Who can say why I don't sleep. Or at least sleep well. Aren't old people supposed to sleep all the time?
As I lay wide awake last night, listening to a radio program my husband likes to put on when he has trouble sleeping (as I cover my head with a pillow so I don't hear), I had to wonder.... why? Don't I work hard enough? Am I not doing enough? What is lacking? Why does my brain go a gazillion miles an hour when my body says 'no'? And when sleep does come, in short spurts, the dreams that come are close to nightmares. I was so hoping the days of recreating events in dreams, and creating outlandish new ones would stop. Do they stop? What exactly am I not letting go of, or dealing with. It's been nearly 7 years, the perfect number. God's perfect number. Yes, these times are further apart now, and not nearly as devastating as before. For that I am grateful. The words don't even have to get fully said around here about missing Ty. All either Bill or I have to say is, "My head just didn't do well today", and the other will say, "I understand."
It's just the 'working' through the little leftovers of anger and sadness, those times when you just want to enjoy one more laugh, hug, or a good slug right into his tattooed shoulder.
I've not journaled or written much about Tyler in the past two years. And maybe that's partly why I feel on overload at times, as I filled journals before and after he left us, and the thoughts and feelings weren't held all in one place, my brain.
He would have been celebrating his 30th birthday this coming year, and that in itself is getting the better of my nights.
I've rambled, but I wrote. Leaving my thoughts here, and hoping for a night of finding some peace (and sleep).