Sleep.
Sleep. Something I crave. Something I no longer have the real luxury of. When I was younger I could sleep as an Olympic sport, now it evades me. Every night I crawl in to bed beside my Morier, curling in to his warmth, wanting nothing more than to fall asleep next to him. We read for a little while then turn the lights out, snuggling deeper under the warm duvet, and I listen to his breathing slow down as he drifts off. I lie there, unable to sleep even with the medication, trying to keep my eyes closed and let sleep take over. My eyes keep opening and I stare around the dark room, knowing all of it's shadowed corners by heart. My mind keeps ticking over, crossing off things I've done, things I need to do are added to the list, hopes and dreams and aspirations rush by in the darkness. My eyes close and they seem to try and roll back in my head, as if trying to see whats in there and sort through the mess that resides inside my skull.
Then I hear what I'm waiting for. A quiet thump, a rustle, perhaps a door opening. Every single noise brings me further away from sleep. I'm waiting for Boy to get up and start wandering around the house. Wondering what he will do, what he will take, next. I hear his door open then I hear the bathroom door shut. I count in my head for a few minutes waiting for the return journey to happen and for me to hear him get back in to his bed. 1am now and I'm still listening. He's turning over and over in his bed and I'm waiting for him to get up again. 2am and the exhaustion is setting in. I desperately want to sleep and finally begin to drift off, still listening for any noise, trying to bury my head under the covers. 2.30am and I'm finally asleep. Part of me is still on alert though and I wake when I hear his bedroom door open again, another bathroom trip, another 20 minutes to get back to sleep. At 7.15am I'm awake to get the children ready and off to school. 3 children all fighting and bickering, trying to get breakfasts and packed lunches ready, finding lost shoes and books needed for school. I cling to a cup of strong coffee trying to wake myself up enough to start my day and be a functional person.
3pm and it's time to get Boy from school. The walk is good for me but I can feel myself beginning to wilt. I'm home again by 4pm and so is Morier. I'm exhausted now and need to rest. The dinner needs to be made and chores still need doing but I'm out of energy, both physical and emotional. I lie on the sofa and curl under a blanket. The cats snuggle in beside me and purr softly as if trying to heal the broken parts of my body. I feel acute guilt as I lie down though, I want to be talking to Morier and sitting next to him, I don't want to be this useless and tired creature that has to have a nap like an old woman. So I don't sleep. I doze but I'm still alert to the things that happen around me. I hear the kids come and go in to the lounge, Moriers chair creaking and his keyboard as he types, the fish tanks bubble away in the background. I know it's safe to sleep now, Morier is home and he is the alert one, but still I can't.
11pm, bed time for us both and the start of the cycle once more. This has been my life now for months. I'm loosing interest in food, I live on coffee and cigarettes. I'm snappy and tense, in pain all the time from the lack of rest and the arthritis. I wonder if I will ever be able to sleep properly again. I wonder how long it will take until I burn out.
Then I hear what I'm waiting for. A quiet thump, a rustle, perhaps a door opening. Every single noise brings me further away from sleep. I'm waiting for Boy to get up and start wandering around the house. Wondering what he will do, what he will take, next. I hear his door open then I hear the bathroom door shut. I count in my head for a few minutes waiting for the return journey to happen and for me to hear him get back in to his bed. 1am now and I'm still listening. He's turning over and over in his bed and I'm waiting for him to get up again. 2am and the exhaustion is setting in. I desperately want to sleep and finally begin to drift off, still listening for any noise, trying to bury my head under the covers. 2.30am and I'm finally asleep. Part of me is still on alert though and I wake when I hear his bedroom door open again, another bathroom trip, another 20 minutes to get back to sleep. At 7.15am I'm awake to get the children ready and off to school. 3 children all fighting and bickering, trying to get breakfasts and packed lunches ready, finding lost shoes and books needed for school. I cling to a cup of strong coffee trying to wake myself up enough to start my day and be a functional person.
3pm and it's time to get Boy from school. The walk is good for me but I can feel myself beginning to wilt. I'm home again by 4pm and so is Morier. I'm exhausted now and need to rest. The dinner needs to be made and chores still need doing but I'm out of energy, both physical and emotional. I lie on the sofa and curl under a blanket. The cats snuggle in beside me and purr softly as if trying to heal the broken parts of my body. I feel acute guilt as I lie down though, I want to be talking to Morier and sitting next to him, I don't want to be this useless and tired creature that has to have a nap like an old woman. So I don't sleep. I doze but I'm still alert to the things that happen around me. I hear the kids come and go in to the lounge, Moriers chair creaking and his keyboard as he types, the fish tanks bubble away in the background. I know it's safe to sleep now, Morier is home and he is the alert one, but still I can't.
11pm, bed time for us both and the start of the cycle once more. This has been my life now for months. I'm loosing interest in food, I live on coffee and cigarettes. I'm snappy and tense, in pain all the time from the lack of rest and the arthritis. I wonder if I will ever be able to sleep properly again. I wonder how long it will take until I burn out.