New Best Friends My Mom Hasn't Paid Off

It needs to be at least three times this big!

My room-mate comes back from New Zealand today. Not only did she go traveling by herself (unsafe) she left me with the place to myself for a month (unsafe). Or so I thought... (not that it was unsafe, I knew that, but that I was alone). I discovered there are teeny little ants in my kitchen, usually only about three at a time, and well... I love them. At first I thought they were a nuisance - I was accustomed to squishing giant ants at my old place which made a nice crunching sound - so I flicked one of these little ants off the counter and then instantly felt remorse as I watched it's minuscule little body soar across the kitchen. I actually got depressed. You see, they look like baby ants, and I love babies. Plus there are so few ants at one time that it's hard to see them as pests and not, well, visitors. Would I flick my visitors away? (Depends on the visitor). Would I flick my baby visitors away? (No! Shaken baby syndrome, hello!) Anyway I noticed when Krista left I started talking to my ant visitors. It just happened all of a sudden, like it was completely natural to start talking to ants. I heard myself say "Hi," and felt ridiculous for a second then got over it a little too quickly for a sane person and shouted, "Oh no!" when I  noticed one got stuck in a drop of water, or to them, a giant lake that came out of nowhere. I like to imagine they are the same ants each time and that they now recognize my voice and will come when I beckon them. I think I'm going insane. I feel quite fond of my ants. To the point where I feel bad when I clean the counter because then there won't be any food for them. To the point where I saw one of the ants carrying a quite large crumb and felt ridiculously proud of him. To the point where I thought I crippled one with a tub of flour and felt sick seeing him hobble away. I wonder if I'm trying to fill the void that losing my dog has left. If I am, it's going to take quite a few ants. Kezzie was a small dog, but she was at least fifty times bigger. And fluffy. And adorable. And oh gosh I miss her...

Abruptly and insensitively moving on once again, the strange thing is, I also have other visitors and I despise them. Silverfish. I see one and I instantly murder it. But can they help how creepily they run along? Can they help that they are called Silverfish which somehow seems extra creepy? (I hear Silverfish and I think, "You're a fish! You should be in water! You have no business having those extremely fast moving legs.") No. They can't. What is this hypocrisy inside of me? How deep does it go? I don't know. But I also plan on continuing to kill my Silverfish without remorse and I plan on saying "hi" to my ant friends when I get home and maybe making a mess on purpose to help them feed their massive family.

Now, I haven't really wanted to blog, because I often feel that it is quite self-centered, and I question whether I only enjoy it for the attention (I am a notorious attention-seeker). I mean, why else would someone write a blog about their own life? Who cares about the crazy things I think and say and do? And yet there are people who actually do, and that amazes me. So I'll keep writing them, but they will be peppered with confessions of my failings and examples of how when Faith tries to bring attention to herself, she fails. Just think of it this way, Faith = failure. Oh no, that won't work. Dang you real-word names, always confusing my identity! As a child I didn't even know what gender I was, I thought I was just a spiritual concept. No wait, that's not it, I thought I was going to turn into a boy. Close though. Anyway, the point is when I try to bring attention to myself I fall on my face, which works really well for the attention-seeking aspect, but when I try to bring attention to God, I always succeed, even if it isn't always obvious to my short-sighted eyes (I'm not actually short-sighted, my vision is fine, it just happens to be stuck in a seriously limited human body). So here goes, I've noticed I've been careless with my words lately and hurting people's feelings that I had no intention of hurting. I felt like I was getting better at taming my tongue and it is always discouraging when I back track and need to apologize, which I always try to do.  It's usually in an attempt to be funny; words that seem harmless at the time but only end up tearing people down instead of building them up. I want to be a builder. God isn't calling Bob-the-Crushers, He's calling Bob-the-Builders (wait, what? He is? Bob-the-Builder is actually a missionary called to do relief work in underprivileged neighborhoods for God? Who knew). I just finally apologized to a coworker about something I said a long time ago that has been weighing on my conscience (something to do with sewing to which I said, "Where did you learn to do that, your mom?" which I don't even know how it was funny at the time, but it was, trust me.) You should have seen how happy he was when I apologized. Not only could he not believe I was still thinking about that but that I would bother to apologize for something so trivial. I went from making a bad impression, one of the only ones I've made with him, to making a very good impression and a new friend, not that you can really trust what I say about friends. Example: the ants.

