Insomnia Can Be a Superweapon

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I adore my creature comforts. Take away my food, comfy clothes, or my sleep, and I unfortunately get cranky fast. I may not be high maintenance; however, if I don’t get the basics, especially at least 5 hours of sleep at night, I struggle to not devolve into a whiny, teary-eyed blob, sprawled on the floor, having a pity party of one. Keep me adequately fed, watered, and comfy, though, and it’s mostly smooth sailing, even when life gets hectic.

I love sleep. Sleep loves me. Sleep and I are best buds. Don’t ever keep us apart for too long. Or else my world starts caving in. Give me sleep or give me death, people! (Yeah, I can get a bit on the melodramatic side when I’m sleep deprived.) That’s probably why I hate insomnia so much. It’s an evil thing that gets in the way of my dreamland bliss.

And tonight, the insomnia monster is at full force. It’s after 4:00 AM, and here I am writing a blog post about sleeping instead of–you guessed it–sleeping! As a writer, though, I’ve come to realize that even insomnia can be a mighty secret weapon, if wielded properly. There’s something about sitting alone at night, the house (and world) silent around you. Alone with your thoughts, musings, and crazy imagination. Just the clicky-clack of your fingers flying across the keyboard. It never fails to get the ol’ creative juices flowing. And sometimes inspiration hits like a giant dam suddenly burst upstream.

Tonight is one of those dam moments. Although I would much rather be sleeping right now, (dawn comes quickly these days), I must admit that I’m having the time of my life tonight. Well, perhaps, not my life, but certainly in recent days, weeks, and possibly even months. I feel like a new person. I’m on fire. I’m overflowing with ideas, and I can’t get enough! I’m almost tempted to never sleep again–well, at least until I get all of these concepts written down.

After I couldn’t fall asleep, I started writing a new story based off of a crazy dream I woke up to yesterday. The dream was so vivid that I actually remember a huge chunk of it. It makes a pretty good story, too. It has plenty of plot twists and the climax is so unexpected that I doubt many people will see it coming.

I’ve had an extremely productive night. I picked a title. I started character dossiers. I even wrote a story synopsis that is almost 4,000 words long. It’s coming along beautifully! I’ve never had a novel idea flow this freely and easily. I have all the main plot points laid out. I merely need to flesh out the storyline more and add depth to my characters. Then, I can dig into writing this book from cover to cover. It feels like this thing is almost writing itself!

I know I should be heading off to bed soon to try–yet again–to drift off to sleep. Nonetheless, part of me is energized and rejuvenated by this flood of inspiration. If writer’s block is a drought, I’m experiencing the monsoon of the century, folks! I honestly don’t want to stop! It’s as though I’ve inadvertently hit pay dirt. I accidentally found an oil well, and it’s madly gushing all over the place. How can I not be excited or eager to enjoy the moment while it lasts? Who knows when this inspiration will dry up?

WIsh me luck. I’m going to need it! I must find a happy balance between sleep and writing when my brain is still exploding like a monstrous volcano. You know, I should treat this surge of creativity more like a fire, rather than a force of nature. Under the right conditions, a fire can be harnessed and contained. With both the appropriate amount of air and fuel, flames can burn for a long time without causing harm. A writer requires a healthy balance of writing time and rest. If I tread carefully, I won’t burn out and neither will my inspiration.

© 2020 Amanda R. Dollak

Life is a Journey, Not a Destination

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I’ve noticed that I easily become so frustrated and discouraged with my life these days. And today I’ve finally realized why. I’m not patient enough with myself. I fail to see how far I’ve come and what all I’ve overcome. I especially fail to see that life–and any goal I set–is a journey. Therefore, I can’t expect to reach the destination immediately. It’s downright ridiculous!

The reality is we wouldn’t expect to go on vacation by stepping out our front door and immediately finding ourselves relaxing on some faraway tropical beach. So, why should we expect our hopes, dreams, and hard work to reach the end immediately? We shouldn’t.

A journey is challenging. It takes thoughtful planning. It takes appropriate preparation. It also takes plenty of patience and perseverance. Anyone who has attempted a long road trip or a vacation thousands of miles from home knows that if you are ill prepared or impatient, a million things can and will go wrong.

