Insomnia

Can you really call it insomnia if you actually fall asleep by 11:00? I guess I'm just talking about the time between when I go to bed and when I actually fall asleep. My mind races and all sorts of thoughts come bubbling to the surface. Some of them are pretty mundane like what I could take out to thaw for dinner in the morning, or the fact that I'm running low on shampoo, but most of the time I'm thinking about My Love. I'm in a long distance relationship. Regular relationships are hard enough, now add hours of driving (and have you SEEN the price of gas?!? Gaaa!!) and clashing work schedules into the mix, throw in some serious complications and the occasional dash of insecurities and you have the recipe for some lost sleep.

Most nights are good. I ALWAYS miss him, but I can metaphorically wrap myself up in all the lovely, wonderful and perfect sweet nothings he's told me throughout the day, and sleep sweet. But sometimes I lie here and blink, trying to chase the worry away, trying to trust. Most of the time I do, and as anyone who has known me for any length of time, trust has always been my downfall. I'm naive and stupid and always want to see the good in people, and it has lead me to some very dark places. I'm certain that's not going to be the outcome this time, or at least fairly certain.

Sometimes the insecurities, fear and doubt get to be too much. Seriously too much. Like I feel like it would be easier to give up and wait for a more opportune time to pursue the relationship, but let's be honest: I love him. I'll always love him, so if I get so scared that I end the relationship, it wouldn't really be over. I'd still dream about him. I'd still think about him non-stop. I'd still be his and no one else's, and I'd still be sick with anticipation over when that "more opportune time" might be.

So I melt down. I have a serious meltdown of nuclear proportions. I cry and shut down and try to shut him out, but I love him and I don't really want to shut him out. I want what everyone wants: to have someone know the core of who I am and love me in spite of the icky parts. So I let him see the crazy in me. I let him in and let him see me unravel. And he listens. And he hurts because I do. And he listens. And he tells me that I'm wrong when I make wild assumptions. And he listens in my moments of weakness. And he hurts.

When I get a grip and realize that I'm freaking out and trying to throw away the most amazing thing I've ever experienced, I am filled with remorse and self-loathing. I have just let my fear, insecurities and uncanny knack for self sabotage drive a wedge between myself and my beloved. And when it's all over, he tells me that he loves me. When I properly apologize, acknowledging what I did, how it made him feel, what I should have done differently and how I plan to deal with it next time, he simply says, "Thank you, but I understand Honey. I love you!" And the best thing is, I know that he means it. He doesn't hold it against me, and probably realizes that I've tortured myself enough for it. It's yet another reminder of how fortunate I am to have him.

So, even though the distance between us sometimes feels like an insurmountable obstacle, I know that we could be a million miles apart, and it wouldn't change how we feel about each other. There is a great comfort in that, so I snuggle up cozy in my bed and drift off to sleep to dream about the day we'll be together for always.