over the last month have to come together in my head and emerge as something that not only makes sense, but is interesting and useful for my client. It's the real work, and I love it.

That sounds like a good thing, but for me it's really not. Because when I get in The Zone, I ignore the clock. I work on my body's time, when it feels right and when my mind is the sharpest. I'll work for hours and think only one went by. Tonight, I went to the bookstore to work for a couple of hours - and was there for six and a half. I had a pumpkin spice latte for dinner. I literally forgot to eat real food. I thought I had plenty of time and then Poof! It was midnight. The cafe started shutting down around me and I felt like Cinderella, shocked that the clock was already announcing my forced return to reality.

I could work all night if I didn't force myself to stop. I'm kind of faking myself out right now. I've stopped working, but I'm still working on this. I'm hoping my brain will start to wind down so I can get some sleep. When I drift later at night, I also drift later in the morning. This, of course, is the real problem.

That's why I missed everything I had scheduled today. I knew I had to get in at least 10 hours of work on top of all that, which meant that I had to get up early AND stay up late to fit it all in. I didn't get up early. I didn't wake up until 11:30am after working really late last night. By then, I'd missed Plans 1 through 3. Looking at the time and assessing the amount of work I had to get done, I realized I'd also be missing Plan 4.

The good news is that I got a lot of work done today, and I may still get more accomplished before the night is over. The bad news is that I have no idea what time I'll get to sleep, or what time I'll wake up tomorrow. That could be a problem, since I have some serious non-negotiable, non-flakeable plans that I absolutely cannot miss. A boat is leaving the dock and I absolutely must be on it when it does, in order to prove that I can, in fact, commit to something. (Yeah, not my strong point without the DSPS, I know.)

For once, I'm actually hoping the Superman Alarm Clock is set bright and early. Maybe he'll break out the drum set? Please?? But just this once.

Superman Has Left The Building!

It's Saturday morning and the sun is shining into my bedroom window. I wake up, feeling pretty good. I glance at the clock - double-take!! It's 10:30am.

I don't know if Superman's suddenly learned how to be quiet, if he's gone for the weekend, or if I was finally so exhausted that I just slept right through the morning chaos. Doesn't matter - I slept!!!!

Of course, I have to leave in an hour and a half for a friend's baby shower, then go straight from that to another friend's 40th birthday party. I have a million things to do like pick up the champagne, sign the cards, and pack for my big hike the next day. I'm so used to having an automatic Superman alarm clock that I didn't bother to set one - and now it seems inevitable that I'll be late, as usual.

Sure enough, it's 12:45 before I make it out the door - and there's traffic. I figure it's not too bad to arrive almost an hour late to a baby shower...until I walk in and find that it's an extremely formal sit-down affair, complete with table service and china. I thought I'd be missing some silly game that involved diapers and toilet paper, but what I really missed was foofy sandwiches and a chance to actually TALK to my pregnant friend. Ah well. Onward.

At least I wasn't late to the 40th birthday party - which ROCKED! It was another formal affair, with wine tasting, Italian caterers and live music. No, that's not just bad grammar. Yes, the food was Italian too. But the caterers were the highlight of the evening in my book! Hey, I've been so busy at work that I forgot to bring my own hot date and my friend's hot firefighter husband was at work saving cats from trees or something, so at least the two of us had something to admire from afar.

Parties are the awesome end of the delayed sleep phase spectrum. People started crashing around 1:30am or so, but I was wide awake (and relatively sober) and was able to get some meditation and reading in before I hit the guest bedroom around 2:45am. Perfect timing for me! I had yet another blissful full night's sleep and was ready to haul my partied-out self up a mountain the next day.

Which I did. 12 miles worth of mountain, on about 400 calories. I kinda forgot to eat anything but a hard boiled egg, a few slices of apple, and a smashed-up, melted chocolate Power Bar that I dug out of the bottom of my backpack halfway through the hike. Oops.

I got home around 6:00pm, did a few restorative yoga poses...and fell asleep on the couch at 9:00!!!!!!! When I opened my eyes again, it was 11:30. I dragged myself to bed and...laid there. I was totally exhausted, but my body seems to have treated my early crash-out as a late-afternoon nap. It wasn't about to go back to sleep until my normal time. Just like I expected, I finally fell back asleep around 1:30. Ahh!!

Which brings me to this morning. I opened my eyes to find the sun in a rather high position again. Looked at the clock. 10:30!!!! Another Superhero-less morning!!!!!!!

Wherever he is, I hope he stays there. I think my sleep-debt is just about paid off. Now if only I could do something about that school debt...

Interesting Little Piece

This clip from the Australian show Catalyst has some good info about circadian rhythms in general, and is one of the first I've seen that even mentions what I call "sleep hangovers" - the nausea and malaise so many of us experience when we're off our natural rhythm.

Although this is about people with a normal circadian rhythm, those of us with DSPS are doing shift work all the time when we're forced to work the day shift. I find it interesting that it's apparently perfectly okay for someone to say that they're just not cut out for the night shift and need to go back to daytime work, but when we say we're not cut out for the day shift, all hell breaks loose.

And for what it's worth, the part in the video linking circadian rhythm abnormalities and bipolar disorder doesn't really seem to fit...I'm not sure why that's in there. It doesn't seem earth-shattering to me that you can tell that someone's coming up on a manic episode because they stop sleeping. That doesn't prove that bipolar disorder is linked to circadian rhythm disorders, just that people who are having manic episodes stop sleeping. It's a totally different thing.

Anyway, overall it's a pretty short and interesting clip about how circadian rhythms are supposed to work, even if it is a bit lacking on what happens when they don't work that way.

Yawnese

I'm listening to some of my audio dissertation data today. Yes my friends, Hell just might have frozen over! I'm working on this thing again. Don't get me wrong, I'm not transcribing the data yet. But I am digitizing it - one baby step at a time!

