Dear Diary: Sleepless Nights

Feb 2020

Rants that keep me awake at night, have no birth in reality, just nibbling away at my brain, like the mice gnawing on the drywall that was once the protective ceiling of a place I had years ago, called home. I fear the mush inside my head will be found, in a bucket of muck; like the chipmunk, the children found in the yard today. The little guy apparently fell in helplessly and then drowned from the melted snow that fell upon him. I often wonder what ultimate evil or thought will drown my helpless brain, bringing the whole to its demise. Funny, how one or two stray thoughts can overwhelm a person, so mightily that it begins to draw out all negativity. Dwelling there too long can result only in a self-destruction mindset, who then benefits?

At least it appears the winter storms have finally passed. With the chaos of life, I have nearly noticed. Everything is transforming to liquid under the warmth of the sun. Yet cannot be called to the heavens, due to the coldness that still lingers, keeping it captive here on earth, a lot like us. We have finally become free from the storms but cannot rise again due to the controlled atmosphere about us. What is it that binds us, what is it that keeps us captive, what is it that withholds the simplicity of happiness and contentment? Can it be as simple as the coldness within, that we allow to remain?

I often find myself complaining about the lack of friends and companionship. I blame others for pushing me away from them, but maybe it is the demons within my own, that builds a barricade against people. Maybe my ex is not to blame, maybe it is not a significant other to blame, maybe I and only I, hold the key to an existence of loneliness. Is it possible to seek and desire too hard? Maybe this is just another one of those deep depression, pity-party, suicidal, crazy, lonely nights. A night of overwhelmed emotion, when the past covers the mind with a film, too thick to break through. If I could just pierce the membrane enough to see light. Hand me a knife, maybe I can cut a deep enough gash to feel the warmth of light again. If I could only penetrate the boundary enough to push sound waves through, maybe someone will hear my cries. And yet, what if I have, what if my cries have reached out beyond and the absent, so-called, friends that could not, care not, to hear? Have I been too busy in my own battles to recognize assistance needed, pleaded? Selfish; something I never in my wildest dreams, believed I could ever be labeled. Has this unfavorable, unattractive, characteristic infected my soul unknowingly?

March 2020

Well it seems this damn Coronavirus is in full attack mode across the beautiful states of America. It just got real, sneaking in on someone’s clothes, breath, or skin, however it came to burrow its foothold into the depths of our society, it is here, nevertheless. Just my luck, I have been sick, myself for weeks now, short of breath one of my biggest issues, I now find is also one of the great Coronavirus symptoms. The only good thing is, I haven’t been running a fever. Three trips to the doctor, two rounds of two different antibiotics, two different inhalers, breathing treatments, steroids, etc. Finally, the doc diagnoses me with COPD. Are you kidding me?! COPD? Really? I am pretty positive COPD doesn’t include plugged ears, swollen glands, sore throat, etc. In addition, my daughter was treated in the very examination room I was, at the same time (by a different doctor) for a sinus, ear, and upper respiratory infection. She continued saying I had the same thing. Yet my doctor, who clearly had her mind made up on my diagnosis before she even walked into the room, was adamant I had COPD. We have had the exact same symptoms; I have just had mine longer. ‘Ummmm, hey doc, are you sure we just haven’t been passing the same old sinus crud back and forth?’ 

Well doesn’t seem to matter at this point, we are both doing well now. I was concerned because I finally found a job that I think I will really like, then our Governor told us all to stay home. I have been blessed however, that they are letting me train and work from home, at least I’m still going to get a paycheck which is more than so many other Americans.

While everyone seems to be going crazy with this quarantine, I am loving the time I am getting with my youngest daughter. We got a new puppy, I am creating new recipes, and we have been taking walks and we play games together at night. While the world is falling apart around us, I feel God is moving and protecting my little family, despite my past unfaithfulness to Him. My only heartache right now is the continued absence and neglect of my oldest daughter, who seems to have found a new family and home in which she would rather be quarantined with, and yes, that is my biggest heartbreak. Being a parent has brought the most joy in my life, incongruously also the worst pain.

