I have to praise you like I should

There is something catchy about FatBoy Slim's "Praise You" that I really like.  I'm sure that it drives some folks bonkers, cuz it is very repetitive, but I like that simplicity and it falls in line with my admiration of "tell me something good" and the encouraging endorsement of being appreciated and appreciating others and tell them so.

The reason I've been thinking about these things is because my husband has been so very loving, caring, supportive, accepting, and a bunch of other exceptional qualities that I'm sure my friends get sick of me harping about ~~ literally harping, I have a tiny harp that I whip out and flutter my fingers across while singing his praises.  Did that just make you throw up a lil in your mouth?  Good, that serves your cynically jaded self right.

I've been extremely exhausted for quite some time.  Dreams, nightmares, night~terrors, jumbled and jangled, and when I awake, I'm exhausted.  It would seem humorously ironic, to be exhausted from sleep; but it isn't.  It's terrifying.  Cuz your mind begins to play tricks on you, or at least mine does.  Humans are meant to get sleep, restful, restive, peaceful, lovely sleep.

In the past, nappage has served to provide a great gap to give relief when I've had a rough night.  But that doesn't even seem to be working well anymore.  I easily reach the depths of REM, where the ongoing twisted adventure of anxiety awaits to suck me down and spit me out, even more exhausted than before I slipped between the covers.

Yes, I am addressing this with both my counselor and my pDoc {in this case, she is a nurse~practitioner who specializes in psychiatry~~I'm loving this woman to the nth degree, esp since it took so long for me to find her}.  I've been yappling about it of late with just about anyone who knows me, including unknown folks like you and you and that guy over there with the gum in his hair.

My husband has been right along with me, offering to slay the beasts and demons in my dreams.  He's my hero, always.  Thing is, he can't enter my dreams at will.  I can't seem to control much in the way of my dreams, either.  So his suggestion of calling him forth into my dreams to save the day isn't really viable, tho it is so sweet and loving that it almost makes me cry.  Which these days, it doesn't take much to make me weep, lack of peaceful restive sleep can wreck all kinds of havoc.

I know I haven't been posting much, or often.  Part of that is simply life events and part of that is lacking the energy to focus well.  However, that may be changing.

I have been knitting afghans, lapghans, fashion scarvettes, shawls, and caps.  Some pix are forth coming.  Also, I've been rereading Susan Wittig Albert's The Cottage Tales of Beatrix Potter.  It's a series that I'd begun a few years back, but since she's published more, so I've reread the first few so that I know where I am in the story line.  I'm enjoying them, even if they do take me awhile to get thru...I end up reading paragraphs several times before I realize that I'm not retaining anything and need to pick this up some other time.

In a way, all this seems very similar to ten years ago...with the huge difference that I'm not quite so panicked about it and also that my husband lends me a security that gives me the chance to feel safe in facing these things.  He deserves all my love and he has it!!