Let Me Sleep or Prepare to Die.

Today my hairdresser text me to postpone my hair cut appointment due to sick littles at her house. In the midst of our conversation I wished her well and my hopes that she would be able to catch up on her beauty sleep. She laughed and lamented the need to catch up on a LOT of beauty sleep. Aw, sleep, how I loveth thee. So much that I hereby warn my lovelies that if you mess with my sleep you may die. Don't believe me? Ha, good luck with that.  

Not long ago I read a compelling article about the increase in postpartum depression in women because there is an expectation to forego sleep because you're the mom and that's what you do. It posed some really staggering statistics about the increase in depression and mental illness in the early days of a new baby because the mamma is so damn tired.  Why does it have to be that way? Let the mama take a nap already!

I'll be perfectly honest with all of you that my biggest fear of being pregnant isn't actually being pregnant. It's the after-my-baby-is-born part. I know that I'm 100% capable of being a kick ass mom, but I don't know if my brain can do it. I'm a planner and a calculated maker of choices and the unknown of what might happen postpartum, based on my history, is hella scary. But, I digress....sort of.

So, why am I so cray about sleep? Well, two words: zombie redhead. I mean, let's be honest, I'm an unfiltered, sassy pants when I'm rested and fed. Do you really want to mess with the alternate version of Ray? Hint: the answer is N-O. All joking aside, I really am a believer in the immense power of sleep. While I was a teenager, my family would attend church at 9 am every Sunday. It was a contest to see who could eat lunch and be down for a nap the fastest after we got home. It was a win-win for my mom that all of her children inherited their dad's champion napping skills because it meant she had guranteed quiet time. I looked forward to my Sunday nap and I still do. As a busy teen, I needed those 2-4 hours to recharge my brain for the next week. This continued as a college student and in to my adult life. At one point in my career I lived close enough to my office that I could sneak in a 15 minute nap on my lunch hour. Those power naps saved me during a very trying time of life

Sleep has a way of resetting my mental batteries and helping me cope with just about anything. It grounds me during the storm.  When I've had a rough day I generally cry it out (remember how I'm a stress crier?), take a bath, take a nap and THEN make a plan of how to handle the situation. I know myself well enough to know that making any kind of decision while I'm sad and tired is just asking for trouble. Emotionally driven decisions are generally rash and short sided.  Nap it out, then work it out.  #putthatonapillow

The other reason I'm a fighter for the cause of sleep is because I know that in any kind of depression situation, the first thing to go is sleep. I know this because I've experienced it. I've spent too many nights staring at my ceiling and the spinning overhead fan while waiting....begging....for the sleep to come and as soon as the sun came up I couldn't stay awake. It's a viscious cycle and I guard my ability to sleep when I'm meant to sleep more than anything. 

I think the best reason to let me sleep (besides not dying) is my ability to move mountains when I'm rested and recharged. Let me sleep and when I wake we can move mountains. It's so simple! 

The moral of the story: Zombie redheads aren't fun. Let the lady sleep. Trust me.

Until next time, my lovelies!

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