For those of you who haven't been following my illustrious career (ha!!), I rode along with parole agents for two years. Two years of meeting them before dawn, so they could wake up those "lazy" parolees bright and early. I ran audio the whole time, because I knew I'd never remember a damn thing that happened at 6:00am.

You know what's jumping out at me from the tapes? Me. Yawning. Repeatedly. And trying to talk at the same time. It's pretty funny, actually. I can't even understand myself, but it's super-clear that I was exhausted. Know what's really funny? The last five minutes have been of me, all pissed off because I forgot to put tape in the video camera and missed a really good interaction. Because I was so tired.

No wonder I haven't finished this damn thing. Go figure.

Gear Up!

Peru is only five weeks away! I'm excited, but I'm also getting very nervous. Am I worried about trekking across the Andes in my sea-level body over passes that rise higher than 14,000 feet? Well, yeah. A little. I have no idea how well I adjust to altitude, so all I can do is train hard and be as fit as possible, so if the altitude really hits me at least that's all I'll have to worry about.

But you know what really scares me? Doing it day in and day out after crack of dawn wake-up calls.

I love adventure travel. I live for it. But this morning, when I was waiting for my Coffeebot to brew my aptly named and freshly roasted Brazilian Sunrise, I started to wonder if I can really survive on that kind of schedule for 14 days straight. When I didn't smell that familiar coffee aroma and hear the hiss of the Coffeebot dripping, I realized that I hadn't filled up the water reservoir - and then I really started to wonder if I'm destined to be a safety hazard on a high mountain pass at 6:00am.

Early morning adventures are nothing new to me. Sunrise is a sacred time, especially when the God of the Tourist Dollar is involved. I've been roused from slumber for 5:00am game drives in the Zimbabwean bush and I've climbed Temple IV at Tikal in the dark, to watch the jungle wake up before my eyes. Personally, I prefer the African tradition of the "sundowner," perched high in a Land Rover, toasting the evening wildlife with a cold Bollinger's. Unfortunately for me, sunrise seems to hold far more options for cultural experience on the road. Why is this?

The first few days of any trip are the strangest. Depending on where in the world I plan to end up, they can be extremely difficult or they can be nirvana. Hawaii, for example, is awesome. Traveling west is ideal, because it takes a few days for my body to adjust to the new environmental time cues. While it's doing that, I'm in almost perfect sync. My 10:00am wake-up time is now 8:00am. Not exactly the crack of dawn, but early enough that I don't feel like I'm wasting my vacation. However, I live in Los Angeles so my westerly options are limited, to say the least.

Traveling east is another story. I adjust better to a complete flip - like South Africa's 11 hours - than I do to a small difference of only a few hours. Peru is three hours ahead of my current time zone. It's gonna be rough.

Like I said, I've done it before. My biggest concern is that I'm traveling solo this time. Not totally alone, because I'm joining an adventure travel tour group for the very first time. I've traveled alone before, but I usually meet up with friends at some point along the way and we do stuff on our own schedule. I only have to sleepwalk through the occasional pre-dawn climb or drive.

This time, we're on a strict schedule every single day and since I paid my single supplement (a rant for another time), I have a room/tent all to myself and nobody to shine a headlamp in my face or drag my butt out of my warm sleeping bag. This worries me.

The only time I've been totally alone, where nobody could just barge into my room and wake me up was on safari in Africa. Still, the guides there would show up at oh-dark-thirty, pound on my tent door, yell a little (or a lot), and not leave until I had a steaming hot cup of coffee in my hand. Okay, it was chicory rather than actual coffee but it was the best they could do. They served it in silver pots and china cups, which was nice. Chicory, however, does not have caffeine. Still, it was a warm, hot drink that got me moving a little. I'm fairly certain I won't be getting that kind of service on a trek in Peru.

In Guatemala, I just stayed up all night for the pre-dawn climb up Temple IV. I believe the wake-up call for that one was 3:30am, and it helped that there was a hard-partying group of locals who were still up drinking and singing at that hour. I was a wreck by the time we climbed down for breakfast, but I didn't miss the experience by sleeping right through it.

Speaking of Peru, it's time for me to get on the road for a conditioning hike. Training. Ugh. That's another early morning debacle...and a good topic for next time!

Deal-Breakers All Around

Last week's travel was hell.

So you can imagine how much I was looking forward to a week of working at home, sleeping on my normal schedule, feeling human again. Alas, it was not to be.

These have been my alarm clocks so far this week:

8:08am Saturday - Superman, with the usual routine. Doesn't he take weekends off???

7:30am Sunday - Some guy who runs a Belly Boot Camp or some such thing, calling to find out why Benjamin hasn't been to class for a few days. Benjamin, get your couch potato self to boot camp, if only to give drill sergeant dude your correct phone number. Please.

8:30am Monday - East coast client calls a "lunch" meeting. I drown myself in caffeine and make it through, thankful that we aren't using video conferencing. They may not think my SpongeBob jammies are appropriate work attire.

6:55am Tuesday - My phone rings, and I wonder who died as I bury my head under the covers and let it go to voice mail. Turns out everyone's alive, it was just a guy I met in the airport last week, calling to say hi. I met my last boyfriend on a plane, so kudos to this guy for starting a conversation and asking for my number. It was worth a shot.

However...

Reggie, if you're reading this, you seem like a really nice guy. Cute, too. But you live in the same time zone as I do. There is absolutely NO excuse for calling me that early in the morning. You are, obviously, a lark. Larky enough to be making social phone calls at the crack of dawn. This is an immediate deal-breaker. I will not be returning your call. Unless I do it at 3:00am.

I finally get back to sleep...but that's not the end of the story. There will be no blissful slumber for me. Ever again, I'm afraid.

