Too many thoughts to sleep

Late the other night my daughter popped up on Skype and said "I thought old people went to bed early."  Sometimes.  Other times I'm up late playing stupid games on facebook or writing to you or reading what you've written.  Other nights we go to bed early because we couldn't sleep the night before.
This past weekend was emotionally draining.  I've had a medical issue for many years and it has gotten worse.  I went to my doctor and learned she was going to send me to a specialist, who will hopefully resolve the issue.  It is something I've lived with for many years, so not to worry, but annoying and worrisome all the same.
That led to a phone call which led to my heart overflowing and bubbling out of my mouth- some issues that have been very troubling, but I've not mentioned.  This led to an upsetting exchange of words.  I had to pull my car over and sit in a parking lot and finish crying before I could return to work.
On Saturday there was another upsetting phone  conversation which led to more tears.
On Sunday I decided I needed to visit, in person.
I thought I was o.k., which I often do, but once again, the tears overflowed.  Tears are soothing and healing but hours of conversation, filled with misunderstandings, hurtful memories dredged up, more hurtful words, working for resolution, trying to make one another understand how we felt was exhausting.  Certain words and phrases pierced my heart.  I called Doug on my way home and he said "well, you sound good."  I said "I think I've just cried all I can cry." 
I had a two hour drive back home.  The darkness was kind and comforting, soothing.  I fell into bed when I got home and curled into a ball, wanting to crawl into a hole. 
Yesterday at work, due to lack of sleep, my brain was on fire.  Sometimes being at work, it is nice.  People are cordial, detached, professional.  I threw myself into my tasks, focusing.  Jennifer and I went to lunch and just being with her cheered me. 
Last night, I asked Doug to go to the barn with me to haul out containers.  Containers I've saved filled with wonderful, precious memories.  As I pulled items from the containers, over and over I exclaimed "oh. my. gosh."  I sorted and laughed and told Doug stories of when each piece was worn or who had made it or bought it.
He leaned over and put his mouth close to my ear...
"this is just what you needed."

comfort brew for the wee hours

 

back in the day this was a legal pad and pen



my girl, Chelsea, beside me

what is this?

this box holds so many sweet memories

This morning, I turn to look at the alarm clock- after being awake for quite some time.  It reads 3:10 a.m.  I groan and get up, slipping my bare feet into my crocs.  I pull a hooded sweatshirt on over my nightgown and head out into the house.  I light a candle and put on some water for tea.  I turn up the heat, take dry clothes out of the dryer and put wet clothes into the dryer.  I start another load of laundry.  I let Chelsea out of her kennel, put my glasses on, zip up my sweatshirt and pull the hood up.  We head out into the frigid darkness.  The snow hasn't yet started to fall. 
I was supposed to see the specialist today, but called yesterday to reschedule.  You know you are getting old when you reschedule a medical appointment because of the threat of snow.  The appointment was set for 8:45 a.m. and I couldn't see us getting out and driving an hour north on bad roads.  Especially when I've let this thing go on for years. 
This past year has been one of growth and learning.  More so than other years.  For me, growth and learning doesn't come without a certain amount of pain.  As the gardener tells us, without pruning there is no fruit.  (I loved it in The Shack when Jesus was the gardener in overalls.)
Jennifer said something the other day about my blog being sweet or happy.  I thought "is it?"  Sometimes I joke that my blog is the life I wished I lived.  First of all, I am usually happy and positive.  Secondly, I can't stand negative, complaining people.  Who wants to hear that?  But this past year carried a certain amount of pain.  And now the new year is getting started with a certain amount of pain. 
But this new year holds the promise of a new chapter.  A new life.  A new member of the family.  A new role for me.  It is my turn to be wise sage and listening ear.  Fun.  Wonder.  Kisses.  Sweet smells and warm little body held in my arms.  Sleepy eyes that will gaze into mine and capture my heart. 
I have to write.  I have to express my thoughts and feelings. I have to write for me.  I love the blogging community, and the interaction we share, but I have to write for me.  The first two years I blogged (on another website) my blog was just a place to put my writing.  I wonder if I were imprisoned and they wouldn't allow me any pen or paper (or keyboard)...would I become as desperate as the Marquis de Sade did, writing with his blood and an improvised crude writing instrument?  I am constantly writing in my head and when I'm gone, my belongings will be littered with scaps and sheets of paper with thoughts I've written down.
I was told during the conversations this past weekend I was told that I am melodramatic.  When I look up this word it means exaggerated, sensationalized, over emotional, sentimental.  I am sentimental.  I hope I never lose that trait. I am thoughtful, feeling deeply.
It has become apparent in the past few years that during winter months I struggle with SADD which is the sunshine deficit disorder which causes depression.  For the past few years, I've taken a couple of different anti-depressants off and on.  Around mid-November, I felt the sadness creeping back in and started back on one of them.  This Christmas Eve was the first time in twenty-eight years, I wasn't with either of my children.  I got through it.  And once Christmas was over, I felt better.  Almost as soon as I had started taking the anti-depressant, I stopped taking it.  (Side-bar note:  if you've never taken anti-depressants, it is best to slowly wean yourself off of them.)
When on an anti-depressant, I feel muted and as if I don't experience life fully.  There are times that this isn't a bad thing.  But this next part of my life that I am about to enter into, I don't want to miss a thing.  I want to be fully aware and experience every moment completely. 
I want to tell you how much you mean to me.  This community of bloggers, those who comment and email.  I have met some of you.  I know some of you.  Some of you have become facebook friends.  Some of you I know I will meet in the future.  Thank you for telling me what you think, for caring, for encouraging, for being positive about what I write.  It means more than you know. And when I find that sleep evades me, it is good to have someone to talk to.