I want a good night sleep. Last night, I went to bed fully tired around 11 p.m.
In my sleep, I thought I was still in Bangkok where I slept on a King size bed in oversize t-shirt and shorts. Naturally, when Brandon tried to cuddle last night, I freaked out.
“Who the fuck is in my bed and why am I naked???”
Anyway. I was seriously disoriented for a good minute before I got up to check the clock.
It was 12:30 something.
WHAT? What do you mean I napped for an hour and a half? I felt like I have been sleeping for hours!
There was no going back to bed after that. Not until almost 3 a.m. Even so, I was still tossing about for another good hour, I think.
I fucking hate jet lag.
And after I have arrived back, at least 2 people have just told me about melatonin pills I could have taken to help with all of this madness. Murphy’s law, indeed.
Melatonin is a hormone that helps regulate our sleep-wake cycles. The “staying in the sun” thing helps slow down the production of melatonin and therefore helps get you back to your schedule a little bit. Not a lot, but it helps. I think it helps me.
I didn’t know if I could still function when I get home, so I had to yet again ditched the Girls Night Out. Face plant into my dinner isn’t what I have in mind. Instead, Brandon and I took a walk in evening sun to grab junk food.
The sun did feel good. It lifts my mood.
After 2 days of answering to the good natured “How was your vacation?” with “It wasn’t really a vacation,” and “Oh. And why not?” with “My mom’s sick”, and then “I hope she feels better soon,” with “She’s dying, but thanks anyway”, I’m kind of done.
Every time I say “my mom’s dying”, it hurts. I say it with such disdain that somehow a few folks mistake it for bravery, like I said it out loud and not getting all emotional.
It’s the whole anger thing. Nothing to do with bravery or courage or whatever.
But I can’t stop people from asking the questions. I tried to avoid answering them by going around the subject and somehow it has to come back to “My mom’s dying” because there was no other way to put it.
Much like my lame attempt at fighting off jet lag, talking about my terminally ill mother isn’t something I can avoid or control. I just have to go with the flow. Rest when I can and keep up when I am needed. Something can help makes it all easier like melatonin pills for jet lag and perhaps a few beers for the emotional burden, but there is no miracle cure.
Only time can put you back together.
ETA: Here is a clip of the front page of this edition. I wish I have a better image, but pretty much that whole fatality stats from the South is not even on the front page. Yet, the pink armband takes most of the space.