I know I know, another post about sleeping. It’s becoming a recurring theme, and I should probably make it a category. Hopefully this will be the last one though, as I struggle with the groggy demon that plagues my waking hours. This time I’m going to revisit something that’s becoming a bit more of an issue than before; waking up.
I moved the time my alarm goes up forward to 7am. I did this because I figured that my body takes 2 hours to realise that the alarm has gone off and thus I’d then wake up at 8am. I also made a deal with myself that I’d get out of bed when the alarm went off, and not bother trying to hit the snooze button. Seems I was wrong on both counts. This was all spurred by me waking up at 2pm yesterday, which is frankly disgusting.
And so my alarm went off at 7am, and I hit the snooze button in that half awake state that programs your mind with just one want, one need; to grab as many more minutes of dozing as you can clutch with your greedy, lazy eyes. Three hours later I woke up, to find I’d turned on my computer in a wild flailing attempt to grab onto something in the waking world, forcing me to leave my snuggly prison. Obviously, it failed, and I was forced to rush to the kitchen, make some toast, get dressed and head to the gym before my mind figured it was too late.
I’m really not sure what my next step shall be in the war on unconsciousness. Despite rousing me, my alarm seems to ultimately fail in securing the territory of wakefulness. Obviously that preliminary invasion is only enough to make things worse, removing any governance my tyrannical dream-mind had over me, turning me into some petulant snooze-hitter. It’s a sorry state of affairs. Maybe I need a change of approach, the sort of change I could believe in.