My Name is Jesse and I’m a Gold-Digger

I have a confession to make, and it’s probably going to gross you out. I can just imagine my mom reading this—the gagging sounds she’s going to be making.

But I need a place to work this out, and where better than a glorified diary that can be read by the entire internet?

I have a strange behavior that has developed over the last year—in the months since I moved back to Syracuse…

I’m just gonna say it…

I’ve become a “sleep-miner.”

As in “gold mine.”

As in “mining for gold.”

As in for some f**king reason I’ve started picking my nose in my sleep.

Like I’ll be mid-sleep, mid-dream…and then the dream will start becoming more and more lucid.

And then it’s just me, awake, staring at the ceiling with my finger in my nose.

It’s very strange and I feel dirty.

I googled “I pick my nose in my sleep” to find support.

The most relevant hit was from a website called (I’m not making this up, I will link below): F MY LIFE

http://www.fmylife.com

There is a place to “submit your FML” and also a place to “moderate the FMLs”.

I am not making this up.

See?

Do you see this?

It is entirely unhelpful. In fact, in case you’ve missed it, Emily in Canada picks her nose in her sleep, and her husband has taken a video to post to Facebook.

Instead of offering solutions to this subconscious/unconscious behavior, the site provides a place for you to vote “I agree, your life sucks” or to vote “You deserved it.”

The comments range from calls for her to break up with her boyfriend, to calls for her to kill her boyfriend, to calling her a “literal gold digger.”

There are not any helpful comments offering advice or insight on why one might pick their nose in their sleep and how to stop.

I’m sure this nocturnal behavior could be explored in therapy, but I’m not in a therapy mood right now. I’ve gone to therapy on and off since I was 10, and I like to think I know myself well enough to decide when I feel like it’s therapy-time, and I’m not there yet. I’m due probably next year-ish.

I mean, therapy is amazing, and I highly recommend it, even for people who have not had cancer or OCD or PTSD. In fact, if more generally HAPPY people went to therapy, they would probably be more likely to STAY happy people, and we could have an overall HIGHER functioning society.

Of course, not all people can afford therapy, which is another issue in and of itself…I mean look at the world we live in: non-white people are getting shot and killed left and right, white people are personally offended that you asked them to stay inside due to a deadly pandemic, and some just feel like they should storm and riot our government buildings because they’re feeling disappointment similar to the disappointment that many of us felt in 2016, but somehow managed to survive without invading the capitol and propping our stinky feet on Nancy Pelosi’s desk.

WE ALL NEED THERAPY.

BUT THIS IS NOT ABOUT THAT.

THIS IS ABOUT ME, MYSELF, AND MY NOSE.

And my boogers.

Okay?

Anyway, nocturnal nose-picking seems like something I should be able to manage myself.

I regret even searching the internet for a solution.

The internet is entirely unhelpful and I wish it could be gone forever.

Of course, then I could not have this blog.

But somehow I think we’d all be okay without it.

I would probably be way more high-functioning and just pick my nose during the damn DAY like a normal person.