By Lesley of nurturehernature.com
I have a problem. I am infatuated and have lost all control over my actions. And it’s growing worse.
Like a good little love addict, I started off small—a glance here, a flip there, a slow turn up of the volume occasionally. But I am now losing sleep—oh, precious sleep—and sneaking around. I make sure my daughter is fast asleep and all the blinds are closed. I’m not partial to any particular type; any kind will do, even the trashiest. Yes, folks, I’ve hit rock bottom.
It all began innocently enough. I awoke in the middle of the night and was unable to get back to sleep. Having always been an incredibly skilled sleeper, this was rather unusual. The first two nights it happened, I lay in bed running through to-do lists in my mind for a good couple hours. On the third night, I realized I was wasting precious time inside my head, so I got up, grabbed my computer, and got a little work done.
Not long after, the need for water led me downstairs with my computer, and I parked on the couch. It was just too quiet, so I turned on the TV, which I often do for background noise when my daughter is gone. Before I knew it, the computer had been tossed aside, and I was watching television every night I couldn’t sleep. I don’t know exactly what caused that transition. After all, I went from being productive to being a vegetable. But there it is.
Perhaps it was the guilt that did me in. You know what I mean. That feeling of guilty pleasure—luxuriating in the debasement. I limit my daughter’s screen time, telling her it’s not healthy to spend so much time in front of the television, yet I clamber down the stairs each night to do exactly that. It’s a comfort somehow, a removal of myself from the real world. On that screen is all the drama, horror, and filth I do not want in my life but have a human need for. And it really is a need at this point.
I need sleep, and I need television. The two used to battle, but television wins out every time now. I justify it by telling myself that I’m actually giving my brain a break; it works harder during sleep than it does watching television. I even become giddy with the thought of sneaking around in the dark of night. It’s a pleasure–an adult pleasure. I can watch television whenever I want. I’m in control. Or am I?
I was already sliding down the bad-parent spiral. I allow work to invade my time with my daughter too often, and she’s starting to call me on it. I’m a busy lady. I have a full-time job (one that really equates to a double full-time job) and am the co-owner of two businesses, a Sunday school teacher, and a single mother. I know that is no excuse. I am trying to rectify things by reprioritizing, putting my daughter first. For instance, I am leaving my full-time job to give us more together time. But now I’m afraid that my addiction will undo my best intentions. What if the nighttime tryst carries over into the daytime now that I’ll be working from home? I have a lot to think about.
And I will as soon as this program is over.
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About the Author
Lesley is an editor and writer by trade; by heart, she is a mom, a sister, a daughter, and a friend. She laughs obnoxiously loud at her own jokes and has a knack for balancing pens on the end of her nose. She blogs at nurturehernature.com.