8:10am Tuesday - Superman has acquired a drum set. No joke. A drum set that he wakes up and begins to play, first thing in the morning. Above my head. No adult stops him, or even enters the room as far as I can hear. This has become surreal. Like I'm stuck in a bad movie. I'm pining away for the toy that played "Twinkle, twinkle, little star" day in and day out. I miss that toy. I want it back. I would trade the drum set and Superman for the crying baby and annoying toy any day. At this point, I'd almost sell my soul just for some sleep.

Superman is singing right now, he is musically inclined but not in a good way. The drum set may, in fact, be an apartment deal-breaker. I've lived here for five years. I love it here. But I can no longer sleep in my own bedroom. It may be time to move on.

Either that, or declare war. It's a toss up. I'll keep you posted.

Superman, Meet Supernanny. Please.

I'm not sure what's messed me up so badly this week - the time zone debacle or the fact that my morning wake-up routine seems to be inevitably linked to the wake-up schedule of the kid upstairs.

My three days of travel killed me. I wasn't able to sleep more than three hours a night the whole time. This happens a lot though, since traveling is a part of my career and has pretty much been my life for the last six years now.

When I'm out of sync for a few days, I always expect an adjustment period. Here's how it usually goes:

I travel east.
I don't sleep.
I come home and sleep for about 12 hours that day.
I'm back to normal.
Well, my normal anyway.

This time? Here's how it's gone:

I travel east.
I don't sleep.
I come home and sleep for about five hours.
Superman wakes up and starts bouncing his basketball over my head.
I wake up.
Superman throws stuff and yells.
I stay awake.
Superman's mother yells back.
Superman's grandma starts singing, loudly, in French.
I'm still awake, cringing when I look at the clock.
About an hour passes, more of the same.
Superman and the whole crew "fly" down the rickety (loud) wooden stairs right outside my bedroom window, yelling to each other the whole time.
I'm still awake.
They stand in front of my bedroom window, expressing their amazement that he's faster than a speeding bullet, so all the neighbors know they have a Super Hero in their midst.
Finally, they fly away to save the day.
I fall back asleep within about 15 minutes, and sleep for another hour or two.
I wake up in a panic, still totally exhausted from the interrupted sleep and already starting my day much later than I'd hoped.

Repeat. Every. Single. Day.

My body has not had the chance to catch back up. Instead of waking up around 9 or 10am and being sharp enough to really do serious work by 1 or 2pm, I'm waking up around 11 or 12 and not being able to focus until at least 4pm. Which is when my colleagues are just finishing up their day - or have already gone home.

I'm hoping that the weekend will give me a chance to make up my sleep deficit and at least get back to a schedule that's only a few hours off the norm.

And will somebody upstairs please call Supernanny?? Please. You need help. Really.

Time Zone Hopping

"We're all tired in the morning."

Well...maybe. But hearing this from colleagues is always frustrating. If you've been awake for a few hours, had breakfast and hit the hotel gym before meeting me in the lobby at 8:30am to get to the office by 9:00, our worlds are not the same. My "tired" is clearly not your "tired."

Crappy Writing Alert and Apologies in Advance - this is written on less than three hours of sleep.

Last night, I actually thought things were going to go better than usual. I woke up at the crack of dawn in Pacific Time and took an earlier flight to Central Time than I usually do on these trips. I decided that I'd rather take the hit on the front end than try to stay focused during a really important all-day analysis session on the back end, with no sleep. I got to the hotel with plenty of time to try to fake myself out and pretend my body's not two hours behind its already delayed rhythm.

After checking in, I have dinner with colleagues, finish up some last minute work, and am surprised to find that it's already midnight. Since this is only 10:00pm my time, I'm not at all tired yet. The realization that I have to wake up in 7 hours hits me hard though, and I decide to try to get some sleep.

At first I panic when I realize that I've forgotten my melatonin, but then I decide to just do some meditation and tuck myself into the big, comfy hotel bed anyway. (Gotta love those hotel beds!!!) I do just that, and find myself hunkering down for the night just before 1:00am.

I close my eyes, stay grounded and centered, focus on my breathing and convince myself that I will, in fact, be sound asleep very soon. My mind starts to wander. I think about the oddest things. My ex-boyfriend. My two exes ago boyfriend. Then I think about why I didn't think about the boyfriend in between. I think about my job, and the book I'm reading and my career path. I think. And think. And think. And try to clear my mind and not think. And think about not thinking about not sleeping. What I don't do is sleep.

Whatever I do, I am NOT going to open my eyes and look at the clock. I'm going to lay here for as long as it takes to fall asleep. Period. Looking will just stress me out and make things worse. I don't sleep for what seems like forever.

I cave. One eye opens and catches the hotel alarm clock - it's 2:40am. I haven't slept a wink. Terror strikes as I realize that best case scenario, I'm getting less than five hours of sleep tonight. And experience tells me this won't be a "best case" kinda night.

Okay. Maybe if I read for a while, I'll fall asleep. I turn on the light and finish that book I was thinking about. It's 3:17am when I'm done. That's 1:17am my time, so I should be getting tired now - and I am. But the stress has taken over. I count down...less than four hours until Alarm Time.

The last time I check the clock, it's 4:03am, which is 2:03am my time and just about the time I've been crashing out lately. Sure enough, this is when I finally fall into a deep, restful sleep...and less than three hours later, the alarm bells ring.

Morning does not go well. I'm nauseated - which lasts all day. I can't find anything in my tiny suitcase, even though I know I've packed everything. I know, because I packed it the night before I had to head to the airport - doing it in advance is the only way to be sure I don't forget something crucial.

Stumbling down to the hotel lobby, I see my co-workers already waiting for me - perky and alert. I buy the biggest coffee I can at the lobby cafe while they wait patiently, and I am pleasantly surprised - and extremely grateful - when one of them actually asks how I slept and acknowledges how hard this must be for me, between the DSPS and the time zone change.

