Lying in bed last night, jet lag barring me from my normal ability to pass out minutes from my head hitting the pillow.
I had forced myself into the sheets, knowing my alarm would ring in five hours time for an early morning meeting. And yet the sleep will not come. I am riddled with brain churn, swirling at a pace that will not allow me peace.
My days are like are generally like this. I delight in the hyper speed of my random thoughts, and enjoy the challenge of connecting the dots between their meaning. I am good at this in a work context. I am getting better at doing this on a personal level. But when I am free of distractions, and I am in bed in the dark alone with no one to bounce my thoughts off of or have access to my bedroom whiteboard to sketch them out on, I am lost.
When I have that time alone during the day to think, I am productive. I am creative. Something happens to me when the lights go down. Those thoughts can turn dark with the room, and the general enthusiasm that fills my everyday life is replaced with doubt and odd thoughts that make no rational sense. I beg sleep to come so I can stop them from visiting.
I am grateful these thoughts don't come often. I am grateful I typically have a thought partner or a vehicle for working or talking them out. I am grateful that I typically have a positive outlook and can generally find the opportunity in the chaos.
I am not fond of being alone in bed, when no sleep comes to me. For a whole host of reasons.
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