Can you imagine if we set out on a road trip in the way we approach our goals and life expectations? It wouldn’t be pretty. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised to find many of us out of gas, traveling in the wrong direction, or giving up and turning back long before the trip even had a chance to get started.

I know I’m guilty of all three of these fatal errors…and more. However, I’m done. I’m finished having unrealistic expectations about myself, my life, and my goals. I’m ready to embrace the journey along with the destination. I still want to change a lot in my life, but I’m going to try to enjoy myself as I work towards those changes.

If I hit a roadblock or a detour along the way? It’s fine with me! I’ve always enjoyed little surprises anyway. One little obstacle doesn’t make or break a journey. Besides, some of the greatest things in life can be unexpected.

If I get a little lost along the way? No problem! I’ll be enjoying the new scenery as I get myself back on track.

Oh, and if I don’t reach the journey’s end when or even where I expected? It really isn’t that horrible. The trip can be just as fulfilling and enjoyable as the destination.

Life is all about the living part. Life is actively seeking to learn, to grow, and to become more. All that busy, noisy, chaotic, and messy stuff that falls between beginning and end–between birth and death–is what life on this earth is all about. We should be enjoying it and relishing it as it happens, not ignoring it as we yearn for the future. We’ll miss out on so much if we don’t enjoy the ride each and every step of the way.

© 2020 Amanda R. Dollak

I No Longer Watch Horror Films

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Some people think I’m strange or maybe even crazy because I no longer watch horror films. “Normal” human beings LOVE to be scared senseless, right? Or so society says. So, why can’t I savor a night of horror like everyone else?

Contrary to popular assumptions, I am NOT a scaredy-cat or a baby. I have in fact watched plenty of scary movies over the years from The Night of the Living Dead to A Nightmare on Elm Street to The Exorcist. I’ve never been a horror film fan, but I grew up in a household where scary movies were as commonplace as cartoons. The truth is, though, I simply reached my limit well over a decade ago. I feel like if I watch one more horror flick, my overactive imagination is going to burst at the seams!

Imagine visiting a place where every horror villain, ghost, zombie, vampire, and any other creature of the night roamed constantly. Picture the nastiest, goriest, most grotesque massacre. That, my friend, is my subconscious mind. Every second of every horror film I’ve ever watched is stored carefully and methodically in my brain. And each time my subconscious mind decides my life is getting a little too boring, it surprises me with nightmares that would even make Stephen King shiver and shake.

Yes, inside my head are the most horrendous atrocities–both real and fictitious–and my mind twists them, molds them, and multiplies the scare factor many times over. My nightmares are so vivid and lifelike that when I’m finally startled awake, it takes at least a half of an hour to calm the heart trying to beat out of my chest.

Sometimes, I get stuck in my nightmares and can’t escape, no matter how much I scream for myself to wake up. I’m left vulnerable and at the mercy of this dark world that can only be described as a haunted house on steroids. I have also died a million deaths in my dreams, only to live each new day with every frightening detail and raw emotion seared permanently into my conscious mind.

Who needs a cheap, cheesy scary movie when I live through intense horror night after haunted night? Not me! The thrill of being scared senseless has long worn off. I’d much rather watch something comical or uplifting. I could go the rest of my life never watching another scary movie again, and I’d still have much more than my fill of horror. Leave it to my crazy imagination to put even Hollywood to shame. Most of the time, I count myself blessed for having such an imaginative and creative mind. However, this is certainly a serious downside to being a writer and having countless realistic worlds inside my head.

© 2020 Amanda R. Dollak

With Writing, I Can’t Compromise

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Eventually, we must all decide what we want out of this life and what we are willing to sacrifice to make our dreams come true. Years ago, I realized that I wanted to be a writer most of all. The lure of creating stories and new worlds to share with countless others was intoxicating. Also, I I felt this stirring deep within me that told me that I’d never be myself if I ignored this dream. But most of all, I wanted to write because I longed to reach people, to touch their hearts and minds, and to uplift them during their darkest and loneliest of hours.

