Thanks to a strict food plan I follow to keep the binge-eating disorder in its box, I’m not walking around a bloated mess like I used to. Instead, I gorged on something else yesterday.
Mood music:
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=axzRdFOYpqg&fs=1&hl=en_US]
I napped in the morning, I napped in the afternoon and I have no regrets.
I’ve always had an interesting relationship with sleep.
Back when I was slowly destroying myself, I would fall asleep at all the wrong times: In a restaurant while someone was talking to me, during moments of what was supposed to be catch-up time with Erin, and behind the wheel.
I still nod off early. But I’m up at 4 a.m. almost every morning. I don’t have to be. I just happen to open my eyes at that point. I can’t seem to help it. So by 7 or 8 p.m., it catches up to me.
For the most part, though, I only average about six hours of sleep a night. Sometimes, I get less than that.
When you don’t get at least eight hours of sleep a night for an extended period of time, it catches up with you. In my case, I go into cycles of depression. I feel doom and gloom for no good reason.
Erin knows this, and has been diligent in making me go to bed earlier, even when I’d rather be awake doing other things. 
I usually don’t give the sleep issue much thought, because my demons are rooted in many other, more insidious habits. But a friend of mine was just diagnosed with severe depression, and this dude has had a batshit-crazy sleep schedule for many years now. He gets into his office by 4 a.m. so he can leave early, but doesn’t really go to sleep until around 10 or later. Now it’s caught up with him.
Apparently it caught up to me yesterday. But it wasn’t the anxiety-driven kill switch that kicks in from time to time. This was a no-regrets trip to la-la land. Well, I regret it a little. I wanted to be up later to spend quality time with Erin, because she’s been working crazy hours lately and quality time is hard to come by. Last night I blew it on that score.
But looking at Thanksgiving day as a whole, it was much, much better than stuffing myself until I wanted to be dead.
The perfect balance still escapes me, but who really has the perfect balance anyway?