Trying New Things

Seclusion: My uncomfortable comfort zone

by 4 Comments

Social anxiety is insatiable. It not only screams at me for attention when I’m around people or thinking about a future social event. It also loves to play back its video library of the many awkward experiences we’ve shared in the past.

There’s one story in particular that social anxiety has decided to tell me over and over again. It took place at least fifteen years ago, yet I can still remember much of it in vivid detail.

It started out with me meeting with several friends I had known since my early teens. With them was an attractive woman I’d gone to high school with but never gotten to know.

We all started the night by heading to what continues to be one of the most terrifying settings for me: a dance club. Most of the time when dancing is involved, I like to hide in a corner and nurse my drink. When I do dance, I typically keep to myself, sway to the music, and try not to make eye contact with anyone. I have very little experience dancing with other people, and I try to keep it that way.

Enter the attractive woman from high school. She asked me to dance. I resisted, but after some encouragement, I followed her onto the dance floor. My heart was racing from self-consciousness. I started to sway, keeping a safe distance. She did her best to mirror my movements and smile. By the end of the song, I’m sure she could tell I was uncomfortable. She led me back to our friends.

Later that night, we arrived at my friend’s house. He had a pool in back and several people decided to jump in. They began joking and splashing each other and otherwise having fun. There’s not enough room for me, I thought, standing at the edge of the pool and watching in silence. My former dance partner decided that was unacceptable. She swam up to me, tugged at my shorts, and pulled them down. Shocked, I jumped into the pool to hide myself as I pulled my shorts back up. I swam closer to the group and feigned enjoyment. Underneath, I still felt like I didn’t belong.

Eventually, we got out, dried off, and headed to the living room. I sat in a chair and the shorts thief sat across from me.

“Tell me a story,” she prodded, smiling.

I fumbled through my mental file but couldn’t think of anything worthy of sharing. Instead, I sighed and said, “You wouldn’t understand my stories.”

I thought I was being mysterious. She thought I had insulted her. “Thanks a lot!” she shouted as she stormed out of the room. Her friends followed to console her. I sat there, dumbfounded and frozen by indecision.

I only saw her once more, over a year later at a holiday party. At that point, she had a boyfriend and had become, at best, begrudgingly polite to me.

That day is a constant reminder of how much fear and anxiety can sabotage my opportunities. My fear of looking like a fool held me back from dancing. My fear of large groups left me standing outside the pool. The pressure to tell a good story led me to say something offensive out of self-preservation and alienate someone who was trying desperately to connect with me.

In Ellen Hendriksen’s book, How to Be Yourself, she explains that for those who struggle with social anxiety, one of their main defense mechanisms is avoidance. As people identify the situations that trigger their fight-or-flight response, it’s easy to decide to just avoid those situations. Since that day, I’ve more or less avoided dance clubs unless I have about 10 or 12 drinks in me to cushion the blow.

That same tendency toward avoidance has been a driving force in my recent decisions on where to live. Four years ago, I lived in a large complex where I only met my neighbors because the person I was seeing coaxed me into attending the onsite cooking classes. After we split up, I moved to another large complex where in the span of two years, I spent a total of maybe five minutes talking to my neighbors and the rest of the time behaving like a bitter old man, hiding inside and cursing at people for slamming their doors. About one year ago, to minimize my exposure to noisy neighbors, I moved into a duplex. There I communicated with my one, upstairs neighbor through text messages when it was time to split the utility bill or I got up the nerve to ask him to turn his music down.

This year, I started apartment hunting again. My dream was to rent a backhouse–a peaceful sanctuary with no shared walls. When that option didn’t pan out, I expanded my search but ruled out most of the large complexes and any unit where I’d have someone above me.

Eventually, I decided to stop relying on the Internet and check out some apartments in person.

The first building had a vacancy in both an upstairs unit and the one below it. The one upstairs felt too hot. The one downstairs was cooler, but I asked the landlord to walk upstairs and, when I heard his footsteps above me, I vetoed that option.

The second place felt like a run-down nursing home–the interior of the unit was all white with a cold, white tile floor and an ugly patch of astroturf in the common area outside.

