Recently I’ve been jonesing to get back up on the flying trapeze. How bad could it be, if I just go one more time again? Today I’m reminded why I shouldn’t. Because I still suffer the effects of the head injury from falling head-first from the trapeze over two years ago. Last night I spent the night in a lab for a sleep study. It wasn’t the 20 sensors they gooped onto my scalp that was so uncomfortable, but the plastic they shoved up my nose.

Then they woke me up after eight hours of sleep. I thought this was a sleep center?! They’re keeping me today until 6:30pm so that I can take naps every two hours. I thought this was heaven! Until these assholes keep waking me up after 20 minutes.

Because my short term memory is still shot, I had forgotten why I had to endure these daytime nap tests. I asked, and they reminded me that sometimes you can get narcolepsy from a head injury. Awesome, I tell my friend. How fun would that be if I had narcolepsy? She asks, Um, seriously?

No of course not. I’m just trying to be optimistic. And now I need to be realistic–no more trapeze for me. Just because I want to do something doesn’t mean I should. I am reminded I lack the moderation gene, and I have a slight impulse control problem. It might be fun and make me feel good in the moment, but it may not be in my best interest.

I’m reminded of this now, as I’ve been torn and ambivalent over what to do about a particular relationship issue. I know what I want, I know what feels good right now; but I also know what is good for me, and what is in my best interest overall. And they’re not the same. As is often the case in life.

Most of the time I love getting older. I love the feelings I’ve felt through the years that I never even knew existed. I love having met all the people in my life. I love seeing so many places on this earth. I love having lived through experiences I could never have imagined. I even love my mostly-salt-and-little-pepper hair. I love getting older. Except when it’s not so fun to act maturely.

I think my angst comes mostly from trying to fight accepting the mature and sensible decision. It’s not the decision itself that is most distressing. Sad, yes. But it’s the desire to override making the next right decision that has me worked up. And now that I’ve realized that, I’m at peace with the sensible decision. Well, I’m glad I was able to sleep on it and gain clarity.