There comes a moment in every woman’s life when she realizes she’s not “just tired” but she is, in fact, one REM cycle away from cursing an entire kingdom. And that, unfortunately for everyone around me, is my natural resting state. Welcome to my Maleficent Era that I’m still in, where I require ten uninterrupted hours of sleep or I become a walking HR violation with cheekbones.

I don’t wake up, it’s more that I rise, like a dramatic fog rolling over a doomed village. And if someone wakes me up before I’m ready? Congratulations, you’ve unlocked my villain form. My voice drops an octave, my hair gains volume it did not ask for, and my resting face becomes a legally binding threat. I don’t even have to say anything, my expression alone whispers, “I hex for sport.”

And listen… I hold grudges like they’re heirlooms….Family treasures….Generational wealth. If you woke me up early in 2014, I still remember. If you texted “u up?” at 6 AM on a Saturday, I have your name written in a leather bound ledger somewhere. Maleficent didn’t curse Aurora because she was evil, she cursed her because someone interrupted her beauty sleep. Honestly? Relatable.

When I don’t get enough sleep, I become a different species entirely. A petty, dramatic, slightly unhinged creature who narrates her own life like a villain monologue, pacing the kitchen in a robe, whispering, “They will regret this.” I’ll slam cabinet doors with the force of someone avenging a fallen dynasty. I’ll stare at people too long, not because I’m thinking, but because my brain has fully powered down and is buffering. I can only imagine what my face must look like and although I hope it would make you run in fear it’s probably more like confusion but ignore that and go back to my villain era.

If I drop something by accident, I’ll glare at the object like it betrayed me personally because what do you mean you just jumped out of my hand? I’ll eat snacks like a raccoon in a cursed forest, hunched over, eyes glowing, crumbs everywhere. If I’m really tired I’ll even go as far as responding to normal questions with ancient, cryptic riddles, because my brain refuses to form linear sentences when under rested. Then I’ll walk around the house like a Victorian ghost, silently drifting, judging, plotting.

And the worst part? I know I’m being dramatic. I can see myself doing it. I’m fully aware that I’m stomping around like a sleep deprived sorceress whose spellbook got stolen. But can I stop? Absolutely not. I am committed to the bit. I am method acting. I am the moment. The truth is….sleep is my superpower. My creative fuel. My emotional support blanket. My entire personality. It’s also my arch nemesis at the same time. Does that make sense? Probably not but neither does my love, need, want, and craving for sleep. Without it, I become the kind of villain who doesn’t want to destroy the world, just inconvenience it slightly. A petty curse here, a dramatic sigh there, a pointed glare that could wilt crops.

So, if you ever see me well rested, glowing, and speaking in full sentences, know that the kingdom is safe. But if I show up with under eye circles, mismatched earrings, and the energy of someone who has been awakened too soon? Run. I don’t want to curse you… But I will. Side note….if you can’t tell, this is my rant of the day. I had no real blog planned and to top it off the blog is late this week. Why you ask? I am exhausted. In a way that my bones and hair feel it. I am stressed and I am grumpy. I’ll be back with a much better thought at and well written blog next time. Today is for rants and being grumpy.

XOXO,

Savi Monroe