This is really nice. Just a few words of support and acknowledgment mean so much to me, so different than that line I used to get from them, "We're all tired in the morning." At the meeting, nobody asks me to present my data first, and I don't feel like I have to pretend to be at my best, when I'm so obviously not. It feels good to just accept my exhaustion and know that I'm doing my best, and know that they know that too.

Maybe there's hope for some understanding of circadian rhythm disorders after all. Right now, I'm optimistic.

Neighborly Exhaustion

So the 5:30am Guy moved out. After we talked about the morning noise issue, he was great. Sure, I still heard the occasional drawer opening in his kitchen or the spoon in the cereal bowl, but I was definitely spared the responsibility of being Keeper of the Morning Phone Call Secrets. He moved out early though, a few months before the end of his lease. I knew he was only staying short-term, but I do wonder if tiptoeing around in the mornings wore him down. Still, he was awesome and he really understood and tried and if he ever happens to read this, I want to thank him. For someone with DSPS, understanding neighbors are worth their weight in gold.

Which brings me to the new family upstairs…

A woman. What appears to be her mother. And the kicker? A four year old boy who has obviously never lived above someone else’s head before. Let’s call him Superman. The first time I heard him was through my living room ceiling. I was sitting on the couch having my morning coffee and checking my e-mail around 11:00am one morning and BOOM!!!! Holy shit. Another one follows – BOOM!!!! Are we having another earthquake?? Then an even louder one – BOOM!!!!!!!!!!!! What the hell???

Then I hear an adult male laughing, saying something about flying. Not long after that, I hear “flying” down the stairs just outside my apartment door in the foyer. It sounds like two people are jumping down the stairs – a big person and a little person. This, I assume, is Daddy. The missing Daddy, it turns out. But I digress. They emerge from the building and appear in full glory in front of my windows. It suddenly becomes clear to me. The mystery of flight is explained by the fact that the kid is wearing a Superman cape. Ah ha. Flying. Crash landing into my ceiling, apparently. Considerate of others, aren’t they?

Over the next several days, my hopes that Superman stays down to earth when he’s not playing with Daddy are shattered. Now, the family who moved out had kids too. I’m NOT – repeat, NOT – complaining about having a child living upstairs. That family had a three year old and a baby, and although I was looking forward to not having the toy that played “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star” living above my reading nook any longer, they were wonderful. Kid noises are kid noises, and the Star Family rarely woke me up. When they did, I assumed it was a holiday, or the kids were sick, or any number of things that might happen to cause playing or crying or something loud in the morning. Those things are part of life, they happen once in a while and I learned to live with them just like I assume they learned to live with my occasional Girl Get-Togethers that ran until the early hours of the morning.

So my first reaction to Superman was that he was adjusting to a new place, and to whatever circumstances led to the change. The first few days, the poor kid woke up screaming like Stephen King’s It was the first thing he saw when he opened his eyes. I felt bad for him, and I am truly glad that those morning terrors seem to have stopped. But adjustment doesn’t seem to be the problem.

You see, the adults are louder than Superman. He wakes up and yells for his mother or grandmother…and she yells back. (How do you think I know their relationships? It’s how I know mom and son’s names too. They haven’t introduced themselves. Grandma doesn’t seem to have a name. She’s been reduced to a social role now.) They stand outside, right in front of my bedroom window, and yell to the other people who remain in the apartment upstairs. They watch as Superman stomps his way up and down the stairs – both the ones in the foyer just outside my living room door and the wooden stairs in the back next to my bedroom. Those are the ones they use in the morning. They stash his bikes and toys under those stairs and let him play with them bright and early, riding up and down along the narrow two foot walkway that runs – you guessed it – right below my bedroom windows.

The pattern is the same. He doesn’t wake up too awfully early for someone without DSPS, but for me? It’s just enough to really mess me up for the day. Around 8:00am I hear the wake up call to mom. For the next hour, it’s a noise-fest. They usually leave just after 9:00, and sometimes I can fall back asleep. Sometimes I can’t, especially on work days. I’ve been hoping it was temporary, but it seems clear at this point that the adults aren’t even aware it’s a problem. He’s not going to learn to respect the neighbors if they aren’t teaching him how to do that. In fact, they’re modeling the exact opposite.

This morning - at exactly 8:08am - he was in front of my windows with grandma who was yelling at him to “Look! Look!” at something. It took a Herculean effort, but I’d had enough. They obviously weren’t planning to introduce themselves anytime soon so that I could politely explain the situation to them, like I did with 5:30am Guy. I raised the blinds, hoisted open the window and mumbled, “It’s early, people are still sleeping.” Grandma lowered her voice a bit and said, “Oh, right. Okay.” Then as she turned to take Superman back upstairs, I heard her mutter under her breath…

“What did you do, stay up until 2:00am?”

Oh, she did NOT just say that. Fightin’ words. If it hadn’t been 8:00 in the morning, they would be fighting words anyway. Honestly? At that time of day, you can say just about anything to me and the most I’ll do is tell you to shut up and get out of my face so I can go back to sleep.

What I wanted to tell her was that yes, I did stay up until 2:00am. 2:15, actually. I was reading and re-reading interviews I’d done with cancer patients, trying to make sense out of their pain, and trying to understand the emotional pain of planning their own deaths to make it easier for the people they love. I was trying to do that without falling apart emotionally myself, as I saw them crying in my head again and again. Yes. I was up until 2:00am. I wanted to ask her what she was doing at 2:00am? Just sleeping??? How unproductive!!

But I could only say that in my head. The effort to shut the window, roll back over and try to get a little bit more sleep was the most energy I could muster. For today, anyway.

And As Quickly As It Began...

It's over.

There's no question that once my body was somehow shocked into lark-dom, the melatonin helped to maintain that state, and I got to enjoy many mornings that I never would have seen otherwise. However, the price was just too great and I stopped taking it a couple of weeks ago. Almost immediately, I was right back to my usual pattern of waking somewhere between 9 and 10am, and of having to set an alarm clock to be sure that I'm up for work by then.

