Stillness is the Hardest Part of My Day

I haven't been sleeping.  

Not well, I mean.  I get a few hours here and there, but not enough to feel fully functional the next day.  I only fall asleep when my mind finally stops out of pure exhaustion, not because my thoughts stop.  Has that ever happened to you?  Your mind keeps running and running and won't turn off until your body physically can't keep you awake anymore.  

Last night,  I headed upstairs after 11 and, even though I knew I shouldn't, I kept looking at the clock: 

12:14.  

12:52.  

1:17.  

1:43.

2:38.  

2:38 was the last time I remember seeing...

...until 3:03 when my son yelled for me to walk him to the bathroom.  He gets scared at night -- even with the night lights.  (I can't blame him.  I hate the dark, too.)

When I got back in bed, the whole cycle started over again.  I said to my husband earlier in the night that I try not to think and worry about everything, but the only time I'm still all day is when I get in bed.  

And it's that stillness I avoid.  All.  Day.  Long.  

Stillness brings with it all that uninterrupted time for my innermost thoughts to surface.  Stillness makes me think and rethink and try to process and rewind and fast forward.  It's not easy to turn your brain off when it's on such a roll. 

But when I'm alone with my innermost thoughts, I get sad.  Really sad.  So sad that I can't sleep, and then the clock-watching begins.    

I feel guilty when I shift my thoughts to other things that help me relax, things like lying on the beach, soaking up the sun.  I try to get myself in a state of mind where my body and mind can relax.  But then the feelings of guilt start.  I feel like my thoughts should be with my dog and my grandmother right now.

* * * * *

Before my Nana was moved into hospice, I remember the doctor at the hospital saying that she was actively dying. 

Actively dying.  Actively dying.  What does that even mean?  

Technically, we're all actively dying.  

Is that morbid or what?

It's kind of like that half full/half empty glass thing.  Are we actively dying, or actively living?

It's all about perspective.

But perspective is a hard thing to have when you feel like time isn't on your side.  When you feel like you're just waiting for that dreaded phone call.  When you feel like today is the last day you may spend with your loved one.

I know so many people go through loss, but that doesn't mean this isn't difficult.  It's all difficult.  Life is hard.