The Insomnia Diaries: Part 1

I learned a long time ago that in the face of sleeplessness, the best medicine is a pair of welcoming arms.

I've suffered from insomnia off and on over the past few years. I don't think I slept the summer of 2012. At all. It's gotten much better since then (because heavens knows I tried every technique in the book to get to sleep that summer), but my old friend stops by for a visit once in a while. I can feel his approach too; it's curiously similar to that steady throb that develops a few hours before you're about to reunite with someone...special. Who you haven't seen in a while. 

It's not like it's any surprise either. As soon as I feel an insomniac attach coming on I can immediately trace it back to a short list of sources, all self-inflicted:

1. Sugar. 

You know how sugar makes those 5 year olds you babysit bounce off the walls? Yeah, that's me. Especially when I've been particularly noble for a few weeks running, and have barely let a molecule of it pass my lips. And then - BOOM - Cheesecake Factory for dinner. Or M&M's from a cast member at a show. Yep. It's all downhill from there.    

2. The knowledge that I have to get up early. 

I usually work evenings, which means I have nice, lazy mornings. So when I actually have to be up at a certain time, even if that time is 10 am, my brain immediately freaks out. Getting up at a certain time means I have to fall asleep by a certain time to get my 8 hours in! That's just way too much pressure. Panic ensues. Sleep does not. 

3. And just those normal what-is-the-meaning-of-life worries that arise every now and again.

Because, obviously.  

For those of you that also struggle with insomnia, I want to offer you my solidarity as a fellow-sufferer.

Know that insomnia is not the end of the world. You can live a good life, even with insomnia. Here are some of my methods for actually enjoying insomnia when it comes your way; try 'em out!: 

1. Eat a large bowl of cereal.

Just do it. Your body wants it. Gluten, dairy, who cares. Doesn't count when you can't sleep. Cheerios never tasted so good.

2. Watch Downton Abbey.

You say you're too busy for cult-inducing British dramas? Well here's your chance to catch up. Cheerios + BBC = Perfection.

3. Blog.

Duh. 

4. Perform any number of tasks for which your everyday life affords no time.

Pluck your eyebrows, give yourself a manicure, try on all your shoes, clean out your sock drawer, plan your next trip to Paris, rehearse Brad Pitt's Fight Club monologue in the mirror, make tacos, write a letter to your bestie. Whatever you want; it's fun!


5. Meditate.

Breathe deeply. It's very good for you, promise. It's good for your heart and your immune system and your lungs. And--little secret--incorporating just a few minutes of meditation into your day might actually help prevent insomnia from even happening in the first place.  

Do NOT:

1. Facebook stalk your exes. Or your childhood nemesis. Or anyone. Don't Facebook stalk anyone. Feelings of inadequacy, fear of missing out, and insomnia do not mix.


2. Continue to lie in bed thinking, "Must sleep now. Will ignore insomnia, and it will go away. Big meeting. So tired. Must. Sleep. Now." Obviously your body has other plans, so get over it. You're never going to fall asleep that way.

Those are really the only two rules.


So now, I release you! Go do something awesome with this special time to yourself. I've already finished my cereal and my blog post, so I'm gonna try that sleep thing again. Until the next bought of insomnia hits, this has been The Insomnia Diaries. 

Perfect

I’m going to write this and maybe you’re not going to agree; maybe you'll think I'm crazy.

I’m giving up on self-improvement.

My whole (long, 24 year old life) has been about self-improvement.

And the result is a deep feeling of inadequacy, always lurking, haunting my every achievement and my every failure.

Maybe I’ve just misinterpreted all the messages. Maybe I’m misinterpreting messages now. Maybe I need to keep praying that prayer I’ve been praying since I can remember: “Dear Lord, I am so unworthy of your love. Please, heal my depraved soul; it is only through you that I am made whole. Wipe me clean of my horrendous iniquity.”

What horrendous iniquity? The iniquity of eating too much chocolate and not being the skinniest girl in yoga class? The iniquity of watching YouTube videos of cats instead of memorizing my next role? The iniquity of spending my money on a daily cup of coffee? The iniquity of not daily, actively seeking Jesus Christ as my Lord and Savior? The iniquity of choosing a career that doesn’t directly feed the hungry or clothe the poor or save lives? The iniquity of discovering my bliss and doing that?

What if God created me perfect and the iniquity was only mine because that’s what I chose to create from what he gave me?

I will eat the chocolate; I will not be the skinniest. I am perfect.

I will watch YouTubes of cats and then I will pour my attention into my art when it needs me and my perfect self will learn the perfect process of my perfect art and it will just get more and more perfect.

I will have my coffee and be a local at my favorite coffee shop with my favorite hipsters and flirt with the kitchen manager and revel as often as possible in the joyful perfection that $1.90 can buy.

I will always remember my faith as a perfect pillar in my life journey, whatever it looks like now, whoever Jesus is to me now. And he will be perfectly who he should be to me yesterday, today and tomorrow.

