Insomnia attacks again…

1st January, 3AM.

Dear Diary,

Gosh I feel like a teenager. Dear Diary…pft….but what else do I call you? If I just write it’s like I’m just writing, which I am but I want to feel like I’m talking to someone on the page if you know what I mean? So yeah let’s pretend I am a teenager…OK maybe not. I’ll just call you Diary and behave my age of 45. Why the hell did I just admit that?! Oh stuff it. This is stupid.

1st January, 3:30AM.

Dear Diary,

I’m back. OK here’s the thing. I read somewhere, where, and in my insomniac state I can’t remember where…a newspaper maybe. I read that when you can’t sleep, to write down what is bothering you. You get it out of your head and onto the page and then you’re able to sleep again. Oh this is stupid.

15th January, 2AM.

Dear Diary,

OK maybe this isn’t stupid. No offence for my previous posts. OMG it’s like you are real and I’m apologising to thin air! No OK I will take this seriously. After writing last which was about two weeks ago, I actually fell asleep! I know I didn’t write much but it somehow helped. I even couldn’t hear my husband snoring! How awesome is that…no ear plugs, nothing. But here I am again at 2AM (2:03 to be exact…does that matter?) and my husband is snoring again. Like a flocking freight train. I know he is tired and he snores more but my goodness it bugs the shit out of me when he snores. Don’t get me wrong…I love him to bits but I swear after he put a ring on my finger it’s like he now can let it rip and he can snore to his hearts content. It’s the only thing he withheld from me before marriage…I know bizarre…like my farting. OK who doesn’t fart! Seriously…you go on your first date and you’re like, “Excuse me, I need to powder my nose.” Excuse yourself, go to the bathroom and let it rip. After your married and especially if you have kids? “Take the kid for 5 minutes I gotta do a shit.” I tell you, pun intended, the shit is real.

Oh I’m yawning now…I’ll try and sleep again.

31st January, 3:30AM.

Dear Diary,

It’s been a while hey? After the last entry I fell asleep easily again. It’s not like I had anything on my mind that really keep me awake or that I had anything to confess more serious than bodily noises and gases. 

This time around things are different. Oh wait…I hear a noise. I’ll be right back.

4:30AM

My baby boy…OK he’s seven but still… woke up with night terrors and I needed to comfort him. Poor thing…he said he saw a monster. That he couldn’t tell if it was real or a dream. Ahhhh I love the cuddles till they fall asleep but I sometimes wonder to be honest. What if what he saw was real?

I read recently, again I don’t remember where (Mummy brains are real you know…we manage too much and don’t remember tiny details unless they are significant so get off my back OK?) that children can see things adults can’t see. Have you ever wondered if that monster is really there but we can’t see them? Maybe night monsters are scared of adults? Or maybe they are keeping away from us because they have done their duty to scare the crap out of us as youngsters.

According to this article though, children have a very open third eye and can see things adults cannot. Unless it is encouraged to stay open by adults who understand these things. As children get older, the third eye closes up as it is encouraged to do so…by you guess it! Adults! And the school system or some crap like that. Maybe it isn’t crap…I think I might look into it. Wait a sec…I’ll be right back.

15th February, 2AM.

Dear Diary,

Wooo it really has been a while. Why did I end my previous entry? Umm…aw yeah my husband woke and he was asking what I was doing and I explained but said it’s boring crap. I’m not writing anything juicy. He laughed and said I just needed a good root to go to sleep. He was right. What? It helps!

No I will not give you any details. Sheesh…cheeky Diary. That’s the thing with diaries…I’m not disrespecting anyone or anything that has kept diaries since day dot of their lives but have they wondered that with keeping them it’s a bit cringe worthy? Imagine, you write all your deepest thoughts and desires and come back to read it a decade or more down the track. How cringe worthy would that be? I must admit as a teenager I did keep a diary. I think my Mum read it which is super embarrassing because as a teenager I naively thought no one would find it and read it but now that I’m a mother? Yeah I think she did. Oh and the crap I wrote in there…anyway what’s done is done. I don’t think she remembers…I embarrassingly do and am glad I destroyed them. Which brings me back to my initial point. What if one day you become super famous? What if you invent something novel that changes humanity for the better? Find a vaccine against cancer lets say? You die and then your diaries are found. If your family finds them they read them. Oh dear! Or if your lucky they destroy them or….enter them into the public domain and then EVERYONE knows what your deepest and darkest thoughts are. Scary huh? Well I think it is. With everything being out in the open today and humanity being as nosy as it is you’d wonder why it’s such a feat to have your own private thoughts to yourself. And then we do exercises like this to get the thoughts out onto the page so you can sleep. Catch-22 huh? Maybe just destroy the naughty or scandalous entries so when they do find your diary they think you are the most boring inventor or famous person ever. Ha! What? No one needs to know everything. 

I feel sleepy now…I will write again.

16th February, 2:45AM

Dear Diary,

It’s me again. I guess I haven’t been taking this seriously huh? Maybe I should write something down. But I swear I will rip it up. I found out why I can’t sleep. I’m perimenopausal…!!! Mother forking shirt balls! I am not old! Why? Why? Why? I guess it’s not a bad thing…it’s natural. Explains why I can’t sleep. I had sleep issues when my baby boy was a baby but for the last few years he sleeps right through and now this! It was inevitable I guess. Explains a lot…

It is weird when you know something is off in your body and you feel crappy until you find out what the real reason is then you feel better. Strange huh? Not that I am over the moon with being perimenopausal but I feel better knowing that there is a reason and it is natural.

There is something else. I just found out my sister is having an affair. Who did I find it out from? My husband. No they aren’t bonking! As far as I know…women know these things. That they’re being cheated on. They see the signs even if they are in denial (that’s the hindsight insight once they find out). No I haven’t had an inkling that he’s doing anything behind my back…but I’m not blind if he looks at a woman who has legs up to her neck and cleavage bigger than Dolly Partons. Gosh if you saw a woman like that, no matter what your preferences are you’d be staring at her… ha!

Hubby showed me photos of a man, not my brother in law, kissing her at her front door step as he left. It just so happened that my husband was sitting at a cafe across the street from her place (they live in an inner city suburb) on a business lunch meeting. I just can’t get it out of my head….I have to talk to her. That’s what I’ll do. Talk to her.

28th February, 1AM.

Dear Diary,

I haven’t slept in two days. Turns out my sister has been having an affair with this guy for years. Thankfully my niece is the genetic daughter of my brother in law (yes my sister has done tests…sneakily I might add). I nicely confronted her and she admitted it. She was never really in love with her husband but was in love with his bank account. Right. Well that’s her prerogative but I just can’t get it out of my head as to the level of her deception. Not just to her husband but I feel we’ve all been cheated. Makes me wonder what else she has been lying about…

Geez, I really enjoyed writing crap in this diary rather than serious shit. Maybe if I write about everyone else then I don’t have to worry about what others will think of me when I am gone apart from the fact that I am a gossip…no let’s call myself a family journalist or family historian. Ah who am I kidding…This is a boring diary. This is stupid.