Saturday, February 14, 2015

3:00 AM

I'm not only awake, I'm aware.  I'm aware that I am alone.  The distractions and tasks that keep me alive and get me through the day have disappeared.  I fall asleep easily.  I can't stay asleep.  This is an almost nightly occurrence.  It's my witching hour, and the only things I can see are the imps and demons that haunt me and remind me of what my life has become.

There is nothing that jolts me awake.  No phone ringing, dog barking, or light flashing through the window.  I just wake up.  I lie there, wishing I could go back to sleep.  Wishing I could just have a fucking dream about Megan, because it's the only way I can speak with her.  I lie awake for at least an hour, trying desperately to clear my head, and not think about things.  I try to daydream myself back to sleep by imagining being in the mountains, which is the only place I feel comfortable sleeping alone.  When she was alive, I thought more about Megan when I was in those cold, wet mountains than when I was any other place.

I still sleep on one side of the bed.  I haven't gotten used to having an entire queen sized mattress to myself.  It feels wrong.  I slept on a twin mattress until I was 22, and when I met Megan, I had only had a full sized bed for about 3 months.  Prior to June 2014, I had only had room to stretch out at night for 3 months of my life.  I don't need to stretch out.  I need to be cramped.

At this moment, when I've again been awakened at my witching hour, it is now that I need Megan next to me, more than any other time.  I don't need to wake her up, I just need to know she's there, and that she wants to be there, and she wants to help me fight off those demons.  I know Shelby would if she could, but it's too much for a 7 year old.   Megan was my dragon slayer.

When the rejection started, I needed it so much that I physically carried Megan up our stairs to our bedroom every night for 3 months, before she had to live in the hospital.  She cried often about me needing to do that, but once she was calmed, she appreciated it immensely and was glad we could still sleep next to each other.

I figured this time, when I woke up, maybe I should write about it.  Maybe getting this out is another step in the process of becoming as normal as I can be.  I'm sitting here, bleary-eyed, staring at a computer screen and tapping away, but my mind is racing with this thought...

I want somebody to carry ME to bed and tell me it will be okay.

Happy Valentine's day babe, wherever you are.

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