Or, early. Or just the usual inability to sleep. I keep hearing that it is something wonky with my adrenal stuff, but that does not help me find a regular sleeping schedule. A diagnosis and some treatment would be nice.
So, here I am again. Up and quiet so that I do not disturb the downstairs folk. Nearly six weeks have gone along without any fisticuffs, yelling or other foul deeds against one another. Well, until over the weekend, but there were only two nights of loudness. Unfortunately, I was finally back on a med-induced sleep pattern, and now that is all shot to heck.
It gives me lots of time to think and make quiet art. Last night was the Solstice and I did my little weird stuff and a bit of art later on. I have finished making all of my gifts, and whilst that is always a fun thing, this year I am pleased with some of the stuff I made. We will celebrate when my daughter and all her guys return from Christmas with my son-in-love's family out west. My daughter had her last finals for the term last week and is actually taking some time for herself for a while. We decided that we will get together and eat and play and exchange gifts when they get back next week. Nice.
Anyway, I have an entire week of no place to be, no jobs or volunteer gigs, nuttin'. Yay. Slacker that I am, though, it makes it very easy to just sleep when I get too tired to stay up, sleep naturally and, frankly, I am pretty much sleeping for at least twelve hours, up for eight-to-ten and back asleep for a long time. Well, that will work until next week, but I am sure that I am messing up my internal tickings worse than they would be otherwise.
On the other hand, this could be what I need to be awake during the day and asleep during the dark, you know, like a normal person. Fat chance. Anyway, I have been eating down the pantry the refrigerator is holding apples, a jar of really good giardiniera, a few eggs, some really old beer and a lot of condiments. No fresh food whatsoever. All of the grains and pasta are gone, except for a lone bag of lentils. No soup ingredients, ah. Unless I plan on eating microwave popcorn for the next five days it would probably be in my best interest to put on some clothes tomorrow and go to the market.
I actually thought about doing just that, well, like now, but nothing stays open in this village after ten o'clock, not even the gasoline stations, which eliminates even quick junk food.
My life is nice, but my problems are entirely first world. Even sleeplessness. And, eating down the pantry is a nice and structured thing to do, as no food gets lost on the back of the shelves only to be tossed when it is no longer fit to eat. There are times when it seems that I am decidedly not so frugal anymore, especially with how often I grab a quick meal instead of going home and cooking something. That is particularly nice on busy days, particularly on those days when my energy lags, but it is not frugal. It is, however, social, so that is nice.
So, anyway. Pissy problems aside, another thought planet that I have been experiencing is that, maybe, just maybe, happiness and I are not meant to be together. Sure, I am thrilled to no longer be under the assault that was that other life, and all that healing stuff is going well. But. There is something that still feels fragile about my now, new life.
I was driving home last week from fetching the last of the gift cards and books for my grandsons and a car followed me all the way north on the road. I tried to dismiss it, just more foolishness and lack of respect for all the work I have done, but that car was behind me all the way, then through the neighborhood I take into the village and onto the street where I live.
I know that he and his family do not know where I live, at least I am fairly certain of that. No, I have to insist that they do not, or...or, what? Live in hiding again? I cannot do that. So, when I reached my flat I kept on driving. The car made one more turn with me and then continued on west when I turned south.
It was just a coincidence, which was my first thought when I noticed that car whilst still a half-hour from home. And, I am not the only person who has to take one of those circuitous routes to get here. The village is not on a big highway or anything. But, it really bothers me that the whole thing bothered me and I have to wonder if that sort of thing is how I might undermine the life I now have.
You cannot live with fear like that. I refuse to spend what is left of my life looking over my shoulder to see if any of them are still tracking me down. I just cannot do any of that. That first year I did not leave at night for anything, and I always made sure that I was home before dark. I spent the better part of the second year scanning the surroundings when I came home, especially at night and checked before I left, as well.
It seems, sometimes, as though that is the legacy of that other life. That he still controls me with fear. And, the worst part is that he has most likely forgotten all about me and has moved on with his own life. The Universe does not revolve around me, but that vulnerability, those threads of fear thoughts are persistent.
I am fine now, was even just fine that evening. It is fully under my control to do and feel whatever I want, but it is annoying, all in all, to have that kind of response pop up so easily.
However, insights and all, writing/spewing it all out aside, I cannot use all this work as an excuse for buying other than healthy food tomorrow. To feel so weak at the time of year when dark chocolate covered cherries candies are in season. Alas.