Insomnia

The digital clock with the obnoxious green readout said 3:30. I had been tossing and turning for about 30 minutes at that time, so I finally gave up the dream of quickly falling back to sleep. I got up, made coffee, let the dog out, and settled down in front of the quietest form of entertainment to amuse myself- the laptop.

Just to let you know, this happens to me a lot.

I often feel disgusted with my insomnia. It feels like a failing on my part. I could be sleeping. I could get up and do things-- productive things. There’s laundry to be tackled. I could make a grocery list. There are forms to fill out for K’s foray into track and field. Unfortunately, nothing is really pressing (at least, as I perceive it in the middle of the night), except for Sophie’s impending visit to the vet, and well, that’s not going to happen at 3:50am. Then, by mid afternoon, when I will, once again, feel the overwhelming urge to crawl back into my bed, I will be disgusted with my mid-day fatigue.

You know, if there was some unobtrusive way to notify your friends who also suffer from insomnia that, “YES! We are both awake!” I bet that some of the greatest philosophical discussions could take place. We could have world peace by now, if only insomniacs around the world could unite.

The only thing that comes close to this is the chat function on Facebook. Since that was completely empty, I played Bejeweled. Maybe there are not as many insomnia-stricken individuals in my circle as once believed.

A year ago, my insomnia was plagued by worry, fear, anxiety. I should not complain; my late night wakefulness is full of inner reflection now. I’ve made a bucket list, remember, and I have lots of things on it waiting to be accomplished. I have my choice, and this leads me to the real topic of my post today.

One of my dreams has always been to finish up my student life with a terminal degree. I want the PhD. It hasn’t happened for me quite yet, because I can’t really design what that really means for me—why I really want it. I think I’ve come up the true answers, the real reasons behind this pull, and then I sit on them for a bit, and they fade away, and I’m left asking myself why all over again.

That’s not to say that I don’t know what I want to study- I do. That’s not to say that I don’t know how to get there- I have a definite plan, and I know exactly what I need to do. One of those things I should is get back into the swing of research—writing and presenting papers. I have a good idea that has been floating around in my mind. I have looked up articles and read theses and found conferences and call for papers.

I don’t do it anything about it, though. I play Bejeweled.

I don’t know if it is because I am scared, or because I am content right now, or just because I tend to lose interest in things quickly. I waffle between wanting more and wondering at why I want more. What am I getting out of this back and forth? What purpose does it serve? Is this just the defense mechanism I use to prove to myself that I am not ready yet?

Is it just habit now? I waited for months for something to break free in our lives, so that we could all move forward. Things broke free. I am free to move forward in almost any direction I choose, but I just cannot commit to a plan of action.

As the sky went grey, and then pink, and then bright blue, I thought on all of above-mentioned topics. The growing daylight brought comfort but little understanding. The one thing I realized while sitting on the cold patio this morning, watching the sun come up, is that I cannot be the only one who feels this way. Take the PhD out, and replace it with the novel, replace it with the small business, replace it with anything, and my guess is that people all over the world are having the same conversations with the rising sun. I am not alone in this endeavor to be better, to be more, to figure out what it all means to me, and that comforts me.