Some nights – too many nights – I find myself so insanely weary, so ridiculously bone tired from life and days & days of being awake too late, and so sleepy I can almost hardly walk up to bed. And often I will wonder why; why don’t I just go to sleep? Why am I sitting around miserably tired instead of just simply walking up to the big mattress in my bedroom?
On occasion it will quietly occur to me that it’s because I’m waiting; waiting for my best friend with tousled brown curly hair and bleary blinking blue eyes to show up in the door of my office room and say kindly but commandingly “come to bed”!
But she’s never going to do that. She’s gone. And I feel like I’m waiting waiting waiting for so many things that I know will never happen. I wait for her. I wait for someone else to please show up in my life. I wait for the super hateful voices in my head to shut the hell up.
Tomorrow (Wednesday) is our “diagnosis day” anniversary. I’m still waiting for that to turn out differently. Waiting.
And meanwhile, I don’t sleep enough.