Sleep

Middle of the night.  Can’t sleep.  Lay in bed tossing and turning, for what seemed like hours.  Being careful not to toss too vigorously so Don wouldn’t wake up, but another part of me, really wanting him to, so maybe then I could talk with him about all the little niggling worries that leap on me at night and they would go away.

I really should make my computer go directly to my mailbox and bypasses all the bad news. 

And when the news isn’t depressing me, then don’t worry, I can manage to drum up worries quite fine all on my own. 

Are my children happy?  Is water really going to get as scarce as they say?  Is it inflation or deflation?  Am I making good decisions?  Keeping the family finances safe?  How is my mother doing?  My daughter?  My son?  Will and his friend get on a plane in a few hours.  He is grown, and yet, still I get scared.  Does my writing suck?  I have to read a friend’s manuscript and how am I going to find the time and the focus when I am struggling so mightily with my own?  What should I make for breakfast?  Why can’t I sleep through the nights anymore?  Will this fractured sleep stop when I get through menopause?  Or is this the way it’s going to be here on out?  Why is it that the better my life gets and the happier I am, the more scared I get about dying?  Shouldn’t it be the other way around?  And then there is that article my brother Ben sent me about Palin that scared the c__p out of me. 

Anyway, those are just a handful of things that my mind flipped to while lying in bed while sleep laughed at me.  There were tons more. 

Posted by Meg Tilly on Saturday, September 06, 2008 in Chewing the Fat