My life is busy. I realize now how great of a thing that is.
3:45AM I woke up to the silence of our home. I found no comfort in my own bed, or in noises that I’ve heard for the past four years of our residence here…instead within moments of waking I was hysterical. I tried to cry softly, but without any luck, the waves of emotion thundered through my chest as I sobbed into my pillow.
“Honey! What’s wrong” Therman whispered. Therman is a sound sleeper, so I obviously did not do a good job at muffling my sorrow. “I’m just sad” I responded, in the same way we teach our four year olds at school. He scooted closer and tried to comfort me, but I couldn’t even find comfort in that.
I don’t know why I was sad. Maybe it was Uncle Larry’s passing, or the fact that the only person left now that I’ll lose on that side of the family is my own daddy. Maybe it was relief from getting the home refinanced, so that we can keep it. Maybe it was relief that mom and dad bought their house, after all that hassle with the title work and the inspections going wrong. Or, maybe it’s that they did buy that house and will soon move from the one place I’ve always felt safe. Maybe it’s that I miss my kids every single day and when I get home, instead of playing with them, there are other things that have to be done, rendering me failure to my own offspring.
Maybe nothing was wrong at all and I just needed a good cry.
Needless to say, the still quiet of the night is not my friend. Thinking isn’t good for me, it leads me into thought and analysis too powerful for my own good. I find myself becomming like many, too busy to feel anything. Eventually it piles up like dirty laundry and unfortunatly you can’t just shut the door to ignore the emotions.
I finally fell into a peaceful sleep at 5.