A few days ago I wrote a poem about sleeplessness. It’s really the only writing I do anymore and its been ages since I’ve done a blog post. I always mean to write. You know how people say, she means well. My whole life is like that. I always meant well. Things just haven’t turned out so well as I meant.
So sleeplessness is a fact of life. I wake up about four a.m. I can’t go back to sleep. So I start what I call my research. It’s really just media bingeing. I browse Facebook, look at my photos, check out kindle books, maybe read a chapter, and then see what cheap audio book I can get to add to my collection so work can be bearable.
That’s the goal now, to make life bearable, since things haven’t gone as well as I meant them to. This time is also the time I’ll message people, my friends that I have left, that haven’t unfriended me yet or family, the ones who still talk to me.
Life is endless waiting, waiting for something good to happen, waiting for someone to come around, waiting for God to answer my prayers, waiting for the next event that will make my day bearable.
So I also make plans when I’m sleepless. Maybe he won’t have something to do today and he’ll do this with me or maybe we can do this today or will that someone come today and we’ll have to revolve our plans around him.
Mostly I try not to think about Monday. That’s the day the work week begins and life becomes only maybe bearable. If I can just put in this time until Friday…
I want to be honest. This wasn’t what I was thinking of when I was young and I thought about what my life would be or even a few years ago when I thought I had turned a new leaf, when I became a published writer. Life was exhilarating at that moment. Now I’m just happy that I lost a few pounds, or that I saw my grandson today. Or that I still have parents alive. Maybe I should just practice gratitude for those small things. Another thing to do when I am sleepless.