Some days . . . this was one of them

I was on my game today, despite obtaining only one hour of sleep this morning, due to my sleep disorder.  I told you, I’m a mess.  I’ve been diagnosed for 12 years, it kinda dominates my life if left untreated.  I think about the time I started my treatment was when my spouse lost interest in me sexually.  Yeah, so I’m having a week, here.

I am under treatment for my disorder, I treat it every night with the machine, the “apparatus”.  The problem really is that some nights, I put my head back on the pillow, and I fall asleep so fast I don’t have the opportunity to don the apparatus first, and I awaken at 5:00 in the morning, having been “asleep” but not really sleeping all night — gasping for breath for want of the apparatus, just unconscious enough to be physically paralyzed as if I were sleeping, and unaware of any disturbance in my sleep, gulping just enough air to remain alive all night.  So I’m not rested.  I think that SO hates the machine, it is not attractive in any way, except in what it does for me – it gives me a life I would not otherwise be healthy enough to enjoy.  So while the machine is not sexy in any way, I think I’m a lot more fun to be around when I am rested like a normal person.

Ironically, she now snores like a chainsaw, and I can’t sleep in the same bed with her.  this has been 6 months now.  We are sleeping in separate beds, I am upstairs, she is in the master.   She knows my history, but now, as I put two and two together, she’s turned off by the apparatus, she considers it an outward sign of my defectiveness.  She develops a sleep disorder, probably due to her weight gain, and she refuses to go see the doctor for a sleep disorder study to see if she has a diagnoseable and treatable condition.  Why?  Don’t know.  I believe that is the status quo, most likely, because she does not want to have to don the apparatus every night, which poses the danger of, <gasp> potentially being seen by others as also “defective.”

I don’t know what the real story is, but this is the scenario that keeps running through my head.  Does it seem the obvious solution because it is a singularly fascinating conundrum upon which I am fixated, unable to consider other, less damning and more chaotically random possible solutions?  Or is it the truth, and I keep coming back to it because it is the simplest, and therefore perhaps the only explanation that makes sense to me.

Can you see how much of my life I live inside my head?  In my defense I have tried to talk with her on this level before, and she shuts down, which is very, very curious to me also.  She typically has been very assertive with me in the past, and is generally not afraid to speak her mind openly in our conversations, especially about things that bother her, and especially when issues in that realm stem from some of my behavior, whether intentional or not.

I don’t have to tell you about my mood of late, it has been hard for me to get enthused about anything, anymore.  That bad.

Kisses, KM


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