I woke up around midnight with a start. It had been several weeks since I had a bout of insomnia, so when it struck, it wasn’t really a surprise. I had been expecting it to rear up sooner or later.
Insomnia tends to strike when I have a high level of stress. This week, I have a high level of stress. There are several things at work right now that need to be done, and done immediately, but things have not been going according to plan. It’s been difficult, but logically, I know that everything will be okay, even if it doesn’t get done by the end of the week. Logically, I know that I can troubleshoot, and get the work done. Logically, I know that I will not be in trouble, and I do not have to worry about losing my job. My boss and co-workers know how hard I work, and they know how difficult some of our recent tasks have been.
Unfortunately, all of the logic in the world doesn’t stop my body from responding with that sick, stomach-dropping feeling and a pounding heart. Logic doesn’t stop the dark thoughts from the deep recesses of my brain who like to tell me that this is some variety of failure, on my part.
That was what woke me up in the middle of the night. The feeling that I wouldn’t be able to get it all done, and worries that more problems would spring up. I wish I knew a better way to calm myself down, but what tends to work best is to go ahead and get up, and then do things around the house that calm me. Like dishes. Laundry. Writing out to-do lists. Blogging. Somehow—and believe me, I have no idea why—somehow all of this makes it better. Action and concerted effort refocus my energy and allow me to gain some semblance of control over the problems that have decided to plague me during the night.
I always try, at first, to lay still and calm myself down. I always think that maybe, just maybe, I will be able to slow down my breathing and meditate, clearing my mind of all the thoughts crouching there, ready to spring up and scream at me. I want it to work, because I am old enough now to feel the effects of being up all night. It used to be that I would have a night of no sleep due to insomnia, and I could manage. Maybe even two nights. Now, getting less than seven hours of sleep kicks my ass. I feel awful. I worry that I will fall asleep at my desk. I worry that I will mess something up in my reduced state, making a problem even worse. I desperately want to get back to sleep. The problem is, it never works. Perhaps it is the dark, the stillness that invites all of the negative thoughts to really speak up, to try to gain the forefront of my attention.
It reminds me of the cold, dark, stillness at this time of year. Right before Valentines and birthdays and the impending spring, the winter always seems to be its darkest, coldest, bleakest. The snow on the ground, the negative degree temperatures, and the lack of light seems to cling on the earth, unwilling to give up its hold on all of us.
Combine this with kiddos who could now actually go back to school (enough snow is removed to get out and about, but not enough to warrant the niceties, such as mail service) if it weren’t for the fact that they had contracted a nasty virus. Ant sprang back in short order and is actually back at school, but K is still knocked down flat. It’s been over a week, and we’re still searching for the light at the end of the tunnel. A trip to the doctor’s office proved very unhelpful, but more on that some other time.
Add on an impending birthday party, whose planning has been placed on the back burner for far too long, as we deal with work and snow and sickness. I want to be the mother who plans the perfect party and carries it off without a hitch, but sometimes just throwing a good party has to suffice.
Add on my son’s National History Day project—something that he had been working on for months, but could not complete by the deadline due to being sick. I wish I could help him on this—not doing the work itself, but helping him to complete the project. I can’t—it’s his project to finish. It’s his hard work, his creation.
It all equals up to a lot of things on my mind, a lot of dark, crouching thoughts, ready to spring into action at the first sign of weakness. The good news is that tonight, despite the insomnia and the way my body will protest by one o’clock in the afternoon tomorrow, I have a clean kitchen and clean towels. I have party invitations filled out and ready to mail. And I have been able to let my emotions and worries flow out of my mind and onto the page. This makes me feel infinitely better.
My only hope is that this post sounds reasonably sane to those who read it. If not, please don’t burst my bubble. Just slowly nod your head and back away slowly. No sudden moves around the jumpy, sleep-deprived girl.
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