Good night / day, friends. What do you think about when you can’t sleep?
It is 4:30 in the morning, and I got up to pee about 2 long hours ago.
I am still awake because THOUGHTS. Here is a short list of things my mind decides to entertain in the stone-fold middle of the night:
1. I worry about my kids, especially in the wee hours of the morn. I worry for them individually and as a whole. I worry that I worry too much. I worry that I don’t worry enough.
2. A dear friend just lost another beloved pet yesterday, and my heart breaks for her, my own heart still grieving my special Catsby. Oh the loss, loss, loss of the past three years, across the board. The loss of people, animals, ways of life.
3. Why did I ever think God moved Heaven and Earth for me to get a good parking space, while children in the world are starving. SMH.
4. The intelligence of every living thing. This subject weaves itself in my waking and sleeping life. I dream of vast galaxies and our place in them. I ponder much on the minutiae too. Life-creating mitochondria. Every cell in every tree, leaf, and flower is bursting with evidence of divinity. Every single one of us is life made of a zillion pieces of life, the whole cosmos a part of us too.
5. We have no idea what lives in the ocean, really. And that’s part of the allure. Damn, I miss swimming in the ocean.
6. I miss my mother-in-law. Really miss her. She was really something special. I miss having a “mom.”
7. How much pain will I be able to stand before I can’t stand it any more with this stupid disease? Everyone has a limit; not knowing where mine lies can be scary.
8. Estrangement is the weirdest thing ever, but boundaries are the best thing ever. And that makes for industrial-grade emotional f*ckery.
9. Religion is the opiate of the masses, they say, and I’ve officially OD’d. Just LOVE for me going forward, thanks. I’m over labels. Check please!
10. Feeling long-expired pangs of social angst anew about that one time I was unintentionally rude to someone (but I was just socially overwhelmed.) Oh, and the approximately 7 million additional times I was socially awkward. OOF.
That’s just a sampling. I wonder what it’s like to have insomnia thoughts like: “I need to get the oil changed,” or “I think we are out of detergent.” What’s that even LIKE?
And so I’m finally tired now again, feeling the heavy cream of sleepiness pour over me. My mind eases, I feel God’s comfort. I open my palms in a physical relinquishing of worries before closing my eyes…
I fell asleep easy enough, but a few hours later I woke up to pee (we keep it real here, right?) like I do every other night at least three times, and was assaulted by hip pain when I stood up. Soon after, when I crawled back into bed, I felt the familiar dull headache begin stirring behind my eyes.
Terrific.
I tried to go back to sleep. I really did. But although I was desperately tired, I hurt. Hurting in the middle of the night is a lonely endeavor. Whereas I normally might complain to my long-suffering but incredibly supportive husband, he was fast asleep.
Soon, my mind got in on the action.
Suddenly – at 4 a.m. – I had this primal wave of worry wash over me. As if pain was tag-teaming anxiety. I tossed and turned, and asked God for a little help here, please. We are going through such a weird and wild season right now.
At 4 a.m., I wanted assurances.
I wanted to call my adult child and make sure she was okay. And then I wanted her to make promises to do what I cannot even manage myself – to get my sh*t together. I wanted God to guarantee her safety. To guarantee all of us safety.
Then, the spiraled from there….
I wanted to log into my email and find five job offers in my in-box. Even though I’m really not healthy enough to work right now.
I wanted to will myself well and get on with life already.
I wanted to lift all of my husband’s worries off of his sleeping chest, so that when he wakes in the morning, his burdens are lifted.
I wanted to know that the world is not imploding, contrary to the evidence all around us.
I wanted to fast-track my therapy to purge my closet of skeletons in one fail swoop.
I wanted to stop feeling so crappy about myself.
I wanted a magic pill to calm my nerves so I could sleep.
I wanted – no, I NEEDED to tangibly feel God’s presence RIGHT NOW. Isn’t that the real craving? Without it, no amount of ‘fixed’ satisfies.
Instead, the more I panicked, the more it felt as though my prayers were bouncing off the ceiling.
A little voice in my spirit tapped me gently on the shoulder as if to say, “Excuse me….I hate to interrupt your anxiety attack and throbbing headache, but – um…..Pslams.”
I took a deep breath.
In another lifetime (fifteen years to be exact) I was a single mother of two pre-teen daughters. I was juggling four jobs after having been a stay at home mom all their lives. I became estranged from unhealthy relationships to safeguard my recovery. My health problems kicked in, aided by the stress. My car window didn’t roll up – a hefty bag and duct tape was all that kept me dry. We lived in a bad neighborhood. It felt like loss, loss, loss.
