Staring into the darkness, I can make out some light coming from the sliders and the shadow of a tree. The moon is full, accenting the shadowy clouds with a glowing outline. I reposition myself to sleep, then open my eyes to stare at the wall. The dog is on the floor snoring, as I look at the clock. It says 4am. I want to sleep but it’s not coming. I fix the covers, roll over and make another attempt. Still nothing. 4:30am. Finally, I get out of bed and walk the house or start knitting. The night is lonely. This situation repeats itself for nearly a week as I crave the sweet comfort of sleep. What can it be?
I have no answers to this dilemma, except maybe it’s in that dark place that we often listen to. Don’t walk down that ally. Don’t get in a car with that person. A vessel that holds my fears, secrets, lies, sorrows, and occasional good advice. This anatomical entity is positioned to be unreachable to the naked mind. If I could easily access the residue that lives there, I could clean it out and leave the invaluable subtle intuitive relays. But, for now, it is a burial ground of churning sadness and disappointment causing exhausting consciousness. Breath, please sleep, breath. My gut is punishing me for hiding my emotions and leaving them there to die. But they don’t die.
The gut is a multi-tasker and can hold grief, doubts and anxiety as well as keep you regular. If filled with desultory sludge, it can hold enough weight to keep a person awake for weeks. My nocturnal issues are obviously the result of having “too much to think” and using a churning gut as repository for all things negative. I need to reach for help when I grieve and face my doubts and anxiety head on instead of taking big gulps to swallow them whole. I believe a spirited eviction of sympathies will bring me peace of mind and a full night sleep.
I am getting tired as I type this, bedtime quickly approaches. I’m still a little nervous that I won’t sleep. I finish my wine and stretch thinking about things I must get done tomorrow; slight anxiety. I will eradicate the anxiety tomorrow. But, for tonight, I finally understand that my gut is the culprit and I am committed to clean it out. I must create a strategy to release my buried feelings, relying mostly on the strength and tenderness of my own heart.
Good night. Sweet dreams.