It’s almost 9:30 today. I was up at a little before 7, taking the morning medications and waiting the hour it requires until I can have a coffee or anything other than water. It seems to take forever on the weekends, waiting for that hour until I can have a coffee to pass.
Today is my mothers 76th birthday. We are planning on visiting her early in the day, before her lunch, to avoid any kind of triggers for her anxiety. She has a little more trouble these days with having her schedule disrupted, and she likes to take a nap right after lunch, so I have to be there before 11 if I want to have any time to visit with her.
I can understand that. We all have these little patterns and rituals we use to get us through parts of our days that we might otherwise not be able to maneuver through, possibly due to not being awake/aware enough to handle a change.
Mornings are tough for my husband. He’s not cursed with “wakeupitis” as I am. I’m awake, the brain appears to be functional, I get things done in the morning. He wakes up, it’s like watching a zombie movie in action. He’s sluggish, slow, and drooling. It takes him about an hour to get enough higher brain function to think about food or pulling his pants on. After two hours, he might be able to have a conversation. It might even make sense.
Get to 10:00 o’clock at night it’s a different story. I’m winding down, like a cordless drill that’s been run too long without a charge. He’s still going strong, reading, studying, and puttering away at whatever project he’s thinking about.
Once again, the differences are what makes us work.