Circling, Cycling, Counting

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It’s 4:30 am, and I’m in a holding pattern for 10 minutes or so until I need to go prep Rachel’s first dose of the day.

Thanks to everyone who’s written to ask if I’m OK. Truth is…not really. I’m clinging to the precipice with fingernails dug in, circling in a world of stress, little sleep, and a creative fog. I so dislike the person I’ve become that I’ve stopped communicating any more than necessary, and my dreams have taken on a nightmarish surreality.

Solutions don’t come easy. One of them – more sleep – does not happen on the current schedule (4:30am rising) without drugs because no matter what time I get up in the morning, my mind won’t sleep until after midnight, sometimes later. People who think it’s easy to reset a natural diurnal rhythm have obviously never tried it. For me, it takes discipline and diligence, and even after 3 months of a new drug-driven schedule, the minute I drop my guard, my internal clock resets itself within 48 hours.

I do not have a sleep disorder. Left to my own devices, I sleep an uninterrupted 7-8 hours, dream well, awake naturally and refreshed. My daughter is the same way, and she doesn’t have the distractions of a job or electronics. Creativity soars. Right now, my creative spirit is at an all time low; my mind numb.

Sleep, unfortunately, isn’t the only issue. I do wish it were.

It’s times like these that the lesson of “count your blessings” is a lifesaver. I do so…every day. Rachel is stable. I have glorious friends, like those who’ve asked about my lack of blogging and writing. My mother, who turned 81 last week, is healthy, despite the normal problems of her age, and we still have a good time talking and laughing. Her wisdom never fails me. These are the things that keep me going.

And go I do. I’ve exceeded my 10 minutes, so I must run. Rachel and I need our caffeine…

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