I will pursue my perfect, self-tailored passion that doesn’t feed the hungry or clothe the poor. But maybe saves lives. Or moves them, or touches them. My song is a perfect gift and I will sing it perfectly, every chance I get. And every day, I will discover the bliss and the calling and the perfection of it all, wrapped up in my little, created self.

And by believing in my own perfection, maybe the world will see and believe too and there will be that much less darkness and fear because I am illuminated and brave and perfect.

Words

I was going to write about this in one of my earlier posts, but I thought the meaning perhaps a bit too esoteric at the time. Reaching.

However, the thought is recurring: one of the things I'm thankful for is something I was taught as a small child - that our words have meaning.

I'm most immediately thankful for this as it relates to singing. I am thankful that ever since I was old enough to sing songs, the songs I sung were ones that had a direct relationship to something higher than me.

Because I learned to sing in church.

I sang at the Thanksgiving Eve service at the church I grew up in tonight and it brought me back to a simpler time when all that was on my mind when I prepared to step on stage was how to effectively bring a message to a congregation and glorify God.

Preparing to step on stage, and stepping on stage with a message has become my whole life, but recently it's been easy to get wrapped up in the goal of making myself relevant through a performance versus delivering any sort of message at all.

Tonight I was reminded that life really can be as simple as being the vessel - singing your song and relinquishing the glory, and knowing that the words mean something. It's just my job to show up and deliver them, and hope that a small part of their purpose might be achieved.

I am thankful for this because it takes such a weight off my shoulders.

I am thankful that this is a part of my history because now it's so natural for me to find meaning in the words that I sing and say. Why sing without a message? Text and music are inseparable in what I do. And music and connection to some higher, common human emotion are inseparable.



So was that too esoteric? I talk about singing a lot. But tonight I realized that my life is about so much more and, in a way, so much less than singing. Life is simple: we've been given a message, and we must deliver it. It's just figuring out what that message is and how we are to deliver it that gets us stuck sometimes.

I am thankful for the generosity of my parents. 

Effusive Thanks.

Oops. I’m getting worse and worse at keeping up on my thankfulness. It’s been how many days since my last post? And November is almost over and I have so much to be thankful for; I don’t even know where to begin!

So I guess I’ll start by saying that as the World Traveler, I am thankful for a weekend of traveling: Baltimore to NYC to Boston and back.

One of the reasons I love traveling is that I feel that it is the thing, in that I don’t have to be doing anything other than being when I travel. When I’m stationary, I feel desperate to make myself busy, which is admittedly part of the motivation behind this Thankfulness project. I just wanted to feel good about myself by committing to doing something every day and then doing it, and crossing it off of my to-do list.

But one of the greatest life lessons any of us can learn, I’ve discovered, is that the past does not exist--it is past--and the future does not exist, it is yet to come. All that matters is this moment. And I’ve been eager to change my mindset from “life will be better when…” to “life is exactly what it should be now.”

I’m forgetful. And also hopeful and ambitious. So this lesson is difficult for me.

And thus, I am thankful for travel. For busses, and trains and planes, and destinations and the in between spaces, where I do not feel the need to do anything but sit and soak in the present. I am slowly learning contentment in all moments, and travel is the teacher. 

I’m thankful that I’ve had the opportunity to travel so much over the course of my life; I know this is not something everyone is able to experience. I am grateful for the resources that allow me to travel as much as I do, and for the support of friends and family, which keeps me traveling. Perhaps I’m alone in this, but I love the faint feeling of displacement when it is accompanied by welcome arms and tea and warm, new places.

I’m also thankful for what I do; I don’t know if I’ve articulated this amply as of yet. I’m thankful that opera found me and I’m thankful that I get a chance, however large or small it may be, to contribute to the perpetuation of something that means a lot to me. I know I more frequently express my affinity for pop culture than I speak out on behalf of my love for classical music; I feel cliché and over the top when in admitting how much this art has opened me up to new things and taught about history and culture and love in all languages. Opera is rich; it has a lot to give. I’m thankful that as I receive, my capacity to learn and appreciate only expands.

Which brings me to my next, and perhaps most important item of thankfulness: the people. I know I’ve mentioned this. I feel like I’m writing a personal statement or cover letter for some application in saying so over and over again, but the connections and lifelong friends I’ve made, many as a result of opera doings, are what it’s all about for me. These people give me so much; not only floors to sleep on and respite from the cold. We share something deep and I’m not going to be very good at articulating it. It is support, and encouragement, yes. It is solidarity and a willingness to listen. It is most of all, vulnerability on and off stage. And it makes my cry when I catch a glimpse of it because I am emotional and cry of joy often.

As the ever-wise Randall Bills says, happiness breeds happiness. I am thankful for happy people. I am thankful that I am one of those happy people and I am thankful for the opportunity to share parts of myself with those around me, and maybe make the world a little happier.