And Finally, I Got Up at 2 This Morning

It is 4:50 a.m. I’ve been awake since 1.

I laid there, thinking, trying to focus on a mantra, told songs in my head to STOP!,

and finally, I got up at 2.

Sleeping for 7 or 8 hours has never been a problem for me, until about two years ago. A lot has changed since I turned 70.

Sometimes I find myself saying (even out loud!) that things have gone to hell since my 70th birthday. That’s not an affirmation I intend to continue manifesting. So, I shout in my head (and sometimes say out loud) “Cancel!! Cancel!!!”

My experience now is that a few times a month, I sleep soundly for three or so hours, and I wake up feeling like I’m going to jump out of my skin.

Anxiety, I think.

Anxiety??!! I’M experiencing anxiety? (Pretty much, I’m in denial about that possibility.)

I know what to do:

· Breathe … slowly…in and out

· Choose a mantra … “Ra Ma Da Sa Sa Say So Hung” I chant in my head

· Pray (“Please let me get to sleep”)

· Count imaginary sheep jumping over my wide-awake body

When none of that works,
I get up.

I am a writer. I express my thoughts and work things out by writing. Articles. In a journal. On scraps of notebook paper I find on the kitchen table or on my desk. I write.

That’s what I’m doing now.

Sharing my anxiety.

Sharing my middle-of-the-night experience, because I can’t be the only one.

I’m writing to say “Here’s what’s happening for me. Can you relate??”

I’ve been awake now for three hours. It is almost the time I usually rise: 5:30.

Early mornings are my favorite. The house is quiet. I get to watch the world around me come alive. The sun rises, golden yellow or sky-blue-pink. Noisy geese flock to the pond across the street. Ferries begin to shuttle across Long Island Sound. Fishermen gather in their boats, near the rocks. Tall sailboats can be seen in the early morning distance. If I’m lucky a submarine will come into…