The cruelty of the world is making me think it's time for another all-inclusive vacation, I mean, it's been 26 years since my last one (the womb). Also, FUN FACT ABOUT FAITH: I have never been outside of the country. The furthest point I have been from my birth place of Victoria is Fort St. John. Yeah. Real exciting. My family didn't have money to go on vacations growing up and I went right from high school to university, amassing a fortune in debt, and haven't had money to travel since. I still don't. The difference is I'm going anyway. Hurrah! Where am I going? Pssh, where does anyone go with no money who wants to mindlessly indulge themselves and/or escape government persecution? MEHICO! This is an exciting thing for me, this travelling thing. Now when I say "travel" I mean laying on the beach in the sun and eating lots of food. I don't actually mean furthering my education of a different culture and place. The good news is this Paleo diet has made me lose weight unintentionally, so I've got some real growing room. I plan on doing legitimate travelling some day too, don't worry, just not when I'm travelling with another inexperienced young, female traveller to a country known for it's successful drug cartels and kidnapping abilities. However, apparently Mexico has launched an anti-kidnapping agency! Unfortunately the next headline on Google says, "Mexico: War on Drug Cartels Leads to Rise in Kidnappings." You win some, you lose some. All I know is, I'm taking some time off to do nothing, and I promised myself that the next time I go to Mexico, it won't be for an all-inclusive vacation and it won't be to travel. It will be to help people who could never in their lifetime afford an all-inclusive vacation. Of course, I won't mention that technically I can't afford it right now either, the point is that I will be able to afford it, with just a little (or, you know, a lot) of saving up, and there's people who don't even have enough to feed their families (I instantly thought of the ants. I think I really am going insane). I think I might still have some money in my piggy-bank, unfortunately I might have to use the special limited-time Olympic quarters I collected back when I thought it would be cool to collect limited-time Olympic quarters.

Leg Tourrette's, or Why I'm So Freaking Tired

As you may or may not know about me, I have serious problems. I mean sleeping problems (I guess I shouldn't go around saying I have serious problems without saying what they are), but no amount of sleep advice or diet advice has helped me figure out what is wrong with me. At first I thought my depression and tiredness were related as they seemed to start at the same time, around the age of 13, but when the depression was treated, the tiredness stayed the same. Doctors called it "chronic fatigue," also known as "we have no idea," and gave me many blood tests which all come back normal. I've been tested for just about everything. Except Lupus. I once asked my doctor if I could get tested for Lupus and she laughed like I was one of those hypochondriacs and said no, don't be silly... Well, look who's got Lupus now, doc! (Not me. I don't have Lupus.) I've tried sleeping pills, melatonin, acupuncture, diet changes, sleep routines and different amounts of exercise. I've taken a summer off for the sole purpose of trying to figure out my sleep. For a very long time I thought that unlike normal people I just needed way more than eight hours of sleep a night and I was constantly getting mad at myself for not going to bed at four o'clock in the afternoon.