The killer was the Sleep Hangover phenomenon. I'm klutzy and woozy enough in the mornings as is - I just couldn't stand bumping into things, knocking things over, and most of all, wanting nothing more than to puke my guts up first thing every morning. Not fun.

Today, I woke up with only the "usual" nausea. I'm not hungry right away, but I expect that I will be in another half hour or so. (I've been up for 45 minutes now.) I have, however, made coffee and I'm enjoying a wonderful cup of La Minita from Polly's Gourmet Coffee, which is our local roaster. If you happen to be a coffee fiend from elsewhere, you can order their amazing stuff right here. No, I don't work for them...but they tolerate me sitting around using them as my local "office" for hours, and they truly have the best coffee EVER! And as you know, that's critical to life as we know it when you have DSPS. Plus, they have the coolest Coffeebot on the planet - their roaster.

So check them out!

Anyway, I have to say that I really miss mornings. It was such a peaceful time of day. I miss looking up at the clock and realizing that I've accomplished half my work for the day before I'd normally be awake. Since I was still falling asleep around my normal time, it was like messing with the space/time continuum and gaining a few extra hours each day. I felt like I was cheating the laws of physics - which, it seems, I was. Cheating something anyway, because it's over. I fear that I'll never see 7am again.

It's over and I'm sad. :-(

Lesser of Two Evils?

Three weeks later, my sleep schedule is still a bit lark-ish, although more complicated than I would like to see. Once my pattern had shifted to a 7-8am wake up time, I decided to start using melatonin again to see if I could maintain that pattern. I'd tried it before, without much luck. It would help me fall asleep earlier, but didn't do much for my wake up time. And it only did that for a few days before it stopped working.

I thought that maybe now that my body had shifted in response to the stress, I could use the melatonin to maintain that shift indefinitely. So I busted out the Plantidotes Nite-trition:


Good stuff! You know what? It's working. If I don't take it, I sleep until my normal 9-10am wake up time and generally wake up a lot during the night now too. (Yeah, the ongoing nightmares don't help.) But if I do take it, about half an hour before bed, I sleep through the night and wake up between 7:00 and 8:00am. Amazing!!!!

I know there are all kinds of theories about when you should take the melatonin, but this is what's working for me now, and I'm not going to mess with it. This way, I still don't wake up early enough to get to a corporate job or some such thing, but it's perfect for my work-at-home lifestyle.

Unfortunately, normalcy still comes with a price. The Sleep Hangovers are at their worst ever, with no sign of letting up. This means that some days it doesn't matter that I wake up early because I'm literally so nauseated that I can't get out of bed for an hour or two anyway. Other days I get up just long enough to stumble to the bathroom and throw up, then crawl back in bed waiting for it to go away. If I fall back asleep until my normal 9-10am, I'll wake up feeling just fine.

Plus, the complete lack of coordination has definitely taken a toll on me physically. I now have a bona fide Sleep Hangover related injury.


And no, there's just no way to take a flattering photo of your own thigh. My leg isn't really that wavy, that's light coming in through wavy window glass. That is, however, a very bad tan line. I drive a convertible, and that's the price you pay. :-P

How, you ask, did this happen??? I tried to make tea with a bad sleep hangover. Not the smartest thing I've ever done, obviously. I have a vintage oven that is definitely not up to 2008 safety standards, especially that really sharp part of the oven door handle. Shall we say my spatial judgment was, oh, a *bit* off? I ran smack into it and ended up curled up on the floor, howling in pain and bleeding.

So...again I ask, is it worth it?? I'm still not sure which schedule I prefer. When I wake up at my normal time, I'm always a bit groggy and mornings are never chirpy, bright and happy. But I can make tea without killing myself, and I can keep it down when I drink it.

Those are good things, I think.

The experiment continues...send vibes that I live through it!

Sleep Hangovers

Two weeks later, and my strangely normal sleeping patterns continue. Hmm. But the side effects are starting to add up.

The morning nausea isn't going away, it's getting worse. Much worse. I wake up every morning feeling hungover, even though I haven't had any alcohol since The Blindside. This, of course, is despite strong encouragement from my friends who truly believe that booze is the cure for whatever ails you. Not so. Alcohol is a depressant and that is exactly what I don't need right now. If I drink when I'm already depressed or stressed out about something, it just intensifies the feeling and makes everything worse. So I don't. Besides, I already feel like crap and I don' t need to feel worse in the morning.

This time though, I can't seem to avoid that sick hangover feeling. Yes, I'm waking up really, really, super early for me. (I'm working on this blog before 9:00am!!!! Never in a million years thought that would happen.) At first, it almost seemed worth it. A couple weeks in, and I'm not so sure anymore.

Not only is the nausea getting worse, but so are the general signs of sleep deprivation. I'm waking up earlier than usual, but not falling asleep earlier. I'm usually a long sleeper - 9 to 10 hours is ideal, and I feel pretty good when I can get that in at the right time of day. Since The Blindside, I'm only getting about 7 hours a night.

That's clearly not enough. I'm exhausted in the afternoon, and I'm starting to lack focus throughout the day rather than just in the mornings. I tripped carrying groceries up my three steps yesterday. Damn that hurt. I've become a total klutz All. Day. Long. My house is a total mess because I just don't have the energy to do anything more than the basic survival stuff. I have piles of books all over the living room floor that I pulled out for work, but I just don't have the energy to lift them back up to put them away. I managed to assemble (and use) the Spinning bike I bought on that fateful day, but the box is huge and needs to be torn down, cut up, and hauled out to the recycling bin. I just can't do it.

I'm torn. I love being up early. I truly love mornings. That surprises me as much as anyone. But I want to be able to wake up early and not feel like I downed a few shots of tequila and mixed it with a whole bottle of Napa cab the night before. All the hangover, none of the buzz. It's just not right.

