I’m not sure about my ability to get to bed before 10:30. I’m not sure about the difference it will make in my life if I do. I’m not sure about anything, other than the fact that it’s Thursday morning and I’m only *just* convincing myself to drink the coffee that will restore some semblance of my desire to live.
The whole point of the “Hit the Pillow” project was to see if sleeping would restore at least part of my customary enthusiasm and optimism. I haven’t given it enough of a chance (see having too much fun at night to go to sleep, like some sort of overgrown eight year old), but I also see that there are other factors that will have to be considered…like keeping myself stacked with interesting projects at work, and drumming up home improvement support at home so I don’t feel like I’m the only one who cares if the house doesn’t look like the Joads live there. (Which is really an unfair knock on the Joads.)
The paradox: while I realize that enthusiasm and optimism don’t just happen, I have to make them, right now I can’t rustle up the desire to care. If I had it, I wouldn’t need to. Because I’d have it.
So I’m going to have to look at sleep like I do exercise: I don’t see any external results, but I know it’s important, so I keep doing it.
When I can find it in myself to give a darn.
Mom, Interrupted 