2:13 am therapy

The room is dark and the dogs are cuddled in between us, periodically growling and fighting for space in the full size bed, it is -2 outside and the world is frozen in time, much like we have been since March 2020. It is 2:13 and I am unable to sleep, again.

Far too much going on in the world. Or not enough going on in the world depending whose brain you are inside. This may be a babbling blog, just a way to get things out and somehow talk things through to a a solution viable enough to return to sleep. Apparently, I have become my own therapist. Handy and cost effective.

So I make some tea and grab a couple of biscuits from the tin and sit down to work through the things on my heart and mind. This world that we live in creates so much turmoil in our lives. Here in the Midwest (and anywhere else in the frozen north) we are currently deep in the throes of February, in many ways the worst month of the year, for those with cabin fever. It is the ultimate lockdown month. It’s frigid, frozen and seemingly unmovable. February makes us long for spring yet cruelly reminding us she is not done with us.

Sports are over and there is nothing until baseball starts (at least in this house) and it’s hard to find motivation to even start the car because now we do everything at home. I often hear my step-dad Harley and he makes me get up and start my car, and make sure it is filled with gas.

So the cold winter lockdown can bring out the demons in the best of us. Myself, I embrace them and welcome them inside, a free therapy session waits. Being a person who has always been intrigued by what makes one tick and and believing that even demons have some type of innate goodness, it’s just peeling back that onion to find it. That’s where my rationalization comes in. I want to ask those demons a question or two. Help them understand why there isn’t room for us both to be vocal in my house. I wouldn’t kick them out, but might ask them to sit quietly in the corner. I am not heartless, maybe they just need a place to crash.

February brings them out with a vengeance for some. Too much time to think and worry. Which is why I am never idle. If I slow down they might catch me. If I keep moving, they can’t take up residence and I get to spring first.

I mean isn’t that what it’s all about, who sees the first bud on the tree?

So now that I have sorted out the month of February and how we can live harmoniously in one world, until the spring thaw, let me tackle all the other reasons why I am wide awake at 2:38 am.

Technology, Facebook, Instagram, twitter(ish), endless streaming options, the search for fulfillment, the need for travel, the worry for family, the love of the quiet, the need to write. The tip of the iceberg.

Shall we delve into just a few tonight or fix them all at once? Technology is the devil in streaming. It has benefits that you literally are never alone, you can be awake at anytime and find someone to chat with or fight with depending on your personal preference. You can watch a movie (remember a time when the TV stations actually signed off?). We live in a technology driven Vegas because technology never sleeps. And that’s a bad thing, because we all know what happens when we don’t sleep. Our brains don’t work quite right, and could possibly derail. And that is what happens in the wee hours of the morning, the thoughts of genius (my best writing) or a runaway train of thoughts and fears. Tonight is a little of both.

The TV blasts COVID woes 24/7, seems like never any positivity and if there is it will be dissected until we are only left with worry, which is possibly the goal. Others would argue that it is education and the more you know the better armed you are to fight the demon. I don’t disagree, but would an occasional snippet of hope hurt anyone? I guess its the relentless optimist in me but I read 24 new cases and think “that’s not bad at all, there is hope” only to have the news station inform me that it’s an uptick the day before was 20. Always stealing my joy and trying to squash my optimism.

But you cannot defeat me as long as there is hope. Because hope is what you have left when you open Pandora’s box and if this isn’t Pandora personified I don’t know what is. The box was opened and some days all we have left is hope so grab it and hold on tight. It may be the path of least resistance.

But all is not dismal in the wee hours of the morning, the quiet is embracing and revitalizing. Whenever I am awakened and can’t return to sleep, I walk softly out of the bedroom and pull the door shut, which always makes a godawful sound because I live in an old house with ill-fitting doors. Then I walk softly to the kitchen and peer out the back windows, which are also ill-fitted and therefore we can chill wine on the window sill inside the house often referred to as “charm” in the real estate world. I choose to only have a valance in the windows as I love to look out over my sleeping neighborhood at 3:00 am and see what’s going on. Usually, it’s nothing. But I take some pleasure in seeing the chimney’s working overtime and keeping everyone warm. I look over my yard and ponder the random tracks that sometimes appear, is it one of our deer friends from the nearby woods or perhaps a person out for a stroll using my yard as a short cut to somewhere? None the less, something satisfying about a sleeping community and the quiet of frozen snow covered ground, the moon reflecting off the white stillness.

The stark coldness of the window panes accompanied by the wind both outside and inside the house is oddly comforting. The furnace struggling to keep the house at a livable temperature and being grateful for two velcro dogs to keep me warm, that along with a heated mattress cover that I simply adore.

As a matter of fact it is beckoning me from the other room. it might be time to sleep again, now that my self imposed therapy session is complete. Please pay at the window on your way out.

Until next time,