When I’m as tired as I am today, running on about an hour of sleep and countless cups of tea, the world just seems less welcoming. Every task that’s necessary to

Photo Courtesy of furryscaly – creativecommons.org

perform becomes five times as arduous, leading to my development of a variety of coping mechanisms.
Usually the first to be established is one that shaves off unnecessary, but commonly executed steps used to complete a task. For example, this morning, I buttered my toast with my pointer finger, thereby eliminating the need to walk over from the toaster to the utensil drawer, open the weighty thing, grab a butter knife, close said weighty utensil drawer, and walk back to the toaster area. I also just realized that I saved myself an extra dish to wash. All of these little steps, believe it or not, add up by the end of the day. By the end of today, I’ll have expended about half as much energy as the average American and feel as though I slept for at least six hours the previous night.
Walking somehow becomes a major inconvenience that I try to avoid. Unfortunately, I can’t just sit or lay around all day; if I could, I’d probably try and go back to bed. On those occasions when I absolutely must exert myself, I find myself resorting to affirmations. I repeat to myself things like, that’s right, legs; good work! And, good, right leg, now try and coordinate your movement with the left leg! Sometimes I see my legs as siblings, other times I see them as friends; Just follow the example of your sister (or buddy) over there, she’s got the hang of it!
When the affirmations don’t work, I have to fall back on both my sense of morality and of sentimentalism. I tell myself that I have an urgent purpose that requires walking. In this circumstance, I shout out things in my head such as, We must rescue the puppies before it’s too late! We’re the only ones that can save them. Of course, the we is comprised of only myself and my two legs.
These approaches typically suffice until my morning coffee has sent its magical little signals (I’m awful with chemistry and the science behind my neurons and all that which explains how my mind functions at all) to my brain and induces me to rattle throughout the rest of my day. At around 8pm, when the coffee begins to wear off, I usually have had an uncommonly productive day and am prepared for the caffeine to wear off, flopping around the bedroom with mechanically even-paced movements, clad in John’s navy blue sweatpants. By 8:30, I’m ready to be handed a cuddly stuffed animal and tucked in. But at least I end up with twelve hours of sleep and my eyes end up looking fairly normal the following day.