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When it’s a bad idea, but you do it anyway

November 12, 2014

When the prospect of time alone, quiet, writing and reading eclipses the prospect of sleep, you know you’re desperate. Without writing, my brain doesn’t know what to do. It churns and swirls the same sludge until it’s toxic. I can slow it, cleanse it a little with my breath, with awareness of my body, but it’s not quite the same.

There’s something that happens when you have a child, and I’m told lasts the rest of your life, the sense of being on perpetual high alert. I think of my grandma, who woke up first and went to be last, always. I thought it was because the older you get the less sleep you need. Now I suspect it had more to do with solitary moments with a cup of coffee, or maybe just and inability to lie there, thinking.

I’ve been awake since 4:30. I got out of bed at 5:30. I know I’m going to pay for it, but the pull was too great. My thoughts were too much. When I’ve gotten it out of my system though and find the quiet within myself, once the first coffee’s drunk, only then will I be ready for few more hours of solid sleep.

And Eli will be awake for the day.

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