I hate when my body betrays me. I despise the nights when, try as I might, I simply cannot lull myself into sleep. It’s another side effect of working nights, I know. My circadian rhythms are out of whack. But knowing this doesn’t make it any less tortuous. My eyes popped open at 3:30 this morning, when everything around me was still swathed in the black of night. Even though I had only slept for a little more than four hours, I was ready to take on the world. (Or, at least, tackle more wedding planning.) Unfortunately, the world didn’t need much taking on at that hour, as it was still sleeping, along with my lovely fiancé, who peacefully slumbered through my tossing and turning, blissfully unaware of my insomnia. Listening to his deep, dream-laden breathes almost made it worse. Why should he be allowed the luxury of sleep while it so cruelly evaded me? It just wasn’t fair. I tried everything to ease myself back to sleep: relaxation techniques, reading a book, evening counting sheep. Alas, nothing worked. So, now at the much-too-early hour of 6:00am, I’ve officially given up. I’ve resigned myself to the fate of being exhausted all day. It won’t be pretty, but I’ll make it through. And maybe, just maybe, I’ll be tired enough to actually sleep an entire night.
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