winkgirl4's Diaryland Diary

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No Rest for the Weary

In the past 4 months, I've slept like a...well, like a normal person. I go to bed at a decent time. I nab about 6 hours of sleep (which is exceptional for me) and I wake up refreshed. That was until this last week or so where I've barely been able to sleep at all.

I am sure that my insomnia is never going to fully go away and I'm sure I can expect it to return in spurts, here and there, but I can't help think that this is stress induced.

My mind is on overload. Last night, while the world slept, I cleaned out two closets, threw away seven boxes of stuff that has just piled up, read and re-read journal entries like this one. (You'll need to scroll down to Thurday,30 May)and like this one. (yes, scroll to the last entry for the same date) and remembered how my heart felt like it was being wrung out at that time. I read bad poetry I'd written. I read decent poetry I'd written (both pieces) and I tallied figures trying to shuffle funds so that I can make a trip to South Carolina for Monica's wedding (one month before I need to make the move to L.A.)

I made a hand-cut picture frame for my Nana and thought about how I need to go to see her tomorrow and help her get a bath.

I looked through the scrapbooks I've put together for my son and my daughter and noticed how much more I have of my son and cried a little over the fact that I'm losing part of my daughter's life and that there is a very real risk that I may never get her back.

I read old love letters. I threw out others. I organized my craft boxes and my picture drawers. I came across an angel that I made out of my daughter's hand- and footprint. I cried some more.

I read my divorce papers, scanning the lists of things I gave away and, strangely enough, felt nothing but relief. Like a very real weight was being lifted from my shoulders.

I dusted my shelves and took inventory of all the books that I'd be willing to sell to keep from hauling them across country- talking myself out of most of them. I stared at the new picture of Christian (who IS my boyfriend, now)and me and felt that strange combination of warmth and coldness you get when feel something so deeply and yearn for it, at the same time.

I laid in bed and tried to wrap my mind around the move. What I was going to have to do and when I was going to have to do it. I tried to sleep but my mind wouldn't turn off.

I read a couple chapters of "Unless" by Carol Shields and thought about how this was the second time in two days that someone has referred to themselves being "existenially lonely or sad". I realized that I can't really put a finger on what it is that I'm feeling because it's a culmination of emotions. Some are bitter. Some are sweet. But, all of it is the recipe for something that is just going to be the making of me and, as much as I'm excited by the potential outcome, some of the details are hard to swallow- and apparently, sleep on.

8:01 a.m. - 2003-03-26

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