I hate not sleeping. Sleeping is wonderful. I forget (unless I dream) and I don’t have to count the minutes or the hours.
But frequently… insomnia wins again. The lack of sleep. Being unable to lay down and rest. Just … awake.
Almost hyper aware of everything, except that I’m numb and sad and lonely.
And I can’t sleep to escape it.
Today, I had to move some of his stuff. That stuff will never go back there again. It no longer lives where it did. If he were alive, we’d find a new home for it, but it doesn’t need a new home… instead it just hangs out in the corner of my craft room, where it might have belonged, but doesn’t… and reminds me that he’s not here.
And I can’t sleep to escape that thought. Or the memory of having to move his waders. Or the memory of the 1/2 hour of sobbing that followed.
I’m going to try to be productive, but I’m awake. I want to be sleeping. I want to sleep most of the time. But I’m awake. And aware. And not willing to self-medicate to not be awake or aware… it’s not fair to me or my children.
I miss him.