Sleeping Around

As most of you know, I've been relying on the kindness of various people to not let me sleep alone. Since the time Cindy went into the hospital, I've been crashing in friend's guestrooms, sleeping on their floors, or having actual bodies sleep in my own guestroom bed with me.

At first, I couldn't help but feel like a burden to folks. I was uncomfortable with the idea that I was disrupting people's normal sleep rituals. I hope people know this was a survival mechanism on my part. I was so afraid of being alone at night because nights have this sneaky way of seeming eternal, foreboding, and unchanging. I thought that if I was with someone who needed to go to work, feed their kid, or walk their dog that I would be safe from the night lasting forever. If I was with those types of people, then, without a doubt, the day would have to appear eventually because they'd have to do their normal routines, right? As long as I believed in this, I could survive the night and not get led into despondency.

Last night I forced myself to sleep completely alone in my house for the first time. I'd like to tell you that it was easy. I'd like to tell you that I didn't have the TV on, the radio on, and every light on in the house at the same time. I'd especially like to not mention that at many points I pleaded with Cindy to come back and even offered to switch places with her. And I wish I'd never have to divulge that at one low point I started talking to the cat in the offchance Mr. Kitty was reincarnated as Cindy.

I can't really explain all this, but it goes back to taking everything literally and needing to believe in something bigger than yourself. Before all this, I was a pessimist and a cynic. But now, if you had a hidden camera in my house, you'd see that I am staring at pennies and hoping for them to move across the desk like Patrick Swayze did in Ghost.

But the pennies never move. The cat never talks back. And I am still here on Earth and gearing up for night #2 alone.

Posted with LifeCast