The third place ended up being a much bigger complex than it appeared to be in the pictures–27 units in all. However, the unit itself was upstairs and the bedroom didn’t share a wall with a neighbor. It was clean, modern, and overall pleasing to the eye. After touring the apartment, I went outside into the common area. A woman sitting outside offered to share her thoughts on the complex. I accepted, somewhat reluctantly. As I looked around at the shared seating area, barbecues, and kiddie pool, she talked about the vegetables she grew and shared from the communal garden; the nearby farmer’s market, and the outdoor yoga gatherings, occasionally stopping to say hello to a neighbor by name as they walked by.

I realized she was showcasing something I hadn’t really experienced since college–a community.

Suddenly, my dreams of isolation didn’t seem so enticing. I imagined what it would be like to step outside my apartment and have someone to talk to. I reflected fondly on the days when I lived in a dorm and neighbors would knock on my door and invite me over. I wondered if I might enjoy joining a group of locals for outdoor yoga.

I applied to that apartment the same day. Two days later, I received the news that my application was accepted. Tonight, I picked up the keys. Tomorrow, I move in.

I might even leave my door open.

Waking up is hard to do

by 3 Comments

I can’t remember the last time I had a good night’s sleep. It doesn’t seem to matter when I go to bed, when I wake up, and whether or not I use an alarm; I always awaken feeling groggy and struggle to start my day. I limit myself to one cup of coffee in the morning, my diet is fairly healthy, and I get a decent amount of exercise, but to no avail. I even tried participating in a sleep study once, but I was so uncomfortable from having electrodes stuck all over my body that I maybe slept for 30 minutes the entire night.

At this point in my life, I’d be more surprised if I woke up feeling refreshed than if Bigfoot came crashing through my front door riding on the back of a unicorn.

Despite this, about a year ago, I thought I could train myself to become a morning person. My motivation: I got a job in which my typical workday began between 5 and 5:30 a.m.

I’m still not used to it. I struggled for months to get to bed early enough to even have a shot at around 7-8 hours of sleep. At one point, I found the discipline to go to bed by 8 p.m., fall asleep within about 30 minutes, and wake up at 4:30 a.m. It never got easier, and after about two weeks, I got sick and needed extra rest to recover. I never managed to get back on track.

This month, I decided to try and get to the bottom of the issue. I did some research on sleep monitoring apps and downloaded one called Sleep Cycle.

The basic premise of the app is that we sleep in cycles, sinking into deep sleep and returning to light sleep approximately every 90 minutes. If we are awakened during deep sleep, we will feel less rested than if we’re awakened during light sleep. This means it’s best to wake up at the end of one of the 90-minute cycles. For example, in theory, 7 1/2 hours of sleep is better than 8 hours of sleep because 7 1/2 hours is five 90-minute cycles while 8 hours means you’re interrupting your return to deep sleep. Unfortunately, the duration of sleep cycles varies from person to person, and it’s hard to control exactly when you fall asleep, so it’s very difficult to know the optimal time to set your alarm to.

The Sleep Cycle app tries to eliminate the guesswork. It includes an alarm function, but after you set your wake-up time, the app will try to wake you as close to that time as it can (without going beyond) when you’re in light sleep. If you want to get up by 5 a.m. and the app thinks you’ve ended a sleep cycle at 4:40 a.m., it will wake you at 4:40.

This next part may seem like another sign that robots are taking over the world, but I was desperate. The way the app monitors your sleep cycle is through your phone’s microphone. You leave the phone charging near your head with the microphone pointing towards you. It listens for sound patterns to indicate when you’re asleep, and then it begins taking measurements. When you wake up the next morning, you’ll see a graph of how you slept as well as various other data. It also records audio if you snore or talk in your sleep. I actually paid for the premium version of the app so it could use these invasive spy tactics.

Here’s what an (almost) ideal night looked like:

According to the graph, I started falling asleep right around 9 p.m. and woke up just before 5 a.m. In between, I had five cycles where I achieved deep sleep. Granted, it looks like I may have woken up briefly around 1 a.m., but if that’s true, it didn’t last long.

What really surprised me was that the app caught me snoring that night, not once, but 18 times! I had been convinced that I only snore on rare occasions, but apparently, it happens almost every night. It’s not an aggressive snore, but it’s still troubling.

Nonetheless, it felt like an achievement to sleep for almost 8 solid hours. The best part was that I actually felt a little more rested than usual when I woke up.