Since the separation from my girls’ father, it had just been one thing after another after another – big life issues – the kind of things that threatened by then-newish (four years) sobriety. That I survived that season in life sober is a walking-on-water caliber miracle.
All on my own and responsible for the lives of two beautiful girls, I’d never felt so alone. I lived on coffee, Diet Coke and cigarettes, and the only other reliable staple I had was my Bible and prayer life.
I made it a habit each morning to rise before my children, grab my Virginia Slim menthols and a cup of coffee, and sit outside on my porch with my Bible, looking for answers. Looking for assurances between drags on cigarettes.
Psalms are assurances. If you read them aloud, they are even promises.
There is no magic pill for me. I’m an alcoholic. I am wise enough to not trust myself to substances.
But there are Psalms.
So this morning, I’m sharing this little love letter that God led me to just now. The words were written by a man who just couldn’t get his sh*t together either – the biblical David. I love David because he is desperate and wildly in love with God, all at once.
I hope these verses speak to you, too. God pretty much drug me out of bed to come write this post. Maybe somebody out there somewhere can feel a little less alone.
Read the Psalms aloud – they are meant for those whose worlds are imploding. Savor every word.
At 4 a.m., I wanted assurances. Thanks Papa God for showing up. You always do.
(I would also love to know what your favorite Psalms are, too.)
Need a Psalm? Take a Psalm.
Have a Psalm? Leave a Psalm.
And God bless us, every one.
“I run to you, God; I run for dear life. Don’t let me down! Take me seriously this time! Get down on my level and listen, and please—no procrastination!
Your granite cave a hiding place, your high cliff aerie a place of safety.
You’re my cave to hide in, my cliff to climb.
Be my safe leader, be my true mountain guide. Free me from hidden traps; I want to hide in you.
I’ve put my life in your hands. You won’t drop me, you’ll never let me down.
I hate all this silly religion, but you, God, I trust.
I’m leaping and singing in the circle of your love; you saw my pain, you disarmed my tormentors,
You didn’t leave me in their clutches but gave me room to breathe. Be kind to me, God— I’m in deep, deep trouble again.
I’ve cried my eyes out; I feel hollow inside. My life leaks away, groan by groan; my years fade out in sighs.
My troubles have worn me out, turned my bones to powder. To my enemies I’m a monster; I’m ridiculed by the neighbors….
Desperate, I throw myself on you: you are my God! Hour by hour I place my days in your hand, safe from the hands out to get me.
Warm me, your servant, with a smile; save me because you love me. Don’t embarrass me by not showing up; I’ve given you plenty of notice…..
What a stack of blessing you have piled up for those who worship you, Ready and waiting for all who run to you to escape an unkind world.
You hide them safely away from the opposition. As you slam the door on those oily, mocking faces, you silence the poisonous gossip.
Blessed God! His love is the wonder of the world. Trapped by a siege, I panicked. “Out of sight, out of mind,” I said. But you heard me say it, you heard and listened.
Love God, all you saints; God takes care of all who stay close to him, But he pays back in full those arrogant enough to go it alone.
Be brave. Be strong. Don’t give up. Expect God to get here soon.” – Psalms 31 (MSG)
Last night was a self-choreography of tossing, turning, fitfulness. Like synchronized swimming in the bed.
Yet, the sun still came up this morning, right on time.
Last night, when I scrootched in bed next to my sleepy husband around 10:00 p.m., the possibility of slumber seemed promising. I was in peaceful spirits because I had made it through the entire day without any pain medication at all. For over a month, I had been weaning down to only one-half tablet per day at bedtime for pain due to a surgical procedure. But not today, I thought, triumphantly. This pain, I can handle.
I tried to get comfortable, as the mild throbbing in my leg intensified. Sleeping in the orthopedic boot is as awkward as sleeping with one of those giant “#1!” foam fingers you see waved around at football games strapped to your leg, if that foam finger were made of brick. Still, I can usually manage to sleep a little.
Not tonight. It is now 1:00 in the morning.
The pain is spread like a rash in my bones. I take three Advil, and wait for them to negotiate with the pain.
Meanwhile, I move my spastic-ness to the living room couch and try to settle in there. There’s no point in keeping my hubby up as well. Our dog – an elderly Golden Retriever with a lapdog mentality, tries to jump on the couch next to me. I scold her. She slurps me with a kiss to the face anyway, because, honestly, Golden Retrievers don’t know any other way to react except with love. I could learn a lot from my dog.
