And here I am, awake at 3am again, but this time it is because my husband wants the cat in the bedroom. Or at least, is too soft to throw him out. That means we sleep with door open and the cat comes in and out, announcing his arrival (he is a chatty Maine Coon)ju, purring loudly and jumping on and off the bed. Sleeping isn't my best skill at any time. I'll be here till 5:30 am, when they will both get up and I'll go back to bed and hopefully to sleep.
I spent ages working out why it bothers me, and looking at the impossibility of saying anything before I went to sleep, and now I'm downstairs. The trouble is, it is so easy to use this illness as an excuse to get your own way. If I explain it to him, it feels manipulative. I know it goes back to my mothers twin views that children aren't people, but dogs are. So we had dogs lifted onto the dining table to help themselves from our plates. But saying that, in this circumstance, is playing the 'poor me' card.
I also know that keeping the cat in the room is a more recent thing. I suspect it ties in to my inability to admit my body exists, so I can't even hug him. I thought about going to sleep in the spare bed, but that seems a bit histrionic: flouncing out and making a scene isn't reasonable behaviour.
The thing is, he knows I don't share the bedroom with pets. For fourteen years, I've said that I can't have a cat on the bed, because they do the tango. He knows I have trouble sleeping, and I think he knows that being up, alone at night is my worst time. He doesn't know that for the last two nights I took unprescribed pills to stay asleep because I knew I couldn't risk waking, and tonight was intended to be a test to see how it went. Now, I can't say that either, because it would be another part of getting my own way.
I spent ages working out why it bothers me, and looking at the impossibility of saying anything before I went to sleep, and now I'm downstairs. The trouble is, it is so easy to use this illness as an excuse to get your own way. If I explain it to him, it feels manipulative. I know it goes back to my mothers twin views that children aren't people, but dogs are. So we had dogs lifted onto the dining table to help themselves from our plates. But saying that, in this circumstance, is playing the 'poor me' card.
I also know that keeping the cat in the room is a more recent thing. I suspect it ties in to my inability to admit my body exists, so I can't even hug him. I thought about going to sleep in the spare bed, but that seems a bit histrionic: flouncing out and making a scene isn't reasonable behaviour.
The thing is, he knows I don't share the bedroom with pets. For fourteen years, I've said that I can't have a cat on the bed, because they do the tango. He knows I have trouble sleeping, and I think he knows that being up, alone at night is my worst time. He doesn't know that for the last two nights I took unprescribed pills to stay asleep because I knew I couldn't risk waking, and tonight was intended to be a test to see how it went. Now, I can't say that either, because it would be another part of getting my own way.