Insomnia, when you really want to sleep but can’t.
I don’t have trouble falling asleep. Ever.
The days are so busy that by the time I fall into bed, I am exhausted.
Insomnia came to visit me when William died. Not at first, not in those first few, grief stricken months, when my body screamed "ENOUGH"! and shut itself down into blessed, dreamless sleep. It crept in slowly, with the nightmares and over the years has come for repeat visits like an unwanted relative, who doesn’t know when they have worn out their welcome.
Maybe I had too much coffee yesterday. Maybe but I don’t think so.
I went to bed at 10:30 and Ivy woke at 11:03 and for some reason I could not find sleep again. Even though it found Ivy at around 2am, it didn’t allow me the same courtesy. This (early) morning, sleep is not my friend. I spit in it’s general direction. It has forsaken me. Left my mind to run wild and my body to crave it like some illegal substance.
This wasn’t supposed to happen until I was old. Insomnia, isn’t it the disease of the aging?
Here I sit in the dark with my new constant companion, Laptop. I’ve read the comments of my bloggy friends and sent a few off. I’ve pondered why my dogs are scratching themselves like mad when they were only bathed in flea shampoo and treated with Frontline yesterday. I’ve listened to the sounds of the sleep filled house and I have wished I were there, in sweet oblivious sleep.
I am going to pay for this come daybreak.