On this night, the Advil is a crappy negotiator. I take the boot off, but my ankle feels too vulnerable.
So, I put the boot back on, and it feels heavy on the hardware in my leg, like there is no flesh between it and the titanium plate.
I don’t feel like “#1!”
I start to worry about things, because the peace in my tired mind had vacated hours ago. One anxious thought leads to another until the soundtrack to my mind goes something like this:
“I wonder if I took enough chicken out to defrost last night. Did I remember to feed the cat? I wonder if Blues Traveler broke up, or if they might be touring? I like harmonica music. Hmmmm…..What bills have I not paid yet? What if our kids live with us forever and never fly the nest? (this is when the thoughts took a turn for the worse, I think.) OHNO!How can Bob and I make them NOT WANT TO live at home forever? We make things way too easy for these girls…..How much RENT should we charge them? Oh, no….but I WILL MISS THEM when the nest is EMPTY! When should I look for another job? WHAT IF I DON”T FIND ANOTHER JOB??? Why is the economy so bad? Where will the price of gas level out? WHAT IF I NEVER WALK ON MY ANKLE NORMALLY AGAIN AND WHAT IF I CAN”T LOSE THESE FIFTEEN POUNDS AND NEVER BRING MY TRYGLICERIDES DOWN AND OHMYGOSH, I”VE BLOGGED EVERY DETAIL OF MY LIFE AND WHY DID I DO THAT???”……
You get the idea.
3:34 in the a.m. now.
My oldest daughter be-bops out of her room to go to the bathroom down the hall and sees me on the sofa. I shut my eyes quickly and try to fake sleep (oh how the tables do turn)…..it’s too late. She lights up like a Christmas tree.
“You have insomnia too, Mom?” She beams, like we’ve both been invited to a Prince’s ball, instead of sentenced to a night without sleep.
Because usually, when neither she nor I can sleep, we agree to watch a movie, or play Scrabble together, or look at funny pictures of animals saying captioned things on the internet until one of us gets sleepy. She is young, at that glorious time in life in which she can choose to eat or not eat what she wants. Sleep or not sleep. It makes no difference to her body….yet.
No, I grouse at her, turning over on the couch. Not tonight.
Then, it comes, the slightest hint of drowsiness, as if someone is pouring sleep over my head. Ah….sweet, sweet slumber. Sleepiness is warm, I think, pulling my soft blanket up and smiling a bit. Really warm. Whew…..I kick off the blanket, panting. Dammit! This is not sleepiness!
HOT. FLASH.
If these villians all formed an alliance to combat the superhero of Sleep…they would be Pain, Anxiety and Menopause.
And they were attempting to take up headquarters in my body!
I start to cry a little now, because I am being slowly drenched in sweat, and I’m already miserably tired. Sometimes I have to get to the point of crying to remember to pray, and this was one of those times.
I began to pray for myself. I asked that God would help me combat the forces keeping me awake. Ouch, Lord. Ouch! And a hot flash, really? But as I pray, I began thinking about all of the people I am blessed to know who are standing in much bigger need of prayer. I didn’t really want to , to be truthful. I wanted to complain and be grumpy. But….Names and faces, appearing in my mind, rapid-fire….until there is no room to worry about lesser things. I lay still (and blanket-less) and try to concentrate.
I see the face of a friend who is in the intensive care unit in a hospital in Chapel Hill, fighting for her life. Pray. I think of my three closest friends, and the battles they are going through right this very minute, real issues with potentially lasting implications, and I ask God’s guidance for each of them by name. Several long-distance friends from high-school, brought back into my life via the miracle of Facebook, who stand in the need of prayer two-thousand miles away…..please, Lord, hear their cries.
Miles are no hindrance to God. And neither are units of time….hours, minutes, seconds…time that I’ve designated for sleeping. Maybe He had designs on my insomnia for other purposes. Maybe for prayer.
There was no sleeping last night, and I will stumble around today with Uncle-Fester-esque circles under my eyes. I will also most likely be a bit ill-tempered with sleep deprivation. But as I write this, my elderly Golden Retriever is wrapped around my feet, not seeming to mind the awkward orthopedic boot under her head, not seeming to mind that I wouldn’t let her on the couch with me last night. She is sleeping, not a worry in the world.
Musings of a Gypsy Soul 