Compost Studios

My kids have been out of school since December 20, and without their schedule keeping me on the straight and narrow, my biorhythm easily re-set itself for late nights and late mornings. Sleeping for nine or more hours wrapped in a cocoon of flannel and fleece has been the perfect way to cope with the endlessly grey winter days we’ve been facing.

The last few nights I’ve been falling into a deep sleep and then waking in the middle of the night, listening to the wind whine and the bells on the village clock tower mark the hours. The black hole of sleeplessness sucks every anxiety up to my consciousness and sets them swirling in a vortex of worry. Tumbling through this morass of uncertainty, I eventually hit bottom just before dawn and slip back into sleep like someone who has succumbed to a poison dart.

Hours later, crinkled and creased like my pajamas, I get up, wash my face, wet down my wild hair, and ease into the day wrapped in a big fluffy robe and clutching a stout mug of English Breakfast tea. The kids know not to talk to me until I’ve been awake for an hour, and often I don’t get dressed until lunch time when I tackle household chores or slip off into the blogosphere. After dinner, I get a second wind, chugging through art projects, reading, or watching movies until close to midnight. Life’s been good, even with the occasional bouts of sleeplessness percolating in the background.

But tomorrow my day will start before the sun is up. If insomnia pays me a visit, there will be no reprieve. I may be tossing and turning right up until the moment the alarm drives me out of bed at 6:30 a.m. I’ll be faking a state of full consciousness as I make breakfast, pack lunches, and step out into the dark to walk the kids to the bus stop, gravity pulling at my limbs, my feet leaden. No it won't get better as the week progresses, it will only get worse.

Sure it will be good to once again have time and space to myself, but tomorrow morning I’ll be anything but happy as sleep calls me back to bed like a persistent lover. Sorry babe, it's over. Oh the end of the affair! It was good while it lasted.

January 7, 2007