Really Extreme Dislike

Hate is such an ugly word, a stong word. I'm sure we've all heard that before (and if you haven't, now you have). But it really is. "To disklike instensely or passionaltely; to feel extreme aversion or hostility toward." And when I use it, I typically feel this sense of anger towards whatever I'm using "hate" to describe, cold weather, tea that burns my mouth, reckless drivers, hearing my neighbors playing guitar and singing while I'm attempting to sleep. I get ANGRY and annoyed and frustrated and the only thing I can think about is how must I HATE THAT ___ (fill in the blank here)! And that leads to me being an unhappy and not-fun person.

I'm thinking about this because last night, I did hear my neighbors. A LOT. I should probably preface this little story with this: I don't like my neighbors. Ironic because much of my job is helping students learn how to be good neighbors. Everything started off fine; they were nice, quiet, introduced themselves. Good neighbors even if they did have a band, I couldn't hear them playing in my bedroom. Then the only female living in the house moved out and things started to get louder. Last semester, I spent 80% (a made up but fairly accurate statistic) of my nights sleeping in my guest room because the person sharing a bedroom wall with me watched TV to fall asleep. And during the day. And in the mornings. And basically ALL THE TIME. And it was LOUD. Then there was the loudly whining dog they would leave alone for hours at a time. Or they would be at home and let it whine. And the time one of their guests walked into my house. There was other stuff too but that's not the focus of this post.

Last night, it started about 8:30, loud talking, chatting, some music playing, etc. The usual. Then the guitar playing began. I made it through some DVR and prepared for bed, still listening to wall music I didn't want to hear. I tried closing all my doors and turning on my fan but I could still hear it. I moved my stuff (high maintenance sleeper, remember?) to the guest room. Door closed, fan on and then the singing started. I thought "I HATE MY NEIGHBORS!" and then that was all I could hear, them being loud. I was so angry that even after they quieted down, I still thought I could hear them, like I developed super-sonic hearing and could hear them breathing. I was SO ANGRY.

While on the way to work this morning, tired from my night of angry sleep, I thought "HATE" again when a rude Jeep cut me off. And then I finally thought "what's the use?" I mean, I'm already tired so why waste the energy I do have on being angry at things I can't change. Why dislike something "passionately" when I can direct that towards something positive? Why foster this "extreme hostility," so much so that there's no room in there for anything positive? So I tried some deep breathing (it was hard because the air was real cold and I was drinking hot tea) and just carried on about my day. Of course, it totally helped that I picked a good lane and passed her later when she wasn't paying attention to the road (don't text and drive people!). Moral of the story/post: I'm trying to avoid using the word hate.

Sleep

I love sleeping. Love it. And I'm good at it, at least now. In grad school, there were times that I would be awake for hours, just laying there trying to fall asleep. I would get so frustrated or get this idea in my head that I couldn't get out and I just couldn't sleep. This would usually lead to tears (read: sobbing) of frustration until I either a) broke down and called someone to have a sleep over or b) cried myself to sleep. (Thanks for everyone who ever answered a semi-hysterical insomniac phone call from me and allowed me to come over and sleep in your bed.) Sometimes I would be running on 4 hours a sleep a night for days at a time. Now, some people only need four hours of sleep a night. I am not, have never been, one of those people.

I'm a notoriously high maintenance sleeper. Ever since freshman year, when our room was so stinkin' hot we could barely breathe, I've been sleeping with a table fan running. It started out as a comfort thing but now the noise soothes me. I find it difficult to sleep without it. And if there's noise, heaven forbid, I can hear it. Somedays I'm concerned I'm going partially deaf but as soon as I lay down to go to sleep, I develop bionic hearing. If you snore, prepare to be kicked. I HATE snoring. It's my nails-on-a-chalkboard noise. Ask my family. I tortured them enough trying to get my dad to stop snoring on family trips, to no avail. I also like three pillows, two under my head and one under my knees. I also like to be crowded in my bed. I like things around me, not too much space. I don't know why this is but I like things in my bed, extra pillows, several blankets, my dog, you name it. If it all comes together for me, then I can sleep a good 10 hours if you let me. It's like that saying I've seen on magnets and napkins and various other things, "Damn right I'm good in bed. I can sleep for days."

These days, I like a solid 8 hours of sleep. Fortunately, I usually get it. I can handle the odd night out, late movie, social that restricts me to 6 hours, or even 4. But if it happens in multiples, then you get sleep deprived Margaret. And let me tell you, she is NOT fun. I get cranky; I can't think well; my stomach's all off so all I want is junk food... In short, I am not a nice person and I don't get things done. This concerns me because at some point in my life, I would like to have children. The question now is whether I can handle being seriously to moderately sleep deprived for years at a time and not drive my future husband to divorce. Does being a mom release some hormone that helps your brain need less sleep? Do you develop immunity to the heinous symptoms of sleep deprivation? I can only hope, for the sake of my future marriage and children, that something happens where I can function on less sleep. Otherwise, I'm pretty sure someone will try to check me into the loony bin. Which I may enjoy if I get to sleep.