It is 6am and I have been awake for well over an hour. I laid there listening to it rain heavily, movie type rain, and singing a Snow Patrol song. That's how my mind works, apparently. I haven't listened to them in awhile now, I've been loading up on the Fratellis in anticipation of their concert this coming weekend, and yet, out of a dead sleep, I wake to find Spitting Games going round in my head. I don't even know all the words.
I laid there for an hour, trying to find a comfortable position, rearranging the pillows, discussing with myself how that song seems to be a running theme with them about weight and relationships and the man being able to support his love. I was trying to still my mind when I realized it was a lost cause. Insomnia is miserable. I'm actually quite exhausted and yet I cannot sleep. Last week felt like it was 6 weeks long. My niece left on Wednesday and that seems several decades ago. Thursday was the opera in Temple Bar, which also seems to have taken place when I was much younger. Friday was a going away party at the office, for which I was in no mood, but managed to rise to the occasion. I finally hit my pillow at 2am on Friday and didn't wake until 1:30 Saturday afternoon. I never sleep that late. And even at 1:30 I had to force myself out of bed. I went to an appointment and then found myself in the company of Joe and friends, completely unable to contribute to the conversation. I came home and was tucked in bed before midnight and yet had to force myself out of bed again on Sunday (was that really only yesterday?) just before noon.
It has occurred to me that I need a vacation. A proper 'get away from every one and every thing and do whatever the hell you feel like doing even if that only involves staring into the distance for hours at a time' holiday. But I am booked every weekend until October. The Fratellis this weekend, a friend in town the following weekend. Then my mother and my Aunts come to town for 2 weeks. After the aunties leave, my mother and I are going to Italy for a long weekend and then I return home to watch the calendar turn to October. Which all doesn't sound too bad unless you consider that my niece was here for 3 weeks, and friends of the family popped in for a quick visit during that time and an old friend from college kicked it all off a few weekends before that.
The sick thing is, I love seeing everyone and I wouldn't have it otherwise. I was thrilled to bits when the niece told me they'd be here and I'd get to spend a lot of time with her. I'm exhausted, but very happy. We had a great time. And I loved seeing the family friends. I cannot wait to see the Aunties again and to show my mother Dún Laoghaire. It's just that I want a break. And I don't want people to read this and feel guilty about visiting. (mom) It's just feels like time has opened up and expanded into a strange 3 dimensional quality where it needs to be traversed rather than experienced.
Actually, this is very similar to how I felt each time I finished a semester in architecture school. I'd have been awake for months, quite literally, surviving on short 3 hour stretches of sleep every few days. By the time the final projects were juried and the tests were taken, I'd fall into bed and not move for 4 days. I remember the first semester of grad school, I had flown from LA to Boston to spend Christmas with my brother, who was utterly unprepared for how exhausted I was. I'd nearly been evicted because of BitchHo, I was spending upwards of 40+hours at a stretch at my computer, and my diet consisted mostly of fast food because that's all that's available at 4am on a Tuesday. You don't dare go home; your bed is at home and that's far to tempting on a deadline. So when I got off the plane and on to his sofa, I stayed there for what seemed like days, puttering around the house in my pajamas, doing absolutely nothing. He was concerned. Then he was convinced I had no money with which to do things. Then he was concerned again. I rallied after a few days of recovery and made a mental note to never see the family immediately after the semester finished.
That's what I feel like at the moment, only this time I'm not nearly as physically exhausted. Except that waking up at 5am means I'll be fading hard and fast at my desk around 3pm and I'll have gotten my second wind about 9pm, rendering an early bedtime impossible. It's a rough way to start the week.
Happy Monday everyone.