Awake

I'm wide awake. Eyes wide open. In many ways. 

Since my recent surgery, my sleep patterns have been off. I'm up weird hours. Sometimes, when I wake up at 2 or 3 am, I just stay up. It's wrecking havoc on my energy levels and driving my poor husband bonkers. He needs his regular sleep. 

So tonight, when my eyes popped open at almost midnight, I padded downstairs to spare him. It's now 1:37 am. 

The term "AM" (AM vs PM) is an interesting one because it also reads as "am" meaning I am, meaning I am awake, and I am here. I am not sleeping. No longer. 

You see, I've been asleep for far too long. Metaphorically speaking. But not anymore. It's as if I'm seeing everything in startling hues when before it was in black and white. Like Dorothy stepping into the technicolor world of OZ. 

It's almost blinding it's so darn bright. This is the brightness of reality. 

That said, I'm glad I'm awake, but being awake is hard. It's easier to slumber with eyes closed in life. Gliding through not seeing all the horror around you. 

Don't get me wrong. There's a lotta beauty in life. A whole lot. Mountains of it. Yet, there's a lot of sadness, tragedy and injustice too. And I see it now and can't undo the lifting of the veil.

What I'm here to say, I guess, is that the only relief for me is my art of writing. Transcending the sadness with an escape into story and words is the only way I can breathe my friends. 

So here's to taking a deep breath and writing our own stories, and amplifying those of others, one step and one word at a time.