I Close My Eyes

Back when I had insomnia and would often wake at strange hours and not return to sleep, I tried many things to bring rest to my weary head.

I would get up, pace, watch TV, read a little. Sometimes I laid there, drifting in and out in some kind of conscious-but-not sort of wakefulness. I worried about whatever was going on. What would happen if X did Y or Q did T or thus and such and who cared, anyway?

Apparently, I did at the time, but not so much that I remember those worries. They only seemed important in the moment.

Worrying doesn't solve anything, although many times my worry turns into a plan: if X happens, I'll do Y. If the interviewer says Q, I'll say W. Or whatever. If you can make worrying turn into something positive, like a plan of action, then it's not so bad.

Overall though, worrying, especially at night, is not good.

I still worry. Perhaps once a worrier, always a worrier, but my worries no longer keep me awake at night. In fact, I sleep fairly well these days. I usually get up only once during the night, and I generally go right back to sleep.

Occasionally, though, I do find that I can't go to sleep right away. I have a little house in my head that I visit when I can't sleep. I start on the steps, which is a count, then I go in and begin examining the room, item by item, inch by inch, after envisioning an overall version of it. Usually after a few "objects" have come under scrutiny, I drop on off to sleep.

There are whole books about what to do if you can't sleep, so I'm not giving advice. I do imagery; some folks might fall asleep mid-prayer, I don't know. Everyone has to do what works for them.

***

Last night I watched part of a documentary on Nikki Giovani (her website is not up to date). Giovani retired in 2022 from Virginia Tech, where she'd been a professor since 1987. 

One of the parts that made me laugh was when she went after Rudolph, the Red Nosed Reindeer. She wanted to know why Santa and Mrs. Claus didn't do something about all those reindeer making fun or Rudolph and calling him names. She went on to say that if she'd been Rudolph, when Santa asked for the big favor in the foggy snow, she'd have said something akin to "F&ck you, Santa." 

I confess I have always thought the same thing about the Santa in Rudolph. He really wasn't a very nice guy. He was a bit nasty to the elves and not especially jolly.

Additionally, the footage of Blacks living in America made me think about how many Americas there are actually are here in the United States. I'm going to state that I think there are about 300 million Americas here, one for each person. Because everyone is different, and everyone thinks differently, and while many of us may have similarities in how we were raised, still, we're all different. We differ by race, we differ by class, we differ by gender. We have Black America, White America, rich, poor, middle class. Men, women, and those with gender identity concerns. We are indeed a melting pot, and it's far too late to put that lid back on and keep that pot from boiling over.

Which is, of course, what is happening now. Some are trying to put the lid on the pot, and that lid isn't going back on. We can't turn the clock back to the 1950s or the 1890s or whatever year it is that some people want to return to. This is 2024.

A whole new year, a whole new time. Old ways of thinking need to move aside.

If that means I'm "woke," I'm woke. I don't always like change - I worry about it when it is happening - but I don't always hide from it, either.