It’s 3:45AM, and I’m awake. This is bad on so many levels, the most important being that for the first time in 2009, I work tomorrow. Or, rather, today. in four hours. I don’t think I’ve slept as many hours as there are between now and when I start work. And I have to get up at 6, so we’re looking at two hours left tops. Today’s going to be fun.
I’m not sure where the insomnia is coming from. Certainly all the coffee I had yesterday didn’t help, but actually, I had less than usual. I think it’s more that I sucked up too much energy over the weekend, from many directions, and I need to be better about letting it go. Good, bad, ugly, neutral–I think it’s all just rolling around inside, and I Virgo "I’m fine’d" my way into this insomnia. My dreams all night have been full of anxiety, lots of repeats, lots of panic. I keep waking up sweating, worried about where my arms are, whether or not they’re about to fall asleep, etc. Helping nothing is that the whole house right now is full of garage sale shit. The porch is inundated with it. The dining room is sorting central. We haven’t picked up because the weekend was all sorting, and then there were lots of unexpecteds and several outings, some very, very fun, but it’s added up to house chaos. And there’s nothing like sorting through the crap that’s been in the basement for three years to remind you of where you’ve been.
Maybe some of this is realizing how much has changed, in the past two years, in the past five, the past ten. I think overall it is a good change, and even if it isn’t, there’s no going back, but every now and again it feels strange. Sometimes I think back to where I’ve been and I’m angry, frustrated that I ever had to be so stupid. A few periods are so very, very painful, because my naivete is so thick, and so bald, that I almost wish I could go back and slap myself. Some things have become lost for reasons I’ll never understand. Some things are broken because of where I was, which was wrong, but I can’t mend things now. Or, maybe I’m wrong. Maybe I’ll find later that they’re mendable after all.
Oddest of all is that, if I let go, I find I am, actually, in the right place. That I’m stronger than I think. That sometimes the past is very bittersweet, that sometimes it is a great sorrow, but that mostly it is just the past, the place I went through, the place which is both better and worse than I remember, the place which, I am not at, any longer.
There is so much to do before our vacation here at the beginning of June, and I know that’s got me in a whirlwind, too. Also, dear, beloved is very, very sick, and while I’ve been very happily supporting her and her family, I’m realizing now, in this night of no sleep, of how little I’ve let myself sit with the shock and fear and upset of how sick she is, and I need to do that. Certainly that’s the thing to take from this, that I gain nothing by being so strong and impervious to myself that I’m not really human. I always think I’ll be safe if I can keep myself up a little higher on the shelf, if I can be strong, if I can act and change the things around me.
The energy is strange and chaotic, and my urge is to try to control it, or, failing that, to panic or be angry. It’s really hard for me to let go of that and just dance in it. Really, really hard. But if there’s anything I’ve learned since the last time I had a garage sale and took a big trip, the last time I opened up my life, redistributed it, and let the energy change: well, dancing is usually all you can do, and you have to dance whether the music is beautiful or sad. It’s such an overdone metaphor, so trite in its tiredness. Yet still true.
Probably it helps nothing that all this makes me want, desperately, to write, but there’s no time for several days. Will attempt to dance through that, too, but let’s not hold our breath.