Sometimes, better than utterly rubbish, is as good as my strategies get

I kind of had the idea this week to try and go to bed at 10 every day.* Then I decided that was too easily failable a goal so I amended it for a vaguer “as often as I can manage” (less specific, more acheivable, SMART eat your heart out).

Well, I managed one ten o’clock bedtime. Last night I watched Dr Who in bed with Mr Aisfor (technology in bed = bad, but doing stuff with husband = good, plus I wasn’t actually scared witless for once so I’m calling that as ok).

Tonight, I fell asleep putting kids to bed. In my daughters bed. Then I woke enough to decamp to my bed. This is good, I think, I’m obviously tired, I will sleep till morning and feel better, that counts as an extra early bedtime score.

WRONG. I decamp to my bed but then wake enough to lie there remembering bad things. Not Really Bad Things, just Mildly Rubbish Things. Specifically the time, age about 17 (or was it 19), my friend sold me a festival ticket last minute as she was ill. It was ok, I could meet up with her brother and his friends. She described his tent and car. I got my parents to drive me there and the queue of trafic was immense. I got inside the site. I hadn’t been to a festival before. It was huge. There were many tents and many cars matching the description but none together. Probably at this point rich people in London had mobile phones the size of hand luggage, but no-one I knew had heard of them (unless they’d seen them on Tomorrow’s World – remember that program?). I had no idea what to do. I wandered round a bit and felt very very lost. I was lugging a tent. I didn’t know where to pitch it as I didn’t know where was near the people I was trying to meet up with (I was becoming increasingly aware that they weren’t actually really my friends). I didn’t want to leave it unpitched and easily nickable. Eventually, actually not eventaully, after a little wandering around hoping for something miraculous to happen, I gave up, walked back to civilisation, got a train to my home town and hid at my friends house for the weekend so as not to admit my failure to my parents and pretended (probably very unconvincingly) that I’d had a great time.

All in all, not too bad. Yes, a bolder person than me may have pitched the tent anyway and had a great time and met new friends, but then again they might not. A meeker (wiser?) person than me wouldn’t have gone on their own. Possibly I should have found out a Message Wall thingy and written the people I was trying to meet up with a message about when/where to meet, but would they have read it?

Anyway, like I say, nothing too bad. But the feeling, the memory wouldn’t go away and pretty soon it had a bunch of other similarly rubbish memories coming out to play with it. After a while I decided lying there not feeling good was not doing me any good. So I noodled the internet (including catching up on Bake Off – which I missed when away – just bread week, no controversy yet). And now I’m still awake at 11.30. So again – not an amazing tactic, but better than lying there feeling increasingly rubbish.

Do I go downstairs and find out what Mr Aisfor is doing? Heaven forfend do I go and Talk To Him? Do I check he remembered to make sandwiches for the kids first day back tomorrow? Do I take it out on this intriguing looking recipie (and if I do do I use some of my vast stocks of bread flour I accidentally bought instead of plain, I guess that would be in the “use what you’ve got” spirit of the author)? Do I noodle on the internet some more? Why am I feeling so hot? (Not cold hot, not the other kind0 Do I make myself a milky drink? Or will I just eat loads of crap if I enter the kitchen?

I think I might start with the sandwiches (for the kids, probably), at least if I wake up late and tired tomorrow it’ll be one less thing to do.

Egg Mayonaise it is then.

*I read a lot of sewing blogs (or “use the internet to look at pictures of women in clothes” as my other half calls it). They often have Sew-A-Long type things, hosted by a particular blog and then everyone makes the same pattern, or somesuch, at the same time, and there are buttons to put on your blog and shared tips and messages and bloglinks and prizes. I’m sometimes wonder if it would work for mental health, if it could make things celebratory rather than stigmatized (says little miss scaredy pants anonymous blogger). I’m not sure how to do it. I wondered briefly if we could have a communal “get to bed at a sensible time”-a-long, maybe 10-4-7 a long (as in got to bed by 10 for 7 days), but then I remembered something I read about reward charts for kids and how asking them to do something X number of times for reward is a bad idea as as soon as they don’t manage it that’s all motivation blame, which is when I went less specific, and the #SensibleBedtime-A-Long went out the window at the same time. (OK, I admit, I was also afraid of being a Billy No Mates too and no one joining in).

4 thoughts on “Sometimes, better than utterly rubbish, is as good as my strategies get

  1. I struggle with bedtime, too. I want 10 but it is usually 10:30-11:00. I feel like it takes so long to get the kids down that I don’t have enough time to sit down on my own or with Mr. Spouse, and so 10 just isn’t feasible.

    I also lie there mulling and obsessing!

  2. Pingback: Failing to start as we mean to go on | A is for Anxiety

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