Tag Archive | sleepless

Blink if you weren’t already well aware *Yawn

People assume that time is a strict progression of cause to effect, but actually from a non-linear, non-subjective viewpoint – it’s more like a big ball of wibbly wobbly . . . time-y wimey . . . stuff.

Wonderfully, wisely aimagend wittily explained by 10. If you don’t readily know the reference I reluctantly forgive you. This time. Well, sort of, but not really. Go ahead and blink.

It’s 4:30. In the morning. What I was fairly certain was still today became yesterday when I looked at the clock after several hours of tossing and turning in an unsuccessful bid for sweet and solid sleep, and an inconvenient midnight need to cleanse my bathroom due to an unexpected, albeit minor, invasion of ants. Ants are assholes, in case you weren’t already well aware.

So tomorrow is now and I’ve not slept since the day before and my current state of mind is ever so slightly, just a bit, wibbly wobbly. More so than my norm. What I wouldn’t give for a police box in Tardis blue to take me back the moment I forgot to take that blasted little lullaby in a bottle of a pill that helps me fall asleep.

My internal clock decided quite some time ago to tender its resignation, leaving me very much awake and on my own, no es bueno for me. My body went on strike, vowing to stay awake until its demand for the missing ticking be met, and since my turncoat timepiece abandoned me, I had no choice but to seek pharmaceutical relief. Internal clocks are assholes, in case you weren’t already well aware.

The sun will soon be up and I will be a shell of a person sipping my coffee like a zombie with a throbbing headache I can already feel drumming . . . Can’t you hear it? Inside my head. I thought it would stop. But it never does. It never, ever stops. Inside my head. The drumming, the constant drumming.

Oh, where is a doctor when you need one. Again, quasi forgiveness if you’ve no idea what I am blathering on about. Today is Saturday, I just remembered I do in fact have an appointment to imagesee The Doctor. New guy, only one visit so far, we’ll see how good he is. Capaldi, don’t fail me. I know you can’t hear me, but you should have kept the facial hair. I blame Moffet of course.

I swear I keep feeling ants. I may as well get that coffee brewing, it is going to be a long, long day and I cannot stop yawning. Yawns are assholes, in case you weren’t already well aware.

Crystal R. Cook




Damn him . . .


The man in the moon
is staring down at me
He sings a lullaby
I can’t help but hear
Hard as I try
to drown out the sound
it echoes inside of me
keeping time with
my beating heart
Is it slowing?
I drift into dreams
I cannot escape
Is it slowing?
To never dream
never wander
never see
what waits
when eyes close
The man in the moon
is staring down at me
protector or
he never answers
Is it slowing?
Dreams wake
when he takes a chair
on my side
of the moon
How far he
would fall
if I pulled him down
I cannot reach
the stars
Is it really slowing?
Damn the man in the moon.

Crystal R. Cook

I rise and write.

Hendrick ter Brugghen - Old Man Writing by Candlelight

Hendrick ter Brugghen – Old Man Writing by Candlelight

When the sun settles for the night and the moon begins its reign, I rise and I write.

Insomnia is often a writer’s friend, perhaps even their only friend at times. It can also be an innocent and unintentional adversary. Many nights I have laid my head upon my pillow in hopes of drifting into dream. Instead, my mind begins to think on things I should have thought of throughout the day. Ideas and epiphanies chance moonlight visits to my conscious mind, begging me to rise and give them life upon a page.

Sonnets of silence serenade me with lullabies not meant to calm me to rest, but rather charm me to dream a thousand wakeful dreams. With my eyes open, pen in hand, word by beautiful word, they enchant me. A writer’s respite is not often found in the dark of night. Meandering minutes quickly turn to hours when a wandering muse beckons. When night retreats to the rising sun and the words silence to claim the sleep that was meant to be mine, it is time again to start another day.

Coffee in hand I stumble through, vowing not to stir again before the morning sun. I almost make myself believe I will slumber when the night comes, but when it does the seduction of solitude is too much to resist and I find myself once again, dancing with words across a page like lovers in a dream. I know too well the next day will be filled with weary eyes and a yawning, yearning for sleep.

Sometimes, when the night words come to steal my tomorrow, I refuse to play. When I do not heed their call, they whisper louder to lure me from my bed, knowing I will mourn their loss if I do not rise and claim them for my own. As a willing servant I follow and frolic just as I did the night before. Though happy to have the gift of them granted to me, I know there will be a price to pay, and I gladly pay it without pause.

