Wake Up Thoughts

When I was at my worst phases of insomnia (hard to say, probably during menopause), I would lie awake most of the night unable to turn the "movie" off in my head. Those thoughts that keep going around and around inside your head - replays of the day; little aggravating thoughts about all kinds of things, not always so little; serious thoughts about finances, children, relationships - of course you know what I'm talking about. Those thoughts turn the hands on the clock from midnight to 4 am very quickly and can be quite troublesome. But I think I have topped them with my WAKE UP thoughts.

I'm not sure when these wake up thoughts first became problematic. All I know is they can be quite unsettling. These thoughts don't appear every morning and there is no way to prepare for them or to stop them.

Occasionally they are little sad thoughts. When hubby and I lived so very many miles away from each other, sometimes toward the middle of the time between our visits I would sometimes wake up and just as my eyes were opening, I would think of him and think "I miss him." Almost out loud.

When I was recuperating from my mastectomy, I would wake up angry! The thought - I'm so ANGRY- would literally form on my lips. It seems anger is a recurring theme in my "wake up thoughts." It can be about anything. It sometimes used to be about #2 and her possessiveness. Other times angry thoughts would emerge at dawn about something hubby had said or done that I found particularly upsetting. Occasionally, the thought would be about something sad, annoying, or almost trivial. Whatever the thoughts are about they have an urgency. They rouse me when usually I am difficult to awake.

The other day, I woke up and as clear as a bell my first thoughts were how I missed the 5 year old grandson I left behind. For some reason this startled me. I think I know why I had that wake up thought. That little boy was a constant source of affection for me. He hugged and hugged me, especially when no one else did. The human touch is so necessary. It is the sugar of life. When my father died for years I recall my mother saying: "I just want someone to touch me." This was disturbing to me because I know I hugged her on occasion, or took her arm crossing the street and so forth. I used to have a problem with being touched. I have an instinct to pull away. But that little boys hugs were more than welcome. They were the medicine I needed. And now I miss them.