The past couple of nights have been laced with insomnia. I have been tired, but unable to hush my thoughts. This is the part that I hate, the PTSD-esk phase - when the events and words that were said, keep replaying themselves over and over in my mind. Every time I'd close my eyes they were forced back open by my feelings about what was said and what went down, and by his reaction to me in my entirety and in my vulnerability. I think I'm still in shock. Its not like we haven't been here before, but this time was different. This time set the tone for there not to be a next time. I wasn't ready for that. It was unexpected and unwanted.

And you know what else I hate? Not knowing what to do with left over love. This love hasn't reached its expiration date yet, and now I have to place it back on the shelf, although it has already been assigned, and pretend that it doesn't exist, even though it stares back at me longingly. Pretty pathetic huh?

Last night, a friend and I had a conversation about sleep. Like "me-time", a good night's sleep or a restful nap seems to always be on a mother's list. Insomnia is like the new black. And not just the regular old I can't fall asleep. No. Many of us have, what I'd like to call, Self Induced Insomnia. From the minute our feet hit the ground, until the minute our children are tucked into bed, we are on the clock. We are doing what we can, in an allotted amount of time, and it is only after all is settled in the house, that we can even think about ourselves or any pressing projects that need our attention. I told my friend that I have been catching myself, sitting on the edge of the bed, admiring my daughter's ability to drop off whenever its lights out, and wake rested and ready for her day. Even on days that she'd rather stay sleeping than get ready for school, once up, she's UP. Maybe "admire" isn't the right word. I envy her. I want to be able to do that! I want to lay my head on my pillow, without twisting and turning, trying to find a comfortable position, one that will smoother my pestering thoughts and support my tired muscles. Why can't I do that? Instead, I'll sit up, laptop on, until 12... 1... 2... 3am, just because, now I can, in peace! Seems like further self sabotage, yet necessary.

I know I'm not, but I need to read you say it. Tell me I'm not the only one.