Too bad that was the best night’s sleep I had all month. A more typical night looked something like this:

Here you can see I didn’t get into bed until after midnight and still had to get up around 5 a.m. Also, where the app claims I was talking, I was actually watching a video on my phone because I had woken up and couldn’t get back to sleep. 4 1/2 hours of interrupted sleep can’t be good.

Sadly, this was closer to the norm–most nights I went to sleep after 11 p.m. and woke up by 5 a.m. I did, however, find that waking up during the light end of the cycle seemed to help. Even on 5 hours of sleep, I usually felt lucid enough to run an early meeting or two. But most days, I couldn’t make it to lunchtime before the fog rolled back into my brain and I had to take a walk or a nap.

I’d love to say I had a breakthrough this past month and solved my sleep problem, but I haven’t. Lack of quality sleep continues to impede my quality of life.

But thanks to this app, I now have new insights and new hope. I think I’m on board with the idea of an adaptive alarm clock. I seem to feel better, at least temporarily, if I wake up while in light sleep. I also have proof that I snore, which also affects sleep quality and is worth investigating. I’m starting to believe that with the right habits and treatment, I might one day achieve the mythical “good night’s sleep.”

Of course, it would help if I didn’t stay up late trying to wrap up this post the night of my publication deadline.

There’s always tomorrow . . .

Why my 17th “moving day” will be my best

by 2 Comments

If my memory is accurate, I’ve changed residences sixteen times. I should be an expert at it by now. Instead, of all the recurring events in my life, moving day is probably the one I dread the most.

I’ve had loved ones wait for hours while I scrambled to finish cleaning up on the last day or get into brutal arguments with me after they made the mistake of volunteering to help. I’ve paid companies hundreds of dollars to take stuff I couldn’t get rid of in time. And yet every time I move, I seem to leave with more than I started with, half of which never left the boxes it arrived in.

I’m about to move again. Only this time, I actually feel optimistic. One by one, I’ve looked at each of the mistakes I’ve made in the past and come up with a better alternative.

Test drive before you buy

As if moving out of my current place wasn’t hard enough, I have the added challenge of not yet having a place to move to. But this time, I’ve removed a lot of the guess work.

A couple of months ago, I wrote about the experiment in which I stayed at a couple of Airbnb’s to give me a feel for what it would be like to live in different neighborhoods. That experiment was a success: the first neighborhood was so-so, but I loved the second one. This eliminates one big decision: now I just need to find a place I like in that part of town.

Plan around stress

Whenever I decide to move, I begin to worry about all of the things that could go wrong. What if I’m not ready in time for the movers? What if I don’t find my new home in time? What if I find a place too soon and have to pay for two residences at once? What if I don’t find a way to sell, donate, or safely dispose of the things I no longer want?

My solution: plan for multiple outcomes. I gave myself two moving deadlines: an ambitious one and a “drop-dead” one. I have plans for when and how I’m going to look for a new place, as well as places to stay temporarily if I don’t find a home by moving day. And I’ve found a packing strategy that gives me a good chance of leaving with less stuff without having to sweat it so much if I have to keep more than I’d hoped.

Follow the 80-20 rule

It may be one of the most overused concepts in personal productivity advice, but the “80-20 rule” still holds up. It has different versions, but the one I subscribe to is that for a given task, 80% of the total results will come from 20% of the total effort (and, conversely, it will take 80% of the effort to accomplish the remaining 20%).

In the physical sense, about 80% of my space is taken up by about 20% my possessions. I’m much better off dealing with the big stuff first, like furniture and appliances; and saving the tiny stuff like papers and photographs for later. In the emotional sense, I know I’ll spend 80% of my time struggling to part with mementos and other objects that hold personal meaning, so I set those aside while I tackled the rest.

By following this approach, I’ve managed to go through almost everything I don’t need on a day-to-day basis, and I’ve already cut my memento boxes in half. I’ve also disposed of loads of trash and recyclables.

Then there’s the matter of where I put everything so I’m not climbing over boxes until moving day.

Designate a place for everything

In my garage, I have three large, wooden pallets. I’m using each one for a different purpose. The one in the back is for things that are ready to move. The one in the middle is for things I want to process. The one in front is for things I’m ready to get rid of either through sale, donation, or specialty disposal services like e-waste and paper shredding.

Every time I add something to the “ready to go” pallet, I feel a small rush, knowing I don’t have to think about it again until I unload it from the moving truck. Every time I add something to the “get rid of” pallet, I feel even better because I know it’s going to find a new home that isn’t mine! Meanwhile, the to-be-processed pallet keeps getting emptier.