How to Become a Lark

Well, it's been a while since I've posted here. I got sidetracked by lots of work travel, then getting my heart ripped out by the very guy who made up the word "burgermare." Yes, he's gone. Moving on...

The interesting thing is that in the week since it happened, my body chemistry seems to have completely changed. First, my sleep patterns were all over the clock. For a couple of days I couldn't sleep for more than a couple of hours at a time. 12-2am, 4:30-7:00am, 3:30-5:00pm, etc. It was insanity. And when I was tired, I couldn't keep my eyes open for One. More. Second. I'd drop off to sleep wherever I happened to be, in the middle of whatever I happened to be doing.

The next few days, I woke up around 4:30am, wide awake. I had mixed feelings about it. It was really nice to be up early, out of bed, and getting a head start on the day. I found that I truly love mornings. The light is beautiful, the streets are peaceful. So. This is what I'm missing. Hmm.

For the next couple of days, it was 7:00am. I realized that I'd started drifting back to "normal" and the feelings got even more mixed. Could I stop the process here?? That would be perfect! If I could settle in on an 11pm - 7am sleep cycle, I'd be the happiest newly single girl in the world. Is it possible?

But on the flip side, whatever hormonal freak-out was waking me up early did absolutely nothing for those weird side-effects. I wasn't groggy, but I was still uncoordinated. And the morning nausea? Increased tenfold. Usually, I just feel a bit queasy when I wake up. My gag reflex is super-sensitive, and brushing my teeth is tricky. I can't eat for at least an hour, often more.

All of that stuff was intensified, or just oddly opposite. Instead of being a bit queasy, I've actually thrown up every morning. Instead of being groggy, my heart races out of control in a panic. I'm not just uncoordinated, I can barely walk. I knock everything over and I've broken two glass bottles of moisturizer just trying to reach for my toothbrush. I don't remember anything. What was I looking for? Oh yeah, deodorant. So then I grab the hairspray and wonder again, what was I looking for? My love for coffee? It's turned to loathing. I can't even imagine drinking coffee in the morning right now. The thought makes me sick.

It all makes me ponder the causes of this crazy thing, and wonder if there really is a solution out there. We know there's a genetic component. We know there's a hormonal component. What insane combination of things made stress and emotional trauma override my natural rhythms? And how long will it last? Can we figure it out, bottle it, and force ourselves to become like everyone else?

Last night, I wasn't tired until 1:00am. I slept until 8:15am, which is still quite early for me. But my wake-up time is moving back toward my own personal normal, and I think my brief glimpse of Lark Life might be coming to an end.

I'll miss it. Truly.

Wanna break my heart? It was almost worth it.

Drifting away...

Ah yes, I've begun to drift again. Do other people drift like this?

Just when I think I've settled into a nice pattern of sleeping between 12 and 1am and waking between 9 and 10am, it suddenly shifts. I wish I could blame it on the switch to Daylight Saving Time, but I can't. I can never quite tell when it's going to happen, but this time it really kicked into action on Friday.

We were out a bit late - at a friend's birthday party - and got to sleep a bit later than usual. Still, it wasn't too far off the mark - certainly not far enough that I was worried about not being able to wake up on Saturday morning. Imagine my surprise when I opened my eyes, looked at the clock, and saw that it was 11:30am already! Yikes. A couple of hours past my own personal "normal" wake up time. So much for a relaxing Saturday morning. It was already over.

The next day, I was particularly conscious of my sleep/wake pattern. I went to bed at midnight but of course I couldn't fall asleep. I did some catching up on my National Geographic reading and finally managed to get to sleep around 2:00am. Woke up at 10:30 on Sunday.

Drifting is a strange thing for me. My very first memory of drifting happened way back in grade school. I have distinct memories of sitting in the kitchen with my mom, who was telling me it was 2:00am and I really had to go to bed. It was Christmas vacation and I'd been allowed to stay up on Christmas Eve for midnight mass - and my body just decided that was it. That was my new bedtime. Given the house we lived in, I must have been younger than 10 years old. When school started again, it was hell.

The whole phenomenon reminds me of what it must be like to be able to be flexible in your sleep schedule - like my boyfriend who happily slept until 11:30am with me, but easily woke up at 6:30am to play golf the very next day. He has a distinct preference for sleeping later hours, but it's not a problem when he can't.

Drifting is like that for me. I can manage my to work my sleep schedule away from the drift if I really, really try hard. A few days of vigilance and I can usually shift it back a couple of hours. But there's a hard stop. I call 9:00-10:00am my own normal wake time because it's the absolute earliest that I can manage to get up and function on a regular basis. It's my hard stop. Of course, if I left it to my body, I'd probably be sleeping a lot later much of the time. I imagine that other people have other hard stops - maybe noon or 2:00pm or even 5:00pm and later. I feel extremely lucky that I can work it back to 9:30ish, which is still a reasonable time to get up for work in my current situation. (But NOT in a 9-6 office commuter type job!)

The problem with drift is that yes, I do have to have some willpower and motivation to stick to a schedule, trying to fall asleep even just a bit earlier each day when my body just wants to stay up later and later. I find that Benadryl sometimes helps with this, but again there's a hard stop. Before midnight, it's useless.

Today, I've blown it already. It's 12:40 and I'm nowhere near tired enough to go to bed yet. I might try the Benadryl trick in an hour or so, but honestly? I've been so productive the last couple of hours that I really don't want to fall asleep yet. I don't have any morning obligations, so I'll probably just work for a while, catch up on some Tivo, and sleep until I wake up in the morning.

The problem with that is that I'm already stressing out about the day after that - when I have to be awake for an 11am conference call. In my "normal" world, that would be fine. But when I'm drifting, it can be tricky. Wish me luck!

