Up at 3am

This time of year frustrates me. 

I like to sleep. I want to sleep. It’s my escape. The only time I don’t overthink myself to death. The thinking is what exhausts me in the first place. 

I’m a weighted, blanketed, under layer of bedding kind of girl. I can’t sleep just under a sheet or, gasp, uncovered completely. I find comfort in the protection heavy blankets provide me. 

In between spring and summer and summer and fall I’m in misery for a few weeks. The temperature varies too much for the air conditioning or heat to run all night. So I’m in limbo. 

I risk waking to close a window if I go to bed with one open and the temperature drops.

I’m not alone in the house. I have to think of the others. And it’s pretty miserable warming up in the morning when you need to be somewhere. 

I’ve shed the comforter, the quilt, I had to finally get up and go to the couch when the sheet was still too hot.

I can’t anyway. I got to thinking of how I never watch much adult TV anymore. This is when I should. 

I began watching “Fleabag” Saturday while the boys were supposed to be napping. I found the lead character a little too like myself. Didn’t want to start that. 

I’ve seen previews of “I Love Dick” on Facebook. I searched and searched and found it on Amazon. Kathryn Hahn. Kevin Bacon. 

4:20 a silhouette appears, luckily after the first sex scene. It’s Jackson.

“Is it 6 yet? Time to get up?”

I turn off the TV and we go back our beds.

I break down and open a window in my bedroom. 

This show may resonate too much for me.

I’m lonely. I’m out of place and going out of my mind. 

I don’t fit here. You want to hear that I’m happy. I’d like to be able to tell you life is a but a dream, sweetheart.

But I’d be lying. And I cannot lie uncovered, without weight. So I hide, cower, pretend. I tell people what they want to hear here. I’m fine. I’m happy. Yes, I know how blessed I am.

Would you like to know my thoughts on God? No. I can’t speak of such things here. Better to retreat to my bed. Cover up and stop thinking.

About bourbonbreathmom

No words can describe me;)
This entry was posted in addiction, anxiety, depression, lonely, Single mom. Bookmark the permalink.

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