I still have a lot left to go through, but at this point, even if I run out of time and have to keep the rest, I feel like I’ve already won.

My "get rid of" pallet is running out of space!
My “get rid of” pallet is running out of space!

I’m almost ready

I now know when I’m going to move: about halfway between my “ambitious” moving day and the “drop-dead” date, give or take a week. I could probably finish in time for the earlier date, but I decided to give myself a little more breathing room so I can split my time between preparing to move and enjoying my final days in this city. I’m proud of the progress I’ve made and I know that even if things don’t go as well as I hope they will between now and my move, I have other options to fall back on.

Now, as I begin to count the days until moving day, instead of being filled with dread, I’m actually starting to get excited!

I finally convinced myself to write a novel

by 2 Comments

I’ve been writing for almost my entire life.

I wrote essays, short stories, and poems in school. I’ve written tons of emails and documentation for work. I wrote marketing copy when I had my own business. I’ve contributed to my writing group’s annual anthology three of the past four years. I’ve been writing monthly blog posts for the past 16 months.

Yet one thing I’ve never done–something I’ve long envisioned as my pinnacle achievement–is write a novel.

I’ve probably written tens of millions of words over my lifetime. Many novels are between 50,000 and 100,000 words.

So what’s my excuse?

The problem, I’ve come to realize, has been motivation. Up to this point, almost all of the writing I’ve done has been, at least in part, to meet someone else’s expectations. I wrote in school with the hope that my teachers would give me good grades–and occasionally display my work as a model for other students. I write for work because it’s part of my job. I write for my group’s anthology so I can feel like I’m pulling my weight. I stick with this blog because I told my readers I would publish on the 1st of every month.

Sure, I get some gratification out of it as well. But it was mainly external motivation–the desire to please others combined with the fear of disappointing them–that drove me.

This time, it’s different. No one is counting on me to write a novel. I’m not being paid or graded to do it. I don’t have a deadline.

I could ask someone to hold me accountable. But I’ve decided I want to try something new.

I don’t want to write a novel for a grade or money or praise or out of feelings of obligation and guilt. I don’t want this to be another vehicle for people-pleasing.

I want to experience what it’s like to create a story that unfolds over 200 or 300 pages or more. I want to get to know my characters as well as I know some of my friends. I want to build a rich world based on deep contemplation and research instead of just making something up off the top of my head. I want to know what it feels like to see the finished work and be able to say, “I did that.”

Maybe I’ll want to share it when I’m done. Maybe I’ll even try to get it published.

But for now, I just want to treat myself. So I’m going to write a novel.

How small efforts have helped me make big decisions

by 3 Comments

Many months ago, I found a career I thought I wanted to pursue.

I could have applied to jobs, fought for interviews, eventually received and accepted an offer, quit my old job, tried to learn a new set of skills, hated the work, and ended up staying much longer than I should have because I don’t like to quit without giving jobs a chance.

Instead, I interviewed three people who did the work I was interested in and decided it wasn’t a good fit.

I made a big decision with a few hours of effort instead of what could have dragged on for a year or more.

Now I have another important choice to make: do I stay in the city I live in, or do I move?

If I were to go by features alone, the city I live in has just about everything I’m looking for. It’s also the place where I began practicing aikido, which has become one of the most meaningful ways I spend my time.

Despite these benefits, I’ve been unhappy in this city for quite a while.

However, if I move to the place I’m considering, many of the benefits I’ve enjoyed will be diminished. I may even have to give up aikido, at least for a while. And although I’ve moved many times, I always find it stressful.

But I’ll also be much closer to many of the people I care about.

I’ve struggled with this decision for a long time. A year ago, I seriously considered the same move, but I wound up just switching to a different neighborhood. It didn’t help.

The more I weigh my options, the heavier the burden of choice seems to become.

But thanks to a recent idea I had, that load has begun to feel lighter. I was able to make a decision about a career change without ever changing careers. What if I could find out what it would be like to relocate without actually relocating?

I decided that rather than facing the giant task of planning a move, I would start with the much easier (and more fun) task of planning a trip.

The following strategy has worked well for me when I’m about to travel to another city:

Step 1: Make a list of places I want to see in that city.

