Insomnia

It’s happens to all of us. In fact, friends and I talked about it at dinner last night. Maybe that’s what jinxed me. More likely it was the fact that I went to bed much earlier than usual. Ten o’clock, and I slept soundly until one. But then there I was, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. One friend had said the worst thing you can do is think about things. But how do you turn your mind off? I have never been able to meditate or focus on my mantra—do I have one?—for that reason. My mind is a busy little critter that darts hither and yon.

I discovered last night that thinking about our country’s current political situation, with what I see as a huge move toward a police state—federal executions to resume, ICE can stop anyone anywhere and demand identification—is not a pathway to sleep. (That new ruling, expanding ICE powers, reminds me of a man I knew who grew up in Columbia, had lived in the States for many years, and was still terrified to leave his home without his identification—this long before trump’s insane deportation policies.)

So I thought about the manuscript I’m working on and the passage I hoped to write today. Medium good. But my thoughts drifted. I thought about the things I want to cook this weekend, and my grandson due home from camp tomorrow, and the dinner with friends I’d just had. I thought about a forthcoming trip to New Mexico and whether or not altitude would affect my A Fib, although two doctors’ offices have assured me it will not. As you can see, some of these are comforting subjects and some are not.

Finally about five o’clock I drifted into a restless sleep and dreamt that my youngest son had misbehaved badly. Poor thing—as far as I know he’s been a model of good behavior. Well, most of the time.

A 6:45 Sophie wanted to go out, and after she came in, I thought about trying to sleep but I knew it was useless. Jordan had said we’d go to the grocery at 8:30, and I needed to be ready. When she came out, she took one look at me and asked, “What’s wrong?” It’s bad enough to feel out of kilter but knowing it’s obvious to someone who knows you well only makes it worse.

You know that saying often associated with Hillary Clinton? “But nonetheless, she persisted”? Well, that’s what I did. I soldiered on. Went to the grocery. Spent too long on the phone with the public library trying to sort out a web access problem, less time but still too much trying to sort out a Central Market order—I have to say in both cases the people on the other end of the line were charming, helpful, and kind. Wrote the passage stored in my mind, tried to make pesto and figured out my counter-size processor won’t do it, poached chicken breasts because I’ve decided that’s easier than de-boning a rotisseries chicken, ate a salmon pattie for dinner and wondered when I would remember that the ones I make at home are much better than the ones I get even from a sophisticated take-out counter.

Yeah, It wasn’t a bad day, but I sure would like to sleep soundly tonight. I hope each and every one of you sleep hard and have pleasant dreams tonight.