Thursday, 23 August 2007
Towards St Clair from St Kilda
I woke up last night (or more aptly, early this morning) and couldn't get back to sleep. From 1.30 a.m. to 4.00 a.m. I was kept awake by thoughts of why I wasn't enjoying work, and why I wasn't writing - knowing full well that the two things are linked.
I decided I wasn't taking a pro-active enough approach. Lately my life-attack skills have been lacking in oomph. I resolved to once more take on my more characteristic resilient approach. Then I went back to sleep.
Close-up of oyster shell
In the morning, I woke up knowing that any shortfall in my sleep tally was going to be more than made up for by the new resolution I now felt. I was also counting on using up some of that positive, mental energy I'd managed to store while lying there planning in the dark.
As a consequence, work today was enjoyable. All it took was my sleep broken in the middle, and a lot of angst in the early hours.
All it took was remembering who I was and why I am here at all. These are the things I thought about in the dead of the night as I listened to the wind soughing in the big pines at the back of our house. As I heard the rain and small twigs and cones dropping on to our corrugated iron roof.
The big thoughts you have in the middle of the night as panic is slowly replaced by purpose.
Cat lying on concrete path
In the morning I felt like I had been round and round and out the other side.
Tonight however, I need my bed to stop acting like a psychiatrist's couch. Tonight I just want to sleep.