Lying awake at 3 am. My nose begins to run, not a cold, not allergies, Worry. I am worried about something, but I don’t really know what. I try to ignore it (impossible). I try to reach the tissues by the bed without opening my eyes (impossible).
My stomach rumbles. Hungry, yes, but also Worry. It is that strange feeling of maybe you over ate, maybe you have a sour stomach, maybe you want some food. Also impossible to ignore.
But lying next to me, rolling over to rub my back, and ask if I am okay, is my partner, my husband, my rock. Not judging or annoyed at being awoken. Just there, if and when I need him. He is there to hug, to listen, to hear.
Today, I am lucky. I am loved.
I am loved. I am important. I am worthy. I am me, and that is wonderful.
I do not fall back asleep, but run through my mind stopping at odd spots, like my first day of fifth grade, when I realized I was not something special. Or perhaps the beginning of anxiety in fourth grade when I did a presentation on Ireland, but the cassette tape had been put in the player with the wrong side up, and it didn’t play the wonderful Irish music to go with the Irish soda bread I had made the night before.
But at each turn and stop in my head, I know that it is okay. I am loved. I am lucky.
Tomorrow (really today) is a new day and I will try again. This is not my ‘normal’ middle of the night wake up. This is calm and contemplative. A bummer to not be asleep, but such a deep and profound sense of love and acceptance that I am almost brought to tears.