The Insomniatic Severity of a Nighttime Thought Attack

I never in my life have been so confused, so muddled, so bizarrely ridiculously exhausted by a stupid desire as the one you have thrust upon me.

I laid in bed for nearly two hours subsequent to reading two chapters of my New Moon book before realizing I was not going to fall asleep in enough time to get a reasonable amount of slumber. There were only four more hours left until I had to wake up and begin my eleven hour day with Owen. Owen, the sweet, fitful, and above all, loud eight month old that I had agreed to baby-sit two to three days a week, frankly, for the price of a peanut.

But too many thoughts were screaming disorganized and hazed through my head and they wouldn’t be quiet! I did not even ask so much as to mute them, but I wished I could just turn the volume down enough so that they would become a low hum or murmur, and not this terrible screeching noise far too piercing to ignore.
I was lying in bed, crushed, crying, having a severe thought-attack. I tried everything to make it go away. I tried to run my fingers through my hair and gently over my face. That usually soothed me during a panic episode. But this was not a panic. It was much more inescapable.

I cried. I tried to plump and flip my pillows. I laid my head on the foot-side of the bed. I tried to think about Twilight, my newest area of interest, tried to imagine the velvet voice of Edward Cullen. Mmm. That only made me think more. I muted the TV. My thoughts became louder. I tried to listen to Tilsley, my muse, my teacher, my high school mentor. I tried to find his voice and imagine he was there. I tried to remember the words he used when he would tried to calm me down from a panic episode. I could hear him, faintly, amongst the bustle of memories, worries, and concerns fist-fighting in my mind.

“Turn it off. Stop listening to all that garbage and go to sleep.”
I tried to obey his aged, wooden words, but hearing them was hard enough. I wished stupidly that I could act on his wisdom.
He scolded me with love, as he tried to help me from becoming overwhelmed in thought-overload. But I couldn’t gain control over it.
“Just let the thought pass through. It‘s okay if it comes in, but don’t let it fix itself a drink and make itself at home in your mind. Simply tell it to walk on through.”
Bills and money problems laughed at me at the highest point in my head. Owen’s cry echoed and seared into my ears. Texas Roadhouse lit a cigarette and made itself comfortable, reminding me that I would be seeing very much of it in the next week.
“Come on Gallo. Do you control your issues or do they control you?”
My ex boyfriend whacked my head into a window and spit at me.
“Grow a backbone.”
Paul insisted that we were wrong for each other. That we weren't happy.
“Try to find a peaceful place.”

I sought out frantically in my mind, trying to find some place serene, some place where they couldn’t get to me. I searched. I trudged. I hollered…
But I could not find it. The thoughts jumped at me left and right. They pulled me by my every limb, blindfolded me and clasped their hands over my mouth so I could not even call for the place to find me. In my tortured frustration, I sat up, in a quick but heavy breath. I looked around and the noise was gone. I knew I had to get up to keep it away.

I decided not to shower just yet. I didn’t want too feel to clean and comfortable. I was afraid that would make me tired and it this point, it was useless to sleep. I decided to get into the frumpiest things I could find, whatever felt good on my body. I pulled my hair into a low ugly pony tail. My ears stuck out and my face was pale and washed out, dirty with the combination of old make-up, dried sweat, and fresh tears. I grimaced into the mirror. I was atrocious.

I fixed myself an icy water in my favorite stubby bulb glass and tucked my laptop underneath my arm. I nuzzled myself at the end of the couch, in between the plush and giving cushions and logged into my computer. The clock on my screen read 2:30 exactly. I knew it would not be hard for someone like me to pass 3 and a half hours without much struggle. I go through time like fish go through water…unfortunately.

I spent the time doing nothing to solve a single problem, doing no research, no damage control of any kind. I spent my time writing and finding new music. Relaxation. Eventually, I got the idea to make a ‘Twilight Playlist” on my iPod. I did a search and found every song that was played in the movies, Twilight and in New Moon. Listening to each song not only brought me right back to the scenes that the songs were played in, but I listened to them so much that they began to remind me of my own life. I listened to how each composition intertwined with my insides, how it related to me. I downloaded almost 40 songs and sat peaceful in my Heaven, smiling inside at the sound of the music. I wondered why I hadn’t loved these songs before. I enjoyed myself in a guilty kind of pleasure.

Before I knew it, 5:30 peeked in and knocked on the outer edge of the door.
“May I interrupt?” he solicited.
“I suppose” I retorted, slightly displeased, not that so much time had passed, but that I had to be grasped from the short rapport I had found with my inner self.

I crept into the bedroom, gulped at the flat, tasteless water I had left next to the bed, and slipped into the bathroom. I pulled out a crisp towel, and grinned far too wide when I realized that I could finally use my new robe that Grandma had sent! It was clean white (and I knew it wouldn’t be in the next month), with a pink stripe going down the side vertically. ‘Natalia’ read horizontally at the top in a matching color. She bought me the robe for Christmas, but took it back so she could get my name stitched on it. It was worth the wait.

My shower was a blissful Heaven, entirely uninterrupted, be it from cold water, knocks on the door, pestering thoughts, beeping text messages, or even the time. To my most gracious surprise, nothing tried to intervene. I was in a heated, idyllic wrinkle in time. Nothing was in my head. I showered a warm, perfect shower, listening to my newly added songs from the bathroom speakers.

I got the scheduled 6:10 am call from April, the one she made every morning to assure herself that I was awake, and I wasn’t sometimes.
“Hey sunshine! It’s me.”
“Hey April. No worries, I’m awake--” still.

April arrived at the exact time she always did: 6:21 am, and always “running late”.

I was almost in pain from the cold I felt as she entered my house from the brisk outside. The 22 degree weather made for a wretched disappointment in my attempt of escaping the cold Denver brisk through my decision to move to the Sunshine State.

She seemed slightly surprised at my wide awake appearance; showered with light make up, smelling fresh and my hair still wet.
“Ah, you look awake today.” The same awake from yesterday.
“Yeah, I am” I replied, accordingly with a smile.
“You took a quick shower this morning?” she prodded.
“Actually, it was a long one. Really relaxing. I’ve--been up..” all night.
She smiled, seemingly pleased. The idea that I was adjusting to this lifestyle was probably a relief in her mind, as we had discussed that my sleep schedule may be off enough to prevent me from watching Owen several times a week.

We chatted, today a little less awkward than normal. I genuinely was wide awake, perhaps that had an effect on my morning social abilities. Owen seemed especially cute today, dressed entirely in white and with a smile. I knew by the end of the day, he would look a disaster and probably be screaming.

When April left, I played with Owen so he would not realize she was gone. He was more cooperative than usual. He was giggly, happy, --hungrier than I’d ever seen-- and a pleasant company to have with me amidst my rather peaceful morning..

I dreaded the sun coming out, and it was trying to rise. It was a slow rise. The sun didn’t sneak in between my blinds for what seemed like almost an hour posterior to my seeing a shade of light in the sky. It was beautiful, but I despised sunrise.

Because when the sun was gone, life was better. Everything went to sleep and I stayed awake and made everything right in the world. In my world.

I logged into Facebook and played around, pointlessly, as my witty, blog-worthy, not to mention nocturnal thoughts tucked themselves into bed and bid me “Good day,” warning me not be sad and assuring me they would see me sometime past midnight. I fiddle-faddled and decided to check my horoscope.

It said that I should be excited to welcome my distant family back into my life and read that 8:00 am would be a “lucky” time of day for me. Just as I read it, I glanced at the clock on my screen. 8:01. I looked around. Owen was asleep on the floor and the sun was up now. Bed time.