“I believe in Christ like I believe in the sun– not because I can see it, but because by it I can see everything else.” — C.S. Lewis
Archive for April, 2012|Monthly archive page
Sleep is a long lost friend. The past few mornings I’ve been waking up long before my alarm starts beeping in my ear. And now, I lay awake, fretting over what tomorrow may bring. But all my fretting will not change tomorrow’s outcome or make tomorrow come any faster. There are still sixty seconds in a minute, sixty minutes in an hour, and twenty-four hours in a day. The only thing that could make tomorrow arrive more quickly is sleep, the one thing that eludes me. I am tired, yet my brain spins faster whenever I close my eyes. I tell myself not to worry. I have confidence that everything will be alright. I worry little until my head hits the pillow, then my mind explodes with thought. I cease to be able to rationalize my worries away and my conscious mind must relinquish it’s defenses in order to slip into subconscious sleep. Questions rack my brain. Where will I get flowers? What is the best way to hold Eggs Benedict to ensure that the eggs are fully, but not over cooked? What time should the Hollandaise be prepared? Is there enough time to make another batched of crystallized ginger to replace the one that got botched today? Why are some of my classmates unable to follow instruction? Oops, I forgot to pick up stickers to mark plates with dietary restrictions. Now how will I deal with that? Questions, questions, and more questions.
The pot is about to boil and I should take it from the heat before it starts to whistle. It’s nearly midnight, after all. It would hardly be polite for me to wake those to whom slumber is a friend.
What would life look like if we were all honest with each other? What would life look like if we were all gracious with each other? What would life look like if we could combine those two concepts?
My sentence to my housemates might read, “It frustrated me when I feel I have to eat my breakfast in my room because the kitchen and dining room tables are littered with dirty dishes, clothing, and bags.” Or ” It frustrates me when I don’t wake to my alarm in the morning, but to your exasperated tones as you talk to your daughter in a very loud voice..”Or “It frustrates me that my only way to escape in this house is to watch TV on my laptop. Only with my headphones on do I feel that I can get any time alone.” Even as I type that I am aware of the fact that I am currently sitting on a sunlit sofa on the main floor, which is completely devoid of people. I suppose it’s really the evenings that cause me grief. Even more than the people I live with, my sluggishness in the evenings can probably be attributed to not knowing what to do with myself. It seems like the only things I ever do at home are eat, clean, and watch TV on my laptop. If my life were a movie, it would be a very boring one. Even as I write this, I know it’s true. Even as I write this, I’m aware of how far I’ve fallen from the life I had, not even a year ago. What happened to the woman who loved to bike, who loved to learn new skills, who devoured novels, went for runs, enjoyed walks along the lake, took part in social meetups, went to ballets, galleries, and museums? What happened to her? Is she hiding? I certainly hope she’s not gone. Physically she is gone, but I’m hopping the skinny chick will emerge again, truimphat and ready to take her place in the world again. Sadly, now I feel the pudge in my chin and the developing roll of fat around my midsection. My bras pinch against the extra flesh that has developed. It’s not a pretty feeling.
Sometimes it’s hard to be gracious. What is a word for someone who drives you nuts? For someone you wish would just go away? You don’t hate them, but you really find them aggravating to the extreme. Sometimes you just want to yell at them to shut-up or stop what they’re doing. You can’t because that would be a social faux pas, but it would give you no greater pleasure then to tell them to go away and leave you alone. I don’t think of myself as a cruel person, but there is a monster inside of me some days. Most days. Okay, all days. And that little monster can be downright mean. And so I bite my tongue. But all the while I think, “get me out of here. I’m done with this place.”