photo by Patricia
A wind burst blew, a splatter of rain, thoughts of closing the windows, then quiet. But not my thoughts which begin to race over worries that don’t intrude so much in daytime.
When complaining about my nocturnal waking’s, Samuel says, “Wipe the slate clean.”
Tears come because it is as if he blames me too. As if I have control over a rat brain that rolls through in the night-time at will crushing any power over it at all.
“You don’t understand,” I lament at the check-out in the store, wondering if the cashier can see the tears leak out and roll down my cheeks even with my head down.
“In the middle of the night, I don’t have control. Worries take over and some nights it’s no use. I have to get up,” I said.
“Well, that’s how I do it. Maybe it’s different for you,” he said hardly convinced.
Another bat to beat myself with? I don’t believe it. I believe damage was done. That holding in trauma for decades has done a great deal of damage to all systems of my body. Samuel cannot understand, nor can another who does not deal with PTSD. Gentleness, understanding, and acceptance is needed, and can only come from within. Forgiveness too.
Because in the middle of the night, all my ‘crimes’ come back haunting me. No one but me can give what I need which is a forgiving nature. When applied to myself it then can bloom outward.
Laying there awake and rising, the clock said 3 AM. Oh, that is too early and back into the warm bed covering up sleep is waited for. But it takes an hour and half for my squirrel brain to calm down before sleep comes.
Awaking to a brilliant day without the sleepy hang-over from a sleep medication, nor over-eating in the middle the night because of feeling sorry for myself for having this problem, the day yawns ahead with its usual challenges… challenging enough without being over-tired.
Worries feel more manageable with energy for a reasonable inner discussion about which ones to try to work on, and which ones are out of my control. This is not something doable in the night. This is a condition to accept with more love and understanding than Samuel seems able to give. He takes his ability to sleep for granted.