There are moments I admit I have wished them gone. When my tired eyes blur and my head pounds in time with the beating of my heart, sometimes I wish them gone . . . but not really. Without them I would cease to exist, at least I fear I would. Every now and again, they retreat and sleep consumes me. I never fear their leave of me; they are silent and still only long enough for my body and mind to rejuvenate before they come again to play.

I welcome them and look to the light of the moon to guide our way through another night.

Crystal R. Cook

This too shall pass, really.


There are many mommy moments, even now, I’m not certain I’ve the strength to muster through, but then the next minute comes and I realize I survived, it gives me hope. This is not to say the journey has left me with all my sanity intact, far from it, but I’m confident I shall reach my destination with a wee bit left.

This too shall pass is a fitting mantra for mommies. I’ve said it during diaper duty and flu season, hectic mornings with missing shoes and terrible tantrums in the night. Teen angst . . . this too shall pass. Homework hassles . . . this too shall pass. Sibling rivalry at its worst . . . this too shall, who am I kidding, this one never ends.

Basically, when you think you simply can’t take a moment more you have to remind yourself you really have no choice, take a deep breath, count to sixty and voila, another minute has passed and you’re still standing. Good piece of advice here, when you take that deep, cleansing breath don’t forget to reverse it.

Sometimes you just do what you gotta do. I’m reminded of a day when my children were little. Thankfully, I wrote many memories down as they happened, you start to forget things you never thought you could as they get older. As we get older, I suppose I should say. The following is a preserved memory of one of those days . . .

I’d reached the end of my proverbial rope and resorted to good old-fashioned bribery. I had to, there was no other way,this too shall pass wasn’t doing the trick and I succumbed to the mommy bribe. I don’t recommend repeated use of this tactic but when you’re at your wit’s end it’s more of a survival technique than anything else. You’ll survive, the kids will survive. All’s well that ends well right?

I’d awoken early. I don’t mean early like, oh rapturous joy, the sun is shining, the birds are singing, my-oh-my what a wonderful day . . . no. I mean early like, three a.m. early. No sun, no birds, no singing, no nothing. Just a sprawled out child grinding his teeth and emitting other strange noises from various parts if his body.

When my eyes adjusted to the dim light of the room I saw a well-worn sock on my pillow. It certainly wasn’t mine. I reached to remove the foul thing but my arm was trapped beneath a leg that was attached to a sock-less foot. I gently pushed it aside only to find another leg beneath it. I had no idea my son was such a talented contortionist. I considered sending him off to join the circus, it was a fleeting thought.

When I’d untangled myself from his wiry little limbs I was dismayed to find I still couldn’t move. My body was on strike. It pained me greatly to arise. I tried to shoo the little bugger off to his own bed but he is either a really sound sleeper or a really good fake sleeper. Either way, I was unwilling to attempt an airlift and carry him to his own bed.

I pushed him aside with both of my feet and tried to fall asleep again. Ten seconds into it I had to use the ladies room. When I returned, the little bed hog was once again sprawled out across the length and width of my bed with my blankets in a bunch around him.

Generally I look upon my sleeping angels with wonder and warmth. At that moment though, I felt no motherly fuzzies stirring in my heart. I just wanted to go to sleep and if that meant he had to be moved, so be it. I pulled the covers from around, over and under him and pushed him to the far edge of the bed. By the time I was snuggled in and comfy again it was three forty-five a.m.

I wrestled with the ever-moving child until my alarm sounded at six-thirty. The sun was up, but I was not greeted by the melodies of a sweet morning song bird. A nasty old rooster my neighbors keep was cock-a-doodle-doodling like he could actually awake the entire sleeping population of the world. I briefly pondered substituting rooster for turkey at our next Thanksgiving.

My mirror refused to look at me; I guess it didn’t want to hurt my feelings with what I would see. I decided coffee would help considerably. I awaited the brewed concoction of caffeinated joy anxiously. As I poured, I was more than dismayed to see only plain hot water filling my cup. I’d neglected to put coffee in the filter.

I knew I had to wake the kids for school, but I was afraid and so very tired. I gathered my courage and awoke them each as gently as I could, even the offending troll still sleeping peacefully in my bed. Shortly after they’d eaten breakfast they all plopped down in front of the television and began surfing for morning cartoons.

