Insomnia – My Old Friend

I sat up in my chair, a slight surge of energy surfacing from some unknown storage cell within.  Fighting off the relentless pull of slumber, I allowed myself a moment to find my bearings and send the message I had been typing moments earlier.  It was late, somewhere near 3:00 am, and I had once again begun to drift off at my keyboard.  What a sight I must be at these hours!

After sending the message I powered off my monitors and slowly stood.  I craned my neck to and fro, the dull ache in my back reminding me to sit up straighter next time.  As I moved away from my chair I took stock of my surroundings – this room seemed to be shrinking in size every day.  Lately I’ve spent most of my waking (and sleeping) hours in here, time spent at my desk on projects and work commitments far greater than when I had a “job” I left the house for.  Many days it was as though there were no end in sight to what I worked on, the endless list of changes and tweaks mocking me each time I closed the program.  Still, I know it can only get better after it’s been worse, so I look forward to the day of completion!

I took a few steps and approached my bed, all the while reminding myself that I really needed to clean at first opportunity.  In all fairness I use this space very frequently, but it needs attention just the same.  Sometimes in the wee hours of the morning I find myself wanting to clean everything in sight – almost as though the frustrations of the day will vanish with the dust and trash I eradicate from the flat surfaces in this space.

Looking around, I decided to reach for a pile of papers that desperately needed sorting.  Before my hand could reach it, however, I was overtaken by feelings of futility in my actions.  The hour was early, what could I really accomplish in the time it took me to tire again?  Could I really get anything done without launching a more extensive plan of attack against the forces of evil clutter that ran rampant in my bedroom?  The puzzled look on my face would have been a clear sign to anyone watching that an equally lengthy battle was being waged in my head.  After a few moments I decided the conquest would have to wait, so I changed clothes and pulled back my covers.

I set my alarm and clambered into bed, hoping that the incessant beeping of the annoying device would cause me to stir in a few hours.  Lately my zombie-like schedule has been disrupted by a maddening trend of oversleeping.  This always starts my day on a hard note, as I’d prefer to wake up earlier than needed rather than after my alarm has rung.  Either way it makes me tired, but that wears off once the evening arrives and I can truly wake up.  I wish I could express the torn state this leaves me in – while I am grateful for the time my brain gets to run free, I must confess I miss the insane pull of creativity at the late hours.  My motivation for many things live and die by that pull, and the last week or two has found me stripped of my drive thanks to an overcomplicated project.  It’s like losing contact with an old friend, in a way, you don’t realize how far apart you’ve been until you meet once more.

As I lay there waiting for the darkness to envelop me, I became slightly annoyed that my energy levels had reached a normal state once again.  It was time to switch gears, time for thoughts to trickle in from an uninterrupted source inspired by the events of the day.  Yet for some reason I could not quiet my mind, it just wasn’t time to sleep yet.  I considered the paradox of my situation and was puzzled at the odd likeness to a puppet bound by strings.  It was as though my subconscious had reached out and taken hold, the gou pai to my creative drive held tightly in its grasp.

Suddenly, I smiled.  What caused me to smile at that moment I am uncertain of, but the realization of my state moments later confirmed the emotional response.  It was late, somewhere near 3:00 am, and I not only had energy but was being forced to write most of this from my bed.  I was back.