I am waking in the middle of the night. I wake between 3:30 and 4:30. Usually I can fall back to sleep. I seem to wake for no reason, although it feels like I have been awakened by something external and not my dreams. My phone is mute, no text messages. I wouldn’t hear them anyways; I silence the blips and dings when I sleep, leaving only the phone audible. But this morning, I wake and I am AWAKE. And shaky like I am hypoglycemic. I remember I did not eat any dinner. I had coffee, a slice of cheddar around 11:30 (and a sliver of the pineapple pound cake I made). I ate “lunch” at nearly 4pm, so dinner was easily forgotten, especially since after finishing lunch I went to the TJMAxx & Home Goods store. I got some great bargains on new bedroom lamps, an early birthday present. So, I forget food. I really only eat when I am hungry. It is different when I have people for whom I cook. I want to feed them and feed them well. But, I wake and discover the lack of milk, so despite a cereal selection worthy of Seinfeld I am not having my usual and customary middle-of-the-night snack. Instead I ate a snack pack of cottage cheese and cranberry walnut toast.
When I woke, I rolled to the middle. There is this lovely song by Sara Groves called Roll to the Middle. There is no easy-to-find Youtube video but she is one of the few Christian singers I like; her music is not overtly “messaged”. Anyways, I rolled to the middle. It is a hopeful thing. Rolling to the middle of the bed is a metaphor for a willingness to “keep at it”. When people roll away, the approach is closed and inaccessible. I accept that it is a heck of a lot easier to roll to the middle when you sleep alone (or with the occasional karate kicking 10 year old son). But, in rolling to the middle, I sense that internal shift within that I can roll to the middle, am willing to roll to the middle.
My snack settled and my yawning returns. I shall return to bed and try to sleep again.