As a child, I was sick more times than I could count. I also had a difficult childhood. I came from a troubled home, dealt with some abuse, and ended up a foster child. Books were my refuge. They spoke to me. They took me away from the chaos and uncertainty. They gave me hope. And they taught me that there is so much more to life than my bleak little corner of the world.

Because of this, I decided early on that I wanted to write to give back. I yearned to pass on the hope, encouragement, and imagination that had been bestowed upon me through the countless books I read as a child. Oh, if I made a nice paycheck along the way, I knew I wouldn’t ever complain. But my main purpose of becoming a writer was to do my part in making this world a little brighter and bearable for my readers.

I still write for that reason. With society’s obsession with drama, gossip, and dirt, though, it sometimes feels like I’m doing a lot of work for little to no pay. Now don’t get me wrong; I love being a writer. I get such satisfaction doing what I love and occasionally hearing feedback from people saying how much my writing has touched them. Still, since I have chronic illnesses (in particular, severe fibromyalgia), I can’t be as prolific of a writer right now, and thus, my paycheck is pretty much nonexistent. I am starting over and relearning the ropes simply because I was too unhealthy in the past to keep up with my freelance writing career.

Every now and then, I am offered a new project or gig. Usually I’m extremely thrilled. Lately, though, these new opportunities aren’t meeting my overall goals and standards as a writer. The lure of a nice paycheck initially tempts me to compromise on my dream and write fluff and junk. Nonetheless, I’ve always reminded myself that my writing is a reflection of who I am as a person. So, despite the temptation, I can’t do it. I can’t compromise who I am simply because society eats this garbage up and it might help to pay the bills for a little while.

I have to stay true to myself. I have to abide by my convictions and my standards. If I start compromising my dream, I start compromising myself and my life’s work. I’m a person of integrity and honor. I’m nowhere near perfect, but I always have to do what I feel is right. It is the only way for me to like what I see every morning in the mirror. And it is the only way for me to write at my best. I simply can’t compromise. If God wants me to move back into freelance writing, He will open the door for me. I won’t have to take iffy shortcuts or compromise on my ideals. If I am meant to work on more than my own personal projects right now, quality and worthwhile projects will find me. It’s as simple as that.

 

© 2020 Amanda R. Dollak

I Have a Where’s Waldo? Brain

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My brain is a crazy place. It is jammed full of memories, TV, movies, music, books, knowledge, and oodles of trivia. Consequently, my imagination has an endless well of ideas to haunt me both day and night. My dreams have been especially crazy lately. They have been stuffed full of so many details — many which have no logical connection — that I’m left in total bewilderment when I finally wake up. There’s nothing like waking up with that ‘huh-what-just-happened?’ feeling day after day.

My husband, who wonders if he even dreams sometimes, has a hard time comprehending my intense and cluttered dreams. And for the longest time, I’ve struggled to put the nature of these dreams into terms that he can understand. When I try to explain my dreams to him, he grows increasingly confused. Eventually, his eyes glaze over and his mouth just kind of hangs open in sheer astonishment. I don’t think anyone remotely normal can handle the circus that is my brain.

Yesterday morning, I awoke having one of these crazy dreams again. There was a visit to Grandma’s house, barbecuing, a classic car show, children’s games, frogs, turtles, foxes, elves, armor, huge bonfires, ballad writing, a gigantic army, and an epic battle. After waking up from such a busy dream, I couldn’t help but feel exhausted!

This time around, I tried to explain to my children what it is like in one of my cluttered dreams. And once again, I was left struggling to find the right metaphor. Then, out of the blue, a realization hit me: my dreams are often like being in the middle of a Where’s Waldo? scene. Yes, that describes my cluttered dreams perfectly! Both are total chaos with a thousand unrelated things going on in a small space. With both, my mind tries desperately to absorb and make sense of it all, but there are still bits and pieces I overlook or miss. And with both, it is exhausting work to finally find the important thing/person in all the mayhem. I honestly need a nap after having one of these dreams!

Have you ever had a dream that felt more like an illustration out of a Where’s Waldo?  book than an actual dream?

 

© 2020 Amanda R. Dollak