I don’t want to close my eyes…

Ya know how some little kids can’t fall asleep because they don’t want to miss anything?  They stay awake, miserable, but determined to stick with the struggle of wakefulness, despite their parents’ best efforts at keeping routines and bedtimes alive. 

That was me.  That was Nat.  That was Owen.  That’s been almost every person with whom I’ve connected, and still do.  When we’re awake, we’re watching, capturing moments, recording behaviors, and memorizing.

That thing about missing out, missing the party, missing the next clip, missing the next turn around the next corner…some of us can’t imagine not being there, awake in the moment, a part of the scene.  Whatever that scene may be, who cares, just being there, awake, is the important thing.

When I was growing up, sleep was my favorite pastime, as it afforded me the pleasure of catching up, or so I thought.  I loved my afternoon naps.  I loved my dreams.  I loved falling asleep in the car while my husband kept the car moving in the direction we were going.  (I always hated riding the horse in the other direction.)  Sleep experts say there’s no such thing as “catching up from lost sleep.  Once it’s lost, it’s lost.”  I beg to differ. 

Those of us who lose sleep to our minds’ meanderings through days and nights of wakefulness, may grow older quicker.  We may experience a kind of stress unknown to those who live lives of ordered schedules, scheduled routines.  Our hair may turn white faster (mine certainly has), and our skin turns paper thin before its time.  But, we live life fast for reasons we can’t explain to those who don’t share this adjusted timeline.

We don’t live our lives by the rising and setting of the sun.  We notice, we admire, but we don’t set our watches by the earth’s revolutions.  Our circadian rhythms are altered somewhat from the earth’s motion.  We have a hard time functioning in a 24-hour-a-day-world, because our days are longer, or shorter, and society doesn’t allow for these differences en masse.  Such is the stuff of the workaday world, and part of the difficulty in participating in many of our given cultures.  Thanks to electricity, it’s easier to cope with insomnia and 36-hour days.

When I finally go to bed, lay my head on my pillow, and draw up the covers, I surrender to another death.  I die the death of that day.  I die the death of that day’s activities, and therefore, many of that day’s memories.  On some days, I’m thankful I don’t have to remember.  On other days, I’m afraid to close my eyes, for once closed, I’ll lose the words of my loved ones, the sideways glances that mean so much, the tears welling in their eyes, the laughter of a sweet memory or a funny joke, or the goodnight kiss of my husband.

As time would have it (time, that thing in which I no longer believe), I wake in the middle of the night, or in the early morning hours, to thoughts and voices of my past.  I wake to physical discomfort and emotional pain that is like nothing I want you to know.  Too many injuries.  Too many losses.  Too many mysteries.  I don’t want you to know.  I want you to be aware, though.  It can happen to you.  And, I’ll be awake in the middle of the night, when you write something you think no one will ever read on the Internet.  I’ll find it, and I’ll answer, just like so many others have commented here. 

Sometimes, I’m able to comfortably close my eyes  for the day, whether it lasted 24 hours, or 13, or 31, or 11.  For a few hours, I’ll fall into that deep sleep that gives me resolve, gives me restoration, and ultimately recovery.  Rarely, though, do I awake with relief. 

Song for the night:  I Don’t Wanna Miss a Thing, Aerosmith

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vo_0UXRY_rY&feature=PlayList&p=BBC927567972E908&index=79

~ by Linda on December 30, 2007.