It’s 5:30 in the morning and I am wide awake. This is not like me. I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen a sunrise… Sure, I’ve been awake for a few of them the past few years. When you have kids it happens. But I’ve never been a morning person. My brain doesn’t usually power up until about ten… nine if I’m lucky. I’ve always wanted to be a morning person. It seems so much more respectable. Early to bed, early to rise as the saying goes. But even if I go to bed early, I can never fall asleep before midnight. My mind just can’t settle down. My best thoughts come during those nighttime hours, when everything is dark and quiet and so still. The daytime stress has been put to bed and I can finally breathe. I love being alone at night, reading or writing or experimenting with lamplight in my photographs. Time seems to slow down for me then, and knowing that sleep is the next thing that’s going to happen feels wonderful.

But here I am- wide awake- and it’s 5:37. It’s dark outside now, but the day is coming at me fast and I can feel my shoulders begin to tense up in preparation. My brain is chugging along, but not with the familiar slow night thoughts. I am thinking about the tasks that need to be completed today. Wondering if I can shower without waking up the kids (unlikely). Lists are forming behind my eyes. Grocery lists and cleaning lists and lists of appointments that need to be made and I just remembered the cats’ bowl has been empty for 24 hours which explains why they’re sitting there following my every movement with those big wet eyes.

It’s 5:44. There’s no way I can fall asleep now. There are so many hours left in this day. Isn’t that something that should fill me with energy and determination…? Why then do I find it so very discouraging?

It’s 5:46.