My chronic fatigue has put a serious damper on my life. My worst fears have been:

1. I wouldn't get married until I was eighty-two (how can you get married if you never go places to meet boys?)
2. I couldn't have kids (refer to number one, plus, kids = even less sleep)
3. I would never get anywhere with my writing (how can you write novels when you are too tired even to write short stories? That's when I realized maybe I should become a poet who only writes Haikus)
4. I would never have close friends (hermits don't have friends)

On my own I found out about the Nanaimo Sleep Clinic last year (there is a sleep clinic in Victoria but they only deal with sleep apnea) and asked my doctor to refer me to it. She knows that I've had sleeping problems for years and she never thought to mention the one place on the Island that was created specifically to figure out what might be causing it? WTFM? (What the Fudge-Muffin?) After waiting 6 months I got an appointment and they gave me a sleep routine to try. For almost two months I tried that sleep routine. I had to inform my boss what I was doing so he didn't fire me. In theory it made perfect sense: stay up late, get up early, no sleeping in on the weekends and no naps in an attempt to consolidate my sleep. It didn't work. Good news! I found new levels of tired in myself that I didn't even know were humanly possible while still being able to function! At the same time that I decided I couldn't take it anymore, my boss told me I needed to stop. I guess he didn't like that I was falling asleep at my desk every day. Just thinking about how exhausted I was during that time should make me never complain about being tired again. But we all know that's never going to happen.

You see, people who aren't tired all the time don't really understand what it's like. When I tell someone I'm tired, they say, "I know, I'm tired too." Oh, are you? Why? You stayed up late on purpose??? Now imagine that your being tired isn't the consequence of poor decision making. You know that feeling of getting a good night's sleep and waking up feeling good and rested? Isn't that such a relief? I DON'T KNOW, IS IT? Seriously. I'm just saying everyone knows what it feels like to be tired, whether it's their fault or not. It's just that I've known that kind of tired every single day since I was 13. There. That's my pity party. Be sure to drink a lot of the punch - it's spiked. Actually it's whisky... spiked with punch...

Sleeping Beauty: what I would
look like if I got some sleep (obviously).

See? I told you that was never going to happen. In the middle of trying that sleep routine I had my long anticipated pajama party at the sleep clinic. They hooked me up to a bunch of electrodes all over my body and a breathing tube in my nose and then told me to go to sleep while they watched me through a camera. Right. Lucky for me I was so freaking tired from my sleep routine I fell asleep right away. Unlucky for me, I also found out exactly why that sleep routine was not working - in another two months, when I had my next appointment. Apparently I've got Twitchy Leg Syndrome. (I made up that name, the sleep specialist just called it leg twitches). And no it's not the same as Restless Leg Syndrome AKA "Jimmy legs," or as I called it as a kid, "leg sickness," which I also have. This is some wonderful other phenomenon that wakes me up 19 times per hour, or over 150 times per night. I got to watch a two minute clip of me sleeping (not even a little bit creepy, so that's good) and in two minutes I twitched three times, twice making me turn onto my other side. No wonder my dad is always telling me I kick the wall in my sleep. It's like I have leg Tourette's. What was even more unusual about the leg twitches (like that's not unusual enough) was that they were happening even during the deepest part of my sleep cycle when my body is supposed to be paralyzed. Apparently not when you have leg Tourrette's.

Do you know how amazing it feels to find out that there is a real, live, solid reason why you have been chronically tired for over ten years? Do you know how depressing it is to find out that the whole time it was just some weird leg twitches that I would never have known about unless I asked to go to this sleep clinic? The sleep guy said it could be related to back pain or iron store levels (apparently they only check those if they think you are anaemic). If he said anything about needing to eat more meat I was going to punch him. Lucky for him he was a vegetarian too and said he preferred getting his iron first-hand rather than through a cow. He gave me a prescription for a small dose of Parkinson's medication to take before bed and then assured me I was not in fact developing Parkinson's at the age of 24. When I asked about the side-effects he said, "Do you ever have schizophrenic episodes?" "No." "Do you have a gambling addiction?" "No." "Then you're good to go." So hopefully my Parkinson's medication cures my TLS/leg Tourette's, without giving me hallucinations or a sudden desire to go to the Casino, thereby changing my life forever. Seriously? Couldn't it have just been something normal that was disturbing my sleep? No. Because that would make for a boring blog post.