It could be that I had too much pizza, but it’s probably because I had pizza period that I’m awake right now at nearly 3 am. I’ve been on a plant-based diet the last two weeks, but these two weeks have also coincided with two of my five kids’ birthdays. And they, true to being my children, love pizza.
And to be honest, I only had two slices at dinner…and a 10 pm slice…
But in my pre-plant-based life (of everything before two weeks ago), I could easily have swallowed multiple pieces and not only not have felt uncomfortable and awake at odd hours. I would have been completely unphased.
Why now? Why this? Why 3 am?
It could be the pizza. It could be something else. Or something elses.
Convo about toxic people came up too tonight. Was it too much convo? Too many slices of that? Or was it the rehashing of hurt from memories of toxicity in my life? There again, I’m not sure. I’m kind of too tired to overanalyze. Let’s leave it at toxic people and convo about toxic people and that the toxic aftermath of that could be cause for the mental indigestion that followed.
A carb-induced slumber had overtaken me into a face-first-in-the-couch-pillow position before 11 pm. But that was not restful. Instead, that fitful hour or two was full of dreams which included toxic people, influenced from said toxic people convo earlier. And all the while glutenous pizza sat hard in my stomach adding its own discomfort.
Thirty-something old me was turning over a handmade quilt of all colors for a six-year old, me rotating the blanket from front to back, looking for the right squares and making scissor decisions for a school project. It seemed we were planning a kind of strand of rags to use either as over-the-bed decorations or Burmese prayer flags. In the process, we realized we were standing in a musty garage, one with the cement floors that were damp. Damp spots became puddles as we gained awareness of our surroundings. Which led me to look up and see that we were closed in by dozens and dozens of old mattresses that had been quasi-stacked in every spare foot of space. Mattresses that belonged in a dump.
I lifted my face out of the couch pillow, shuddering, and tried to shake the images from my mind. My hair fell in my face. I glanced my watch, the living room lights much too bright for 12:34 am. Husband nowhere to be found, I staggered upstairs and plunged into bed.
Sleep nowhere to be found, I tossed and turned.
Like a lady in labor, I flipped from position to position. Hot, tired, annoyed, looking for some other object–pillows, blankets, ah ha–husband!!–to stuff my feet and hands under, I simply could come to no comfortable place. “It’s so hot in here,” I complained to my at–the-cusp-of-sleep husband. “What? It’s freezing,” he answered. He’s insane.
Insomnia is not a typical problem for me. Like Cinderella’s golden carriage, I turn into a pumpkin each night–except approximately three hours prior to midnight. I then pop up full of art and ambition between 5-6 am. But having ingested pizza, a favorite among the whole fam, and all that convo reflecting on hurt and harm and what-have-you, I pumpkined out and then, well, I don’t know, rotted?? Whatever the metaphor, these toxins left me stirred up, unsettled, and sleepless.
Moral of the story.
Less pizza. So much less pizza. Maybe no more pizza. Or a cheese-less one. And a meatless one. Maybe just no pizza. No pizza may mean no grease-pie-induced indigestion.
The toxicity conversation is another one I need to tackle. But I think as I have less clarity about the toxicity of my convo time than I do about the salt-and-cheese carb bomb–I think that I can save that for another day…or as is more likely, night.
So I’m starting with the return to that plant-based plan. I’m hoping for a drop in stuffiness, sleeplessness, and scratchiness.
Wish me luck!