The Space Between

sleep
slēp/
noun
  1. 1.
    a condition of body and mind such as that which typically recurs for several hours every night, in which the nervous system is relatively inactive, the eyes closed, the postural muscles relaxed, and consciousness practically suspended.

Consciousness practically suspended.  Sounds lovely, doesn’t it?

I suck at sleeping.  Ask my mother.  This started in infancy and persists still today.  I should be used to it by now, but then, I should be used to a lot of things by now.  I used to be really productive during my insomnia.  I’ve been known to clean maniacally or bake pies.  I’d sometimes paint my nails or cut my hair.  I’d read or watch movies that no one else will watch, or catch up on shows in the DVR.  To be fair, I’ve done all of the proper sleep hygiene crap my doctors have insisted I try.  I’ve tried melatonin and a myriad of other prescription or OTC sleep aids that have only made me feel incredibly wobbly the next day.  I’ve stayed away from screens and tried meditation and listened to soothing music.  Trust me, I’ve tried everything.  But most nights, I spend several hours awake.  By night three of insomnia I become incredibly punchy and delirious.  It’s fun to watch.

Being awake while the house sleeps sometimes offers moments that one only really experience in the middle of the night or early morning: an owl in the distance, or coyotes yipping.  How early the birds start chirping, or that rooster crowing from down the road.  Sometimes it’s how bright the moon is, or perhaps a view of the Milky Way, or the beautiful stillness that comes before dawn.

But sometimes, the feeling of loneliness creeps in.  Just lying there listening to the noise that seems to never cease in my head.  Or the feeling of anxiety that settles like a tightly wound ball in the middle of my chest.  Sometimes there are pleasant memories, but some memories haunt me still.  Regrets from the past, guilt, pain.  So. Much. Fucking. Chatter.

I’ve managed to endure the darkness of another night, and now the sun is making it’s entrance.  I’m choosing to enjoy these last final moments alone before the day kicks in.  And so I bid you a Good Morning, Sun.  I’m so glad you’ve finally come.