I Am Nighttime

I do not like to wake at 5 a.m. and start the day. Nor do I like going to bed early (though I do, it's a marital compromise). 

When my husband worked a 24-hour shift as a firefighter, I frequently stayed up until 2 a.m. reading a book. I would get up about 7 a.m., regardless, but I did not - and still do not - hit my stride until about 10 a.m.

Then, I am at my best. When I was working hard at my freelancing, I did my best writing during the hours of 10 and 2, with an energy drop after 3 p.m.

Later, after dinner, often I would hit another upswing, and the nights my husband wasn't home might find me at the computer writing and working again in a second round, sometimes until the wee morning hours, if I had a deadline.

In this way, I could pump out 30+ articles a month. My rhythms are different.

I am not necessarily a nighttime person, but I also not a morning person. My life and my moods, though, are more like the moon.

I do not ever recall shining as brilliantly as the sun. My husband does that - for me, anyway, he's like a brilliant spot of sunshine.

There have been days when I may have shone as brilliantly as a supermoon on the cusp of moonrise. But not often.

I am moody. I am dark. I tend to see not progress, but regression. The cup half empty, not half full. I roam around through life with my eyes blinded sometimes, unable to see what I need to and yet sensing and knowing so much more than many others. I have always been able to make massive leaps from point A to point M and on to Z without too much effort. I can see how the puzzle pieces fit together in almost any given situation. I catch the meanings that others miss.

But the darkness does overcome me much more frequently than it should. Even though there are experts who do not believe children have problems with depression, I would say to them, "You are wrong." I have been depressed for as long as I can remember, and these days the doctor calls it dysthymia - long, drawn out depression that doesn't stop me in my tracks - I have never let it stop me completely - but which keeps me from enjoying many things.

I wane and wax like the moon, sometimes shriveling up until I am the new moon, a total darkness where the stars can best be seen. Only I do not see the stars until the moon begins waxing again. I know that the turn will come, it's just a question of when. When will I be a full moon again?

My husband was forewarned of this before we married, before I said yes to the question. I told him about my moods. Even at 20, I knew I had mood swings that could be difficult. I made sure he experienced them.

He married me anyway. Despite my eternal sadness, my constant emptiness, and the damnable feelings of unworthiness that have plagued me always, he smiled at me, lifted me, and married me.

I may be a creature of the night, but I am indeed a lucky one.