Slumber

Is anybody else scared to go to bed at night? I don’t ever remember when I was a kid, feeling this way.  For a little while in college, yes, one summer when I was worried about bad guys crawling through our hundred and fifty year old un-lockable windows (if you don’t count the fact that they were painted shut with about fifty layers of lead paint) in the middle of the night.

Now, it’s like I go to bed and LET THE GAMES BEGIN.  At the middlin’ worst, it’s like last night, when I was too wound up for some reason (because of conference? Because I’d spent the whole day staring down at tiny wires and beads and solder joints? Because I ended the day cruising Facebook and getting into a million tiny conversations? Because I had held still too long over the weekend?  Because I’d stayed up too late?) and ended up, once more, on the treadmill at midnight.  Then, once I’d finally nestled in bed, I was jerked out of almost sleep by dogs whining. The time waiting for a dog to finish up his concerns outside in the rain, I did Sudoku.  Finally in bed again, and the old man heaves his way up the stairs and starts whining AGAIN.

But usually, it’s just a brain that won’t shut off.  I worry about not worrying about things I’ve forgotten to worry about. I anticipate trouble, logistics – remember things I’d forgotten that I’d forgotten but that have to be done, like, last week.  I imagine worst case scenarios.  I count things.  Like money.  And days till something happens.

I think I do these things because my core nature is mostly otter-like.  I don’t like planning.  I’m not organized.  I just wanna play and read and sing and write and wander in nature (with clothes on, thank you very much).  And that’s the problem, because if I let go of all the stuff I need to be responsible for, I really will let go and TERRIBLE THINGS WILL HAPPEN.

Or I dream about some stupid, improbable problem and come half awake and gnaw over solutions that are just as stupid, and then fall asleep and dream the same thing all over again.

Waking refreshed.  What is that?  Does anybody ever actually do that?  Not after they dream about giant ocean waves.  Or rampaging bears.  Or forgetting Christmas until it’s Christmas Eve  – and it’s Sunday.

So.  Honestly.  Is it possible to enjoy a night, once you’re a parent and a grown up and a responsible person?  I don’t even have anybody living with me who’s likely to throw up in the middle of the night (between the wall and the bed on the top bunk).  Or am I the only person who kind of swallows and screws up her courage on the way to bed?