Using word of mouth, web searches, travel guides, Yelp, Tripadvisor, and other resources, I list the places that interest me: restaurants, bars, museums, bookstores, coffee shops, stores, parks, movie theaters, concert venues, historical buildings, and so on.

Step 2: Find those places on a map.

One of my favorite websites is a seemingly little known feature of Google Maps called “My Maps.” I connect to mymaps.google.com. I create a new map and name it with the city I’m visiting. Then, one by one, I search for the places on my list. As each location pops up, I save it and it creates a pin on my map. I can even color code the pins by category (e.g., all restaurants are yellow, all shops are green, etc.). The color coding part can be a bit clunky, but I find it helpful.

Step 3: Pick the neighborhood(s) where I want to stay.

By the time I’m done populating my map, I usually have 20, 30, or more location pins. Many of those pins tend to be clustered together. I use those clusters to decide where I want to stay–either inside one cluster or between a couple of them.

Step 4: Reserve an Airbnb. (No, this isn’t an ad.)

When I travel, I often like to book my lodging through Airbnb rather than hotels. This allows me to be surrounded by other residents, cook meals, walk to the local establishments and attractions, and feel what it would be like to live in that neighborhood.

I used these same steps to pick two neighborhoods in my potential, future home city. I booked each place for a week. As I wrap up this post, I just checked out of the first place a couple of days ago and am at the second location, lying on a comfortable couch and listening to relaxing music. I don’t think I would want to live in the previous neighborhood, but so far, the current one looks promising.

Two weeks of lodging isn’t cheap, but it’s a small price to pay to help me feel confident that whatever choice I end up making, it’s the right move for me.

It’s time to wake up

by 2 Comments

Saturday, October 16, 2021:

I just got back from a two-week trip. The first week was my vacation: I explored Grand Teton and Yellowstone National Park with my family. The second week, I worked remotely from an Airbnb surrounded by fall colors, snow, and spectacular mountains.

During my time off, I felt more energized than I have in probably two years. Within half a day of being back on the job, I was ready to go back to bed. My plan had been to go out and explore every day after work. After all, I was paying for the experience of being in a different atmosphere, closer to nature. Instead, I didn’t set foot outside once during my work week until the final night before my flight home, when I went to a bar to watch a baseball game. The rest of the time, I was either working or lying down.

I have explored almost every facet of my life for ways to improve my quality of life. But throughout that time, I have neglected to resolve the one area that has been a consistent problem: sleep.

I’m usually tired. Lately, I’ve blamed it on the fact that I typically start work between 5 a.m. and 5:30 a.m. But I was tired even when I worked “normal” hours.

I’ve also attributed my fatigue to depression. I still haven’t ruled that out, but until I develop healthier sleep patterns, I’ll never know.

It’s hard to gauge, but I think I need about eight hours of sleep per night. I also know that in order to train my body, it’s best to go to bed at the same time and get up at the same time every day. I’ve chosen to wake up at 4:30 a.m. so I have time to get ready for work, and go to bed by 8:00 p.m. so I have time to fall asleep.

As I write this, doubts immediately spring forth in my mind:

But what if I can’t fall asleep by 8:30? Get up at 4:30 anyway, and force yourself to stay awake until bedtime. You should have an easier time falling asleep the next night.

But what if I have a meeting before 5 a.m.? Don’t. Your colleagues are aware that you’ve had to change your entire schedule to accommodate them. Set some boundaries.

But I have commitments that go past 8 p.m. Where possible, see if you can negotiate an earlier start time. Otherwise, tell them you have to leave early.

But the playoffs are on. Find a way to record them, or accept the fact that you’ll learn the outcome in the morning.

If I want to fix my sleep problem, I’ll have to make sacrifices and compromises. But if giving some things up for better sleep will help me feel better when I’m awake, it’s worth it.

What follows is my daily sleep log.

Sunday, October 17: I filled my water bottle, set it on my nightstand, and went to bed a few minutes before 8. I listened to the baseball game on the radio for a few minutes, discovered it was tied in the 9th inning, tried to convince myself I didn’t care, and shut it off. It took me a bit to get comfortable but I think I fell asleep by 8:30. When my alarm went off at 4:30, my first instinct was to grab my phone and check my work calendar to see how much time I had before my first meeting. Then I realized, it’s Sunday; I have no meetings. This would normally be followed by hitting the “snooze” button and going back to sleep, but I resisted. I took a few gulps of water and pushed myself out of bed. A few minutes later, I wrote this entry. As I’m wrapping up, most of the initial grogginess is gone and I’m just trying to figure out what to do with all this extra morning.

