I realised I never write about my insomnia, which is weird because insomnia, mine in particular, is why I started writing in the first place. It seemed like something to do instead of laying awake wishing I could sleep.
I don’t often wish I could sleep, mainly because I know that is the worst way to respond to insomnia. It would slowly drive me crazy with frustration, if I did
So usually I get up, walk around the house, sit on the deck, listen to music, blog etc. Today, it is day, it’s two am (on a work night) I am in a 24 hour cafe eating egg custard and drinking hot chocolate. Seemed like a good idea at the time. There are two customers and four staff here. I was asked if I was here because I couldn’t sleep. As other customers arrive they are clearly tradies or truckers.
I have insomnia for two reasons; 1. I think too much and 2. I have a diagnosed sleep disorder for which there isn’t any treatment that doesn’t have side-effects that aren’t worth it.
The egg custard is really good. Well worthy the 15 minute drive and getting dressed. I had briefly wondered if I forgot to get dressed when the server had asked me if I couldn’t sleep.
I can’t get to sleep because of 1 and I can’t stay asleep because of 2. So how can my busy autistic brain think less and enable me to get to sleep? Friends and over the years, significant others, have all suggested I just think less. I often wonder at both the brilliance and stupidity of this suggestion.
Do they not think that if it was that simple, I wouldn’t have got it by now? But then I remember that their brains do not work in the same way as my brain and it is more that it should be that simple, but it isn’t. They haven’t been able to understand that no matter how tired I am, as soon as I got to bed analysis of the day must begin, as if I am literally programmed to do this.
I had actually had an hour or so’s sleep when I woke up from a bad dream at about 1am and knocked my water bottle on the floor, swore and got up to walk around the house, snack and go sit on the deck listening to music.
Then I got melancholy. I missed my wife. A wave of grief washed over me and I thought about my grief counsellor saying I needed to let the grief out when it came. I should set time aside to cry. And then I got angry. I don’t want to keep being sad at random times. I want to be able to have a good day, go to bed, sleep, wake up and have another good day.
Yes, another milestone event is coming up, my first birthday since Jane died. A ‘big birthday’ that she had been planning celebrations for, for a few years. Yes, it is normal to be hit by these waves of grief, especially at times like these. But, I am not sure I want two weeks of this. Let alone two more months, which will be a year since her death.
Could be a letter from the lawyer that triggered this particular wave of grief. Or the finalisation of the scholarship I set up in her and our company’s names for nurses who are studying pharmacology in New Zealand. Something that she would be so pleased that I have done.
Or just that it was a moment in time where the wave rose up and washed over me. There is no rhyme nor reason to grief. And I am tired of it. I want to be certain that the next moment is not the moment I could be swept under the weight of all that grief crashing down. All those what if’s, all those lost future experiences together as a couple, as a family. All those difficult times that all relationships have, wasted effort working on things to keep our lives on track, together forever. Wasted because forever turned out to be only 14 years and not my forever.
Maybe this insomnia was caused by saying, joking, that I could hold a door forever whilst someone else was fixing the fixings. Because forever does not mean a long time to me anymore. I cannot imagine ever thinking that a relationship could be a forever one. Because nothing is forever, everything changes. They or I would inevitably either die or leave for some other reason.
And yet, I want that ‘forever relationship’ for my son. I want him to find that happiness that will break your heart when it ends and create beautiful babies and I want to see and hold my mokopuna (grandchildren) who will not be legally related to me but will be so mine that no-one would ever know.
I could have called friends to talk, so why did I drive to a cafe? The truth is mundane. I wanted to sit on the beach and watch the waves come and go and let my grief dissipate over time with the ocean’s rhythm. But I was afraid that it wouldn’t be safe to do this as a single female in the dark in the early hours of the morning. Or that I didn’t know for sure which beach o could safely sit on at this time. I thought about bringing the dog, who had draped himself over me earlier when I was in the deck. But he doesn’t really like being in the car and I am not sure he would really have been able to keep me safe.
If you are raising sons, teach them to respect everyone and treat all people well so that in a generation violence will diminish. I cannot comprehend it when mothers say ‘it’s just boys being boys’ when young boys hurt others. Then when the young boys become older boys or young men, and that hurting others is still there, is that still boys being boys.
Some boys and men are lovely and kind, gentle and caring. This is the epitome of manliness and the traits society should be wanting in men. And yet, it doesn’t seem to be what the media or shops or even some families want for their boys.
Enough random thoughts. Time to drive home before I get too tired to drive safely. It remains to be seen if I will be able to sleep when I get home at what will be around 3am. Need to get up at 7am for work.
Rest well everyone. Don’t think so much and at the same time think more deeply about how we can all make small changes to make the world a better place.