Sometimes, when I can't sleep, it's because my mind is racing.
It'll be filled with past expereinces, things I regret, things I still don't understand, and things I remember so vividly I can hardly bear it.
Sometimes, I'll be in a daydream-kinda state, laying there wishing I could fall asleep, and I'll go through some of those past events, and change them. But it seems I can never REALLY change them, or their outcomes. It's more like me wishing I had said MORE, done MORE, but never seeing what might have been had I done so. I'll replay conversations from years and years ago and say more than I did orginally.
Like tonight. Tonight my mind was all about regrets, all that kind of bullshit that 24 year olds really don't often think about, but here it is, in pretty much the order my brain decided to torment me in.
Like, I thought about my mom, and how while in some ways we were, and still are, very close, in some ways we are light years apart. Like how in ninth grade I was being bitchy in the car on the way to the mall and she asked me if I had ever had my period, and I didn't have the heart to tell her that it was old news: I'd started back in 7th grade, but really didn't think it was any of her damn business, so I never told her. I mean, I knew all I needed to know about sex and my body and shit from school, so there really wasn't any need to bring her into it. But then I think that maybe that was something she would have wanted to know, like, maybe that's some weird mother-daughter bonding thing, and I cheated her out of it. And then my mind starts to wander to what I would have wanted; will want some day when I have a daughter, and I know that I would want to know, and I feel worse.
Then thoughts of me not telling her THAT leads to me not telling her other things that may have been pertinent information for her, like when I started fooling around with guys and all that crap. Like, she probably should have been told, or something I guess, when I lost my virginity. I mean, I probably should have gone to the doctor or something, but I just didn't want to deal with her about it; I was so sure she'd just lecture me and do that over-bearing thing that she sometimes did, and I just wasn't going to deal with that from her. It was so much easier to just let her think what she wanted to think, because I'm still fairly certain that she didn't know half the shit I got up to in those years. Although, the one time I DID cut class, she knew within the hour and I was in deep shit. But that was school, and she may have had her connections there, but even so; I let her believe what she wanted. And again, I think about what I would have wanted in that position, and I would want MY daughter to tell me; I wouldn't want her to be worried, or to not trust me with that, not trust that I wouldn't freak out on her. I was just so damn uncomfortable talking to her about personal crap; still am. And it wasn't even the idea of talking about it that made me uncomfortable, it was the idea of talking about it with her. And then I feel bad about THAT.
And as all these thoughts and mom-guilt were racing through my head, I remembered the day she told me that she and my dad were splitting up, because we had a fight.
I didn't like being in the house those days~I liked being at the neighbor's better, I was friends with the daughters and they all seemed very happy family, you know? And they invited me to go with them to watch the marching band because the oldest daughter was in it. So I went home to ask my mom if I could, and when she said "No" I pressed it, because I really wanted to and she was just giving me that bullshit "no, because I said so" answer that everyone hates to hear, and we ended up yelling at each other. Later she came to talk to me and ended up telling me that she didn't want me going because she and dad were planning on telling us they were getting divorced that night, and not to tell my brothers because dad wasn't home yet. And then, the next day, my friend up the street called in hysterics because her cat had gotten outside and they couldn't find her and could I please come help her look, and I was so happy for the distraction, but so pissed at her because her biggest worry was her stupid cat and my parents were getting divorced. But I went over to her house, and she was crying, and then I started crying and she was really confused.
And then suddenly, my mind flipped to a conversation I had with my math teacher in 7th grade~Mrs. Linehan~because my mother called her and told her about the divorce and that I might be distracted in class and whatever bullshit. I hated math anyway, it terrified me and I didn't understand any of it. So she was telling me that finding out about the divorce in the second marking period didn't really explain my lack of homework and bad tests in the FIRST marking period, so I'd better not try to use it as an excuse, and I was so intimidated by her that I didn't say anything. But tonight, as I was reworking the conversation in my head, I yelled and I railed at her, carrying on about how just because I just found out didn't mean that everything up to that point was great. I was ranting about my brothers, and how I never wanted to be at home, but I wasn't old enough to get a car and a job like Nick, and I wasn't as thick-skinned and tough like Tony, and so I was stuck and I knew that things weren't right because anyone who was in that house for any extended period of time could tell that something was wrong, and why didn't she think to ask me about any of it before, why didn't she want to know why I was quiet and distracted and why couldn't she have asked in a way that wasn't intimidating for a 7th grade introvert?
And then I flashed to my 8th grade math teacher, and how Gina Pietropalo and I used to get in trouble by shooting candy at each other from our necklaces, and how even though I can't remember his name, I remember him lecturing us for wearing glitter eyeliner, because didn't we know that glitter was made out of glass, and we'd end up cutting our eyes and going blind?
And then I couldn't take anymore of it and came out here to the computer.
So these are some of my Deep Thoughts; the demons that sometimes creep up on me when I'm close to sleep, and then keep me awake for hours on end. I've all but banished the worst of them; the true monsters RARELY come out anymore, but these are the stubborn small ones.
So, in about 5 and a half hours, I have to drive Zach to work, come home, shower, eat, dress, do my math homework (which is coming to me easier these days) and go to class. Hopefully I'll be able to sleep at some point in those hours to come~there's not enough time to take an Ambien safely, so whatever sleep it is will have to be natural.
Wish me luck.
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whenever I think about college I think about the three girls I met there and how different we all are and how close we all were and even though we are scattered how close we remain and I hope that we always stay that way... I know, sappy... anyway I remember when I first met you manders. You were this skinny thing that was "almost engaged" do you remember that? I remember thinking to myself, what the hell does "almost engaged" mean? I had a couple of classes with you and I distincly remember telling Justin Sanford that I did think taht we would ever be close friends (you and me... though I told justin that about him too a couple of times... he cried... ew) anyway, I remember watching a simpsons marathon with you guys and I really didn't like the simpsons. But somehow we did become really close. I think one of the things that I love about you and there are many, but one is how fricking smart you are and when you write things it makes me actually think. You have insight that I would kill for and you just take things as they come. You are an amazing mix of laid back, go with the flow and still sentimental about all that stuff that we never know what to do with; forget and move on or hold onto. But you stick it in your mental shoe box and take it out to reflect on at the right times. I love how you live in the moment but remember the stuff in the past. I guess we all remember stuff weather we want to or not but you do it with class and wit. I think the wit is the part I like best. Anyway I thought i would just let you know that when I read this post that's what I thought about. I've been sitting at the computer listening to music and writing a letter of interest for a newsletter editor position at our church... it's something to do at least. But after I finished writing I remember how much I used to love to just write about shit. Anything really. I love to type especially. It's something that I can do fast, it almost feels like driving really recklessly except if I get going to fast I just might invert letters rather than hit a telephone pole :) which is reassuring because that would suck since I am behind on my car insurance payment. Ok well i will shut up now and pop a Tylenol PM. Good luck getting to sleep.
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