Dear Insomnia, please leave me alone.

I enjoy sleeping. But the most feared and dreaded part of my day is the part where I go to sleep. I know I'll be lying awake for hours, shifting and turning and forcing myself not to look at the clock to see how much time has passed. I hate these hours more than the exhaustion that slams me in the head when my alarm goes off the next morning and I've only had a few hours of sleep. I've never been the type to fall asleep before my head hits the pillow. I've always been the night owl- always the one up doing homework and organizing her room and taking care of projects that have no business being done that late at night/ early in the morning. It's because I can't sleep. 

So instead, I'll write. I've been lying on my back staring wide eyed into the darkness for three hours now... I've tried all the mind games. Closed my eyes and focused on my breathing, clearing my mind. I've counted backwards from 100... twice. I've relaxed every muscle in my body from my toes to my nose and the back down. I've shifted positions, tried the other end of the bed, and tried the couch. I've turned on the rainforest/ ocean/ harp music that is supposed to help. No luck chuck. So now I sit here eating frozen chocolate pudding, annoyed. 

Tangent: why is the puddling frozen, you ask? Because I love frozen things. Frozen pudding, frozen fruit roll ups, partially frozen juice, frozen graham crackers with vanilla frosting, frozen yogurt. This idea extends to more than just things I consume. I like frozen lakes, frozen winters, freezing temperatures, freezing cold bedrooms. End of tangent. 

I probably shouldn't be eating pudding at 2 in the morning but I was so mad at Life. I have my non-fat pudding cups precisely for these moments: the mad at Life moments. They remind me that if Life has given me chocolate pudding, then it can't all be bad. Puts things in to perspective. It takes a while to eat so I get more time to think about things like this. I've been mad at Life a little more than usual lately. It doesn't happen very often... I don't often get discouraged but just lately I've been feeling the pressure. Loneliness mostly. I like people. I need people. Sometimes there aren't enough of them around. But then again, I always have my frozen chocolate pudding.

I was just reading a few things by my friend Cary. Man, what a writer. She harnesses words in an incredible way. I read Ann Marie's emails voraciously.  The descriptions she can pull out of every day occurrences stun me. Deja has an ability to express human emotion is honest and touching. EmBun talks about the miracles of life so beautifully that I've been known to quote her in conversations. Bob's clever puns and overall wittiness inspire me to look at life differently, looking for the humor.  Annie's posts about Swedish pop stars and pouches absolutely kill me. Anything Mel writes makes me marvel, then laugh, then marvel again. Steve just sounds plain smart, like an Ivy Leaguer should. I've realized lately that in my years pushing towards my college degree and my 18 month hiatus from school, I have neglected my own writing. I used to consider myself a writer. I always had numerous projects going on at one time and would constantly be thinking of more. In a way, having a blog has filled part of that void, but tonight I realized that it hasn't filled all of it. I miss sitting in the library studying people and instead of studying my books. I miss making up stories in my head when I'm driving. I miss that. Tonight I've realized I need to start writing again. Not for the public, not for family and friends, just for myself. 

I don't know why these realizations need to come at such a wretched hour, but I'll take what I can get. 

Back to Insomnia. I have an appointment with my doctor to talk about it. It gets worse during times of stress... maybe because I deal with stress differently that normal people. Normal people get stressed. I don't do that. I don't like to. Instead I make lists in my head as I lie awake at night. 

My mom and I signed up for a bike race. Never done one of those before. For the last month or so, I've been going three or four times a week to spinning classes at my gym. They are a new favorite in my life. They make me feel great. Perhaps biking will become my new hobby. I need a hobby.  The race is in June just a few days after my sister leaves to go on her mission. Have I mentioned how jealous I am of her yet? 

I get to hold my new nephew in less than three months. I finished his blanket this last weekend. I crocheted it out of soft blue, green, and white yarn. He's going to be my favorite. I'm so excited. 

I need a change. I'm feeling antsy. I need to move or start something new or get a haircut or something. Well, maybe not the haircut. I think the thing I want more than anything is for this semester to be over because that means basically the end of homework as I know it (at least for a long while) and it means summer hiking season is near and it means road trips with my mom and sister and it means I can move and I can go visit my family in Salt Lake more and it means I can start working full time again. 

I need to remind myself. Life can surprise you. He's good at surprises. When you least expect it, something huge is places right in your lap. For example, I have been wanting to go back to Italy for so long. I promised myself that if I could save up enough money by the end of the year, I was going to reward myself with a trip back to the place that still holds a huge piece of my heart. Randomly and unexpectedly I got a call from my Dad saying that Life had decided to fund my trip to Italy via a hefty tax return. I'm grateful for Someone bigger than me, better than me, and more knowledgeable that me who gives me exactly what I need exactly when I need it and doesn't ask for anything in return besides my love. And I love Him dearly. Man, He's good. 

I just wish He'd help me fall asleep.

To end on a good note, can I just share a quick moment of triumph without seeming pretentious? I got a letter from one of my missionaries that made my month. He's companions with another one of my favorite missionaries down in Southern Italy. They were having a rough day full of rejection and they only had forty minutes left to proselyte. They sat down to rest and both of them were justifiably discouraged and down. The older of the two suggested they just head home. The younger of the two said "Just one second," and he pulled a tattered piece of paper out of his pocket and opened it, reading it out loud to his companion. When he finished, he and his companion looked at each other with a smile, shook hands, said a quick prayer, and began to sprint from door to door. They were let into the last door they knocked on by a couple and their young son. They taught a short lesson and promised to return the next day. He said they left the housing feeling like they were on cloud nine. He said at the very end, "Sorella Jones, the paper I read to him was a letter you sent me several months ago. Thought you should know that you're still working miracles in Italy." Made me cry.   

I love that more than frozen chocolate pudding.