5:20 AM

That's the time the New Guy wakes up on weekdays. Apparently, that's the time I'll be waking up too, at least for a few minutes.

Usually if something wakes me up before my natural time, I can get back to sleep fairly quickly. The odd thing is that I often sleep WAY past my natural wake-up time when this happens, starting the "drifting" process. My fellow DSPS'ers know what this is - waking up later pushes my natural sleep time back even later than usual, pushing my natural wake time even more off the mark. Not a good thing.

Today, I tried to counter that by setting my alarm for 9:00 when I woke up at 5:20. Between 9:00 and 10:00 is my natural time, so it wasn't far off the mark. Still, when that alarm goes off it jolts me awake and throws me off all day. It's like a mental switch doesn't quite turn on.

This leads to things like:

Walking into a room and looking around, not remembering why I'm there.

Hitting my head on the bathroom door, which opens outward into my hallway. I usually know it's there, and I pay attention, but not when I'm "off."

Putting my brush in my medicine cabinet instead of in the drawer.

Making coffee without putting the grounds in the filter, then standing there for a few minutes wondering why all I ended up with was hot water.

Dropping a whole container of blueberries all over the kitchen floor. Do you know how hard it is to get blueberries swept up off a kitchen floor that looks like THIS? Yes, those little dots are just about blueberry sized, of course.


It's not just that I'm tired when I wake up unnaturally. I'm...weird. There have been times in my life when I've been afraid to stay at other people's houses overnight because I don't want them to see how freaky I am in the mornings.

Does this happen to other people with DSPS too? Does it happen to you??? Or am I truly strange?

A New Kind of Burgermare

Well, they finally rented the studio apartment behind me. . .to a MORNING person!!!!!!!! How do I know this? Let me count the ways.

First clue is that I'm working on this blog at 9:58am on a Sunday morning. And not just any Sunday morning, but my very first Sunday morning after quitting my crack of dawn job. I was out until 2:00 celebrating last night with friends. I should be sleeping right now. Really, I should.

Unfortunately I was jolted out of sleep at an ungodly 8:20am by a loud, deep, booming voice coming right through my wall. Don't get me wrong, I'm not upset with the New Guy. He's not doing anything wrong. I'm sure he's speaking in a perfectly normal tone of voice, and I'm even more certain that he has absolutely no idea that he'll never have a private conversation again. I'm pretty sure the property management company left that part out of the glowing ad copy.

In any case, I think I'll probably like him. I know enough about him already. Turns out his new apartment is about the size of the master bedroom at his old place. He looked at several in the neighborhood and this was by far the best option. He really likes that the fixtures are all original - the place still has the old tile, old cabinets, old doorknob handles. He hates the parking here though and hopes getting a place without a garage wasn't a mistake. He's jealous of the rest of us, because the bigger apartments come with garages.

I know how many bottles of wine he bought for a friend's potluck. I know about his paranoid former roommate. I know who he voted for in the primary, and I know what he feels are the pros and cons of the candidates. I know a lot more that I won't post on the internet because, well, he didn't sign a consent form and neighborly gossip isn't what this is about anyway.

My point is, he had a friend over to show him the new apartment. At 8:20am. The last person who lived there was one of my best friends. She understood the "wall thing" to the point where she never let her microwave beep before noon. I love her!

But she's gone now, lost to co-habitation with a really cool guy. Happy for her, sucks for me. I'm going to have to go over at some point and have "the talk" with the New Guy. Ugh. Not pleasant, but I'm sure he deserves to know that nothing that happens in there is sacred. I'd want to know, wouldn't you?

But I definitely need some coffee first.

Thank you!!! You all ROCK!!!

Thanks to everyone who e-mailed me about participating in the study!

The response has been overwhelming and I'm doing this on the side, so it might take a while to get back to everybody. If you haven't heard from me yet, I promise that you will. I'm writing to everyone personally, so hang in there!

:-)

Ugh. What a crazy sleep day!

I'm sick. If my sleep patterns are normally abnormal, today was extra-funky. I wasn't feeling very good last night, so I went to bed around 11:30 which is a bit early for me. Of course, I still didn't fall asleep until almost 1:00am. My alarm was set for 6:30, this being a non-meeting kind of day.

At 5:55, either hail or super hard rain woke me up. I glanced at the clock, wondered if it really was hail (it sure sounded like it), but was too tired to even reach the window next to my bed to check. I fell back asleep.

At 6:30, my alarm dutifully went off. Even though it's the best alarm clock on the planet - and I should know, I've tried them all - it's still the most annoying noise in the universe when it happens at 6:30am.

By the way, these are my alarm clocks.



The Hammacher-Schlemmer one isn't so great. I like the light, but if the light and birds chirping or whatever don't wake you up after 20 minutes or so, you still get a loud, nasty buzzer.

On the other hand, I honestly could not live without my Sharper Image Travel Soother. This thing goes everywhere with me, and wakes me up with a gentle chime that doesn't jolt me into reality. Don't get me wrong, waking up still sucks and I still hit snooze 15 times. It's just a bit less jarring.

So back to the morning. When my alarm went off at 6:30, I turned it off. I wasn't feeling well, and I wasn't thinking clearly, and quite frankly, I pretty much forgot that I had to go to work. Luckily, the studio apartment behind me is vacant and the walls are thin. Right about 9:15, I woke up to the management company showing the place. "You can see that the kitchen is small, so you can reach everything easily." I wanted to wake up enough to say, "And you can hear that the walls are so thin that you'll never have a private conversation. And please, don't move in if you have a microwave and plan to use it before noon. Your neighbors would like to sleep." Unfortunately, I was too tired to get the words out.

I did, however, drag myself out of bed at 9:30 and e-mail in sick for the day. I struggled to stay awake, but the illness got the better of me and I crashed on my couch at 1:30. When I woke up, it was already dark, and the DVR was glowing 6:22pm.

