There was a time, in my own recent history, where I struggled with insomnia. The insomnia was so bad, I considered myself fortunate to get 4 hours of sleep every other day. This was an invigorating time, perhaps due to the mania the lack of sleep manifested, however, in that moment I found inspiration and brilliance and beauty. I saw the world in a new way, embraced the quiet and stillness and felt that the hours had been created by a higher power for my own bidding. It was, in short, a happy time in an unhappy time.
I have often secretly longed for that gift during that last 2 years of relative normal slumber. I was, at least I believed myself to be, profoundly productive during this time. I cared for an infant, I ran a business, I wrote a book... It was a mediocre book perhaps, but that was clearly due to my skill as a writer instead of lack of creative inspiration and a compelling subject matter.
To my point... I have recently experienced a similar level or sleeplessness - in part due to the expected arrival of our new family member, (and the other family members, although I have less control over that than I do my own, and believe me that is not much). In that sleeplessness, I have found I have somehow lost my ability to be productive during the waning night hours. It is a sad loss, a mourned loss. Age, distraction, hormone imbalance.... the cause of said un-productivity is unclear, but all the same true. As such, I am restricted to listening to my internal jukebox, stuck on an unfortunate, albeit delightful little tune: "Zachary hated Bumblebees..." from an apparent overly used children's CD currently in the car's disc drive. (Note to self: remove CD from disc changer).
I have hopes that either the lack of sleep situation is soon resolved (unlikely) or I can regain the mid-night productivity of yesteryear. Even if it was only perceived productivity, at least it came with some sense or brilliance and accomplishment to balance the droopy eyelids and kink in my back.
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