Day 575: Hip Vs. Drugs Vs. Sleep

I am definitely Of An Age at which I can say “oh, my hip.” It’s been acting up the last few days — no running today, just a moderate row — and we have some painkillers in the house that my wife can’t take, because she doesn’t do well with the acetaminophen component.

They get rid of the hip pain but they make me sleepy, and then I don’t sleep well at night because I’ve been sleepy all day.

My wife’s going booze-free for 40 days, starting today; we’re both trying sugar-free from now until the end of August in an attempt to kick out a kind of plateau we’ve settled on over the summer.

Right now, though, I’m literally trying to just keep my eyes open. I’ve been inspired by my friend Adam, who is coffee-free for a while now, to try easing out of coffee once I run out of beans in the house. This may be something I need to time over a weekend or some point where it’s okay if I’m super low performance for a few days in a row…

 

Day 286: Never Drink Late Coffee

The one-two punch of drinking coffee after dinner (dumb) and some pretty junky stuff at work (annoying) have led to a truly brutal night. So I’m rocking about five hours of sleep right now, and looking at a full day due to a pretty big volunteer responsibility this afternoon.

Have you ever signed on for something because it needed to be done, and regretted it? That’s where I’m at. A big, tedious chunk of volunteerism that I just don’t want to do. But needed doing. And nobody else was doing it.

I can feel some fraying around the edges when it comes to the volunteer work these days. Not that I don’t like doing it, but frustration at other people for not stepping up. Which… it’s hard to figure out what’s fair to feel. Everyone’s got their own lives. They’ve got their own stresses. But at least as far as the radio stuff goes, it feels like there’s dozens of people who are only in it for the fun bit, and about eight that are really there to do the work. I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t frustrating.

What to do about that is something else entirely. I’m not sure there is anything. I can control my own volunteerism, and the volunteers, collectively, get the organization they deserve. So if I have to dial back for my own mental health, and nobody else steps up… that’s not really on me. I’ve done my bit.

A few fantasies over the last few days of taking six months of doing nothing — no courses, no volunteer work. Just my job and goofing off, watching movies, playing games. Probably worth investigating.

 

Day 220: Morning coffee

I love me my morning coffee. Sometimes I feel like it’s yet another addiction. I’ve quit caffeine before, but it never sticks. There’s also not a lot of super compelling reasons to quit, other than the vague idea that I don’t like being beholden to something.

Four pounds over my weight goals right now, but staying on top of the sobriety, running, and sleep has actually been going pretty well. I don’t know if I’m getting cocky, but the cat has been good for three days running now. Maybe my psychic intention to not get up has leaked over.

So will better sleep — assuming I’m (finally) on the path to better sleep — reduce my passion for coffee? It’s hard to say. But it’s definitely been a crutch in the recent past. Compensating for poor sleep.

On good sleep nights, though, I still crave that coffee.

So I’m not sure if coffee craving can be used as a gauge for anything other than my ongoing addiction to caffeine.

Morning coffee gives me cigarette nostalgia.

The only other down side of morning coffee is that sometimes… not often… it gives me a clear flashback to my smoking years.

I don’t “seem like a smoker,” apparently, but there y’go. I came to it later than a lot of people, but I was half-a-pack when I lived in Quebec for a while, then tapered off. Finally quit, with my wife, for good back around 2011.

And I don’t get the cravings very often. It used to be when drinking, but that’s resolved. On certain crisp mornings, though, there’s a definite sense memory around having a cigarette and a cup of coffee on the porch that really resonates.

There’s something about past vices, I guess. Nostalgia for the bad old days. Obviously, I’m happy about the progress I’m making, but what does it say that I keep mentally calling back to bad habits?