I walked right over there and turned it off! “Excuse me, but do we watch T.V. before school?” They all looked at me like I was some insane maniac just escaped from the loony bin. Before any of them could speak I realized I, in all my wisdom, had just awoken my children at six-thirty in the morning on what was to be the beginning of a three-day weekend.

I turned the television back on and cried as I slowly shuffled back to the safety of my bed. A few minutes went by and I felt movement near my feet. A little body crawled up next to mine and snuggled in. It was the troll. The same one who’d caused such misery just hours earlier had come to comfort me.

Would you believe I actually fell fast asleep? My rejuvenating rest didn’t last long, but it was a welcome relief. The day went quickly by and we where all once again tucked into our beds for the night. Sleep found me and wrapped itself around me in soft, calming comfort.

When I was awakened at three forty-five by an elbow to the neck I decided to count my losses and give up. I simply could’nt win this battle. I was sleep deprived and only semi conscious. I took every blanket off my son and yanked the pillow from beneath his snoring, teeth grinding head and took to the quiet sanctuary of the couch. I’d like to tell you I got the required rest a mother should have, but I cannot.

The clock above me kept ticking away the seconds and shouting out the hours, the refrigerator came to life and the couch began to grow strange lumps beneath me. The next morning I promised my son a dollar for every night he stayed in his own bed. He pondered it and added hot cocoa in the mornings to sweeten the deal.

I agreed. No price is too high for a good nights sleep. I thought I was in the clear but when the other children found out he was getting extras for doing what he should be doing anyway they demanded equal treatment under the Siblings Fairness Act, which states no sibling should be denied what another sibling has regardless of the circumstances.

I don’t know when they came up with the whole Sibling Fairness Act routine, but I got a chuckle out of it. I told them we would live like paupers if I had to shell out four bucks a night so they settled for the hot cocoa and we all slept happily ever after . . . for a few nights anyway.

Crystal R. Cook



Geez, melodramatic much?

I can be just a teeny melodramatic sometimes. Well, really only in the wee hours of the morning after I’ve tossed and turned all night. I am not one for drama. Those nights though, when the day has been rough and sleep refuses to visit, I take it out on the page. I am fairly certain if too many of my silent midnight ravings were to be set loose, I would quite possibly find myself locked securely away somewhere.

Thank goodness for the sanctuary and release of words . . . Usually, I find these bits of craziness tucked into my nightstand months after they were written, I generally have no idea what led me to write them. This one though, this was after a particularly rough IEP meeting, fighting the school, again, for the services my son required and deserved. I got them, but the battle wore me down. Everything was wearing me down.

I always feel better after I spill my lunacy upon a page, the therapeutic power of the pen is magical.

in my mind
are not
fit to be

of normalcy,
if there
is indeed
such a

into the
abyss of
what used
to be.

to the brim
with bile.

The bane
of simple
too much a
burden upon
battered and
shoulders that
have carried
more than
their share
of suffering
never meant
for them.

Bones crush,
hearts break,
spirits begin
to cry out
for mercy
that will
never come.

Their thirst will
never be
hunger will
never be
not even
when there
is nothing
left of me
to feed upon.

will cloak
me in
the fear
I no longer
have strength
to fight,
I no longer
care to fight.

Respite and
are what I
long for now.

No more
no more
no more

Leave me
to my misery
until the light
beckons me
to rise
and face
the battle
once again.

Crystal R Cook




The sun has
long since set.

The midnight hour
has already begun
to surrender reign
to the approaching

With heavy eyes,
I abide in silence
while the sun
stirs from slumber.

The night has been
so very long.

I fear this new day
may linger past its
appointed hour
as well.

What unseen thief has
has robbed me of repose?

I pray this season of unrest
is soon quelled.

I yearn to be lost in dream.

I long to have the ebony sky
blanket me in the mysteries
it holds.

To be swept away on a
moon beam odyssey
is my fondest desire.

Stirring thoughts
keep the lullaby
of peaceful solace
from me.

Rambling notions stumble,
one upon another
in desperate measure
to be heard,
refusing to be ignored.

Fingers of light
have begun to reach
into my night veiled realm.

They beckon me
to arise and frolic,
but the night does not
willingly release
its embrace.

I will soon enough rise
and move about the day,
though my innermost
essence is weary,
I will remain steadfast.

When this day’s ebbing sun
takes another evening bow,
I will once more retreat
to the comfort
of my darkened room
and pray through the night
for the hush of perfect solitude
to encompass me.