Monday, October 18: I went to bed on time, was awakened in the middle of the night as my room got very cold, struggled to get back to sleep, but still pushed myself out of bed on time. I felt lousy throughout my workday but forged ahead to the end of my last meeting. Then I took about a 45-minute nap, which helped. I had my Aikido class in the evening and my sensei helped ensure I left early as we had arranged. I enjoyed being able to come home and unwind for half an hour before going to bed.

Tuesday, October 19: I woke up at 4:30 with foot pain that nagged me all day. I took a flight to visit my family and hobbled through the airport using my suitcase as a crutch. I figured I must have injured myself between the Aikido and the subsequent bike ride. I still went to bed on time, but I found it hard to sleep because of foot pain and allergies.

Wednesday, October 20: I woke up on time, made a doctor’s appointment, and found out I had gout. I received a soft cast and medication, which helped me sleep better, although my allergies were still bugging me.

Thursday, October 21: I still haven’t missed a day of keeping my schedule despite the pain and allergy disruptions. I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to waking up while it’s still pitch black outside, but it is nice to ease into my morning instead of rolling out of bed and immediately into my office chair. I’ve been fairly low on energy but still lucid and haven’t felt compelled to take a nap like I used to.

Friday, October 22: I’m still sticking to my sleep schedule. I felt pretty focused throughout my workday and finished promptly at 2:30 p.m. Normally I feel like I need to work more because I wasn’t productive enough due to being sleepy, but this time I was able to step away from the computer guilt-free. I flew home and got back to my place just in time for bedtime.

Saturday, October 23: I don’t think it’s allergies anymore. I went to sleep on time but woke up at about 1 a.m. feeling like I had cement in my lungs. I had taken a COVID test about a week prior, so I don’t think it’s that, but these aren’t my usual allergy symptoms.

Sunday, October 24: I went to bed at 8 and again woke up coughing at about 1 a.m. I was up for an hour, then went back to sleep until 7:15.

Monday, October 25: I went to bed at 8, woke up at 4:30, attended a couple of meetings while communicating via chat, and took some naps between meetings. I can barely talk. I emailed my doctor and explained my symptoms. He said it was likely viral laryngitis, that antibiotics wouldn’t help at this point, and that I should just ride it out.

Tuesday: October 26: I had gone to bed at 8 but couldn’t fall asleep until almost 10, probably because of the naps. I woke up at some point in the middle of the night, still set alarm for 4:30 and then napped until my 6:00 meeting. I couldn’t talk at all so I used the chat function when I had something to say.

Wednesday, October 27: I again went to bed on time, woke up in the middle of the night, and extended my alarm to 5:30 a.m. I went out for coffee at 6:30 am and found it disorienting that it was still dark out. I worked a 14-hour day due to meetings with a brief nap in the middle.

Thursday: October 28: I woke up coughing during the night, but I still woke up again at 4:30. I stared into the blackness outside my window, and felt very alone. I worked much of the day, realized I had more meetings starting at 5 p.m., and dozed on the couch until it was time to get back on my computer.

Friday, October 29: This was the first time I didn’t wake up coughing since last Friday, but I was still exhausted. I didn’t have many meetings and since I had worked more than 12 hours each of the past two days, I treated myself to an easy day. I left early to write at a bar patio, came home, had a virtual hangout with my friend, still went to bed at 8, and then couldn’t fall asleep for a couple of hours because my congestion was driving me nuts. I decided not to set my alarm.

Saturday, October 30 / Sunday, October 31: I stopped worrying about the time and just decided I was going to sleep as much as I needed to until I recovered.

My experiment didn’t work out as well as I had hoped. I only lasted six days before my sleep schedule started to slip. But considering I had gout, viral laryngitis, and spent several days sleeping in a different bed, I’m still impressed with what I was able to accomplish.

Once I feel better, I plan to pick up where I left off. I also ordered a lamp that’s supposed to simulate sunlight. I’m hoping this will help 4:30 a.m. feel a little less post-apocalyptic. If I can wake up on 8 hours of sleep every day and feel like it’s morning, I’m hoping that will translate to a more focused and productive workday and more energy to enjoy my time outside of work. Time will tell.