Insomnia, anyone?

I am so over this insomnia. Now I wish I could convince my body of that.

I ran my butt off at the gym today so that I could sleep like a rock tonight, and here it is, almost 3 am (4 am if you note the fact that we just "fell back" three hours ago), and I can't sleep. Frickin' workout. It should have made me sleepy; now I'm just really sore. And wide awake.

I used part of the time to read a novel for young adult literature, but that only ate up two hours (big print, wide margins). I'm going to go read for my other class. I really should jump ahead, since I have two midterms this week. But I'm at that awful point where studying goes in my eyes and out the back of my brain.

The thing is, I really am tired. But when I lie down to sleep, my brain decides it's going to triple its activity level and it feels like a freight train is running though the middle of my head as I lie there. I guess there's a lot on my mind, and I also guess (all right, I don't guess. I know.) that I don't have much of an outlet for it. So here I'm am, just stewing about it all.

St. John Vianney said once that God commands us to pray, but forbids us to worry. In a sense, I'm not really worried. Just pensive. So much so that it keeps me up at night.

Tender shepherd, you forgot to count your sheep

I suppose when your life gets turned upside down for a while, relative peace and bliss can feel really odd. The only contra of being glad that the bad stuff is over is that it makes worry that it'll come back, even when nothing's going wrong. It's like being afraid to sleep because you might have a nightmare.

As such, I've been awake since 4:30.

There's nothing going wrong. I keep telling myself that. My family is safe and secure, my friends are wonderful, open, loving, safe and health. And, frankly, so am I. What am I so damn scared of?

The problem with feeling this way is that I tend to shy away from things and people that I love. God forbid anyone get close enough to see what happens when it all hits the fan. I'm sorry if I haven't called or hung out with you, if you happen to be reading this. I'll be better soon. I promise.

On a semi-related note, it's been 18 months today. A year-and-a-half. Rest in peace, Kristin. Today I celebrate being in much better shape that I was 18, 12, and 6 months ago.