I worried for a minute about what that meant for my sleeptime at night, but I shouldn't have bothered. Despite the daytime crashout, I was tired at my usual time and fell asleep somewhere between 1:30 and 2:00am, waking up at 9:30 on Friday. Oops. Guess I'm working at home again today. What are they gonna do? Fire me?

Thank god it's the weekend soon.

The Burgermare

I rush into the office, late again. Glancing at the clock, I see that it's 11:15. Today was not the day to be late. Again.

I dump my laptop at my desk and frantically search for my boss, who is nowhere to be found. I absolutely have to find him, you see, because, well, I'm quitting. Today is the day. I can't stand this for even one more second. It has to be today.

I stick my head into a conference room, where I'm greeted by several questioning faces. I've wandered into a design meeting that's already started. I should be joining them now, not standing at the door asking stupid questions. My boss is not there, but there's a judge sitting at the head of the table. I ask him if he's seen my boss. He tells me that he saw him this morning, but that I'm too late. He left at 9:30 today. Why wasn't I here on time?

I think quickly and realize that the judge can take my resignation. So I ask, "Do you have a minute to speak to me?" He says no, he had time before the meeting but not now.

Resigned, I find the Coffeebot in the kitchen. I love these things. Single servings, simple, no brainpower required before noon. Pop in a pod, press a button, and ahhh!!!! Insta-caffeine. As I'm waiting for the Coffeebot to spit out my sanity-in-a-cup, the judge emerges from the conference room. He tells me that he can, in fact, meet with me.

All I have to do is explain to him why, exactly, I was late. Why I'm always so lazy? Why everybody else can make it to work on time, except me? Why I'm so unfocused, run-down, so different from the energetic, ambitious person they interviewed four short months ago?

His voice gets louder and louder. More accusing, more threatening. He's standing between me and the Coffeebot, which is teasing me with the whoosh of steam that lets me know that my coffee is ready and I'm about to be Saved. I reach for it, but my hand gets caught in the judge's robe. He's screaming now, and everyone else is joining him.

Then I wake up, in a panic! What time is it????? Did I sleep through my alarm again? Am I really going to be late and miss my boss this morning?

But no. I relax back into my pillow and close my eyes. It's a holiday. I haven't missed anything. D-Day - the day I quit my job because of delayed sleep phase syndrome - isn't until tomorrow. I've just had. . . a Burgermare!!

Giving credit where it's due, I have to admit that "Burgermare" is not my word. My boyfriend coined it way back in the day, when he was flipping burgers in college to make his Geo payment. We've all experienced them though, those nightmares about work stress. The work is different now - and so is the car - but the stress is still there.

I had decades that were blissfully Burgermare-free. Years of freelance, adjunct, and consulting jobs that weren't contingent on my being in a certain place at a certain time every single day - or if they were, I got to pick that time. Bliss!! I never knew how good I had it.

But one day I felt like I had to grow up and get a "real" job. I took a research position with a local corporation, complete with a Herman Miller non-cubicle, the Coffeebot, conference calls to London and 9:00am meetings. Oh, and flexible hours! Did I mention the flexible hours? I can come in as late as 10:00 - except on those meeting days, of course. Which are pretty much every day. And the 45 minute commute? Well, turns out it's an hour and 45 minutes during rush hour. And don't forget, there's no parking near the office. The company conveniently provides a parking garage about half a mile away. Add 15 minutes to the morning for the walk. What does that add up to? Do the math. It means leaving my house by 7:00am every morning. Getting up at 6:00. Setting the alarm for 5:30 because I know it'll take several snoozes before I even notice it. 6:30 on a good day, when I don't have an early meeting. Which is, it turns out, pretty much never.

That's 5:30. AM. Morning.

What on earth was I thinking??????

Four months later, I sit here exhausted. Run-down. Physically and emotionally beat up. I flash back to childhood, when I went from a private school that started at 9:30 to a public school that started at 7:10, igniting a morning battle between me and my mom that lasted until I left home.

Let the Burgermares begin.

I knew that I had a delayed sleep phase. I was diagnosed with it years ago, and have even participated in a scientific study on the matter. Unfortunately, even though researchers are gaining a better understanding of circadian rhythm disorders, there's still very little we can do to try to manage the condition. There is certainly no "cure" and no common understanding of how hard it is to live out of sync. It's often viewed as a moral issue, and we find ourselves subjected to socially constructed norms about time and work that just don't work for us.

I've been one of the lucky ones, with a career that's allowed me to accommodate my late sleep phase the vast majority of the time. I don't know if I deliberately chose that, but I did deliberately rule out certain careers that I knew required early hours - like law school. Now? I'm a sociologist. Graduate school nurtured me, let me work during my best hours, and sheltered me from the real world. When the real world hit me, it was devastating. I always believed that I could wake up early if I had to, that I could adjust to a "normal" schedule. It's painfully clear now that I cannot. This is beyond my control.

I've submitted my resignation and I'll be returning to my previous consulting firm. My work there is a godsend. I will never underestimate the value of working with people who value the product of your work far more than they value the time of day you do it. When you have DSPS, that's priceless.

I will, however, be starting a study of my own. I didn't realize how damaging and difficult it is to live with DSPS in the everyday 9-5 world. I have a lot of questions. Why didn't I tell my company about my DSPS? Why do I feel judged for something that, to me, is so obviously out of my control? Why didn't I believe it was out of my control for all those years? Why don't HR departments know about this? How do other people cope? What careers do they choose? Does it affect our parenting choices (I have not had children)? Does DSPS exist in other cultures?

Mostly, I want to share our experiences with those who don't understand us. If you want to share your story and raise awareness of circadian rhythm disorders, I'd love to talk to you. Please e-mail me at DSPSresearch@gmail.com and tell me a little about yourself and how DSPS affects your life. Let's tell our stories, and strive for change.

Ban the Burgermares!