When you crawl into bed at 11.45, you know it will be a rough start in the morning. But you optimistically switch on the alarm, intent on getting a run in at 6 before the house starts waking up.
Your legs twist around your husband's, and you sleepily yawn g'night as the warmth of legs and the duvet surrounds you. You close your eyes, weary from the early start that morning.
And you lie there. Awake.
At 2.49 you finally open your eyes, knowing that forcing them to stay closed isn't doing the trick. At 3.12 you open the laptop, knowing that the morning will not only be rough, it will be downright painful.
It's my genetic birthright, this sleeplessness. As a child we would tiptoe around my grandfather napping on the couch (the very couch now residing in my living room!) and overhear discussion about how he just didn't sleep at night. As a teenager I'd meet my dad on the stairs in the morning, asking us to please be quiet as we readied ourselves for school, because mom had been up in the night.
Up til now, I can count on one hand the times I've woken in the middle of the night, unable to sleep. For me, it is always the getting to sleep that eludes. I lie still, hoping to force my body into rest. Sometimes it works. Tonight, it did not.
Am rumpled in spirit. Rumpled in spirit, and perhaps feeling the pain of the world a little too keenly.
Anyone got any tricks for setting down the weight of the world, just for a night? This Desperate Housewife could use them.
It's 3.29 a.m. Do you know where your sanity is?