I take the dogs out in the backyard to do their business, as they sniff and play around, I sit under the gazebo peering off into the shallow, dark woods behind the house. I still have a bit of pressure on my chest from whatever it is we have contracted, which shortens my breaths in this night air. I try to imagine what my new co-workers look like, what type of chairs/desks my students will have, what brand of computer they will equip me with for my own desk and office.

My mind always wanders back to and seems to get stuck in the absence of my oldest daughter. I try to imagine what she is doing with her boyfriend’s family, do they gather around a table of games or a fire pit in the yard, like we all used to?

           Our older dog starts a low growl towards the wooded area behind our fence, the pup runs over and sits beside him to listen and watch. Being a bit nervous I take a couple short gasps of air moving slowly over next to them to get a better view. I see two dark shadowy figures moving through the tree line. Walking a bit oddly, stumbling a tad perhaps, who is that, I wonder. I hear hard human-like coughing from the woods, accompanied by a few short groans. Both of our dogs begin to growl louder and defensively deeper. The brush is being disturbed, branches moving and smashing against, against what? Against the trees, people, animals? Then shadowy figures begin moving faster and faster right towards our property, the sound of running footsteps seem to be slightly behind the action of their movements.

 “Who’s there?” I shout, by this time our dogs are barking and running towards the shadowy figures with the fence between them. I shout out to the dogs telling them to come back. For second in time my mind conjures up a vision of the undead running at us full speed. Then the two figures come into the light of the lamppost. Two teenage boys, apparently a little intoxicated appear under the dim light, giggling like schoolgirls. I chased them off, quite frankly a little bit pissed for the scare they gave me, yet also amused at them and my own crazy imagination. I cannot seem to stop myself from visions of horror movies depicting the same infectious virus scenario, our world is facing right now.

April 8, 2020

It's midnight, I slip outside on the back stoop alone, so no one sees the tears. I close my eyes, as the warm breeze caresses my skin. The sounds of the city street are odd on this night; make me feel like I'm in a jungle. Two frogs chat across the neighboring lawns. Once in a while a squall interrupts their conversation, as if a monkey is trying to join in.

I look to the sky in a childish, desperate attempt to make a wish. Just my luck, I haven't wished upon a star for twenty years or more and the one night I try; the stars all hide behind the clouds that are bringing yet another storm my way. Silly for me to think the extremely strange, long, vertical, stick-like cloud moving across the moon may be a twister in the sky. As a last resort I look to the moon, the man in the moon has disappeared and forsaken me too. So I call to God beyond it all, beyond the clouds, stars and moon, in hopes He will still listen.

I am then irritatingly distracted from my prayer and tears by the constant drilling taking place over my head. Just like everything else in my life the wood bees are gnawing away at the last sense of security I have. I then realize, the unusual gossip amongst the wild in the city, this evening is a warning, their call of emergency. Another storm will collide with my present situation and I need to get focused so I can be ready. Find something solid, strong and trustworthy to embrace, until the violence of the winds cease.

After launching a few pieces of my daughter's sidewalk chalk at the wood frame, awning hanging above; in an attempt to quiet the bees for a moment. I try to collect my thoughts, redirect my thinking. Exhausted and discouraged, I slowly take heed to the warning. I need to find my strength again and seek shelter, while praying the damage will be minimal this time around. I go back into the house, closing the screen behind me yet leaving the French door slightly ajar to enjoy the breeze from the warmth of my bed, while keeping a watchful eye for the storm.

My Dad sent me a text message, making sure he had done everything in his power to reach me on behalf of my panicked Mother. She had called just a little earlier to inform me of the impending violent threat whirling our way. She had left a nervous voicemail, as I allowed her call to go to voicemail, because we had all already gone to bed. I was trying to make a valiant effort to go to bed at a reasonable hour so I would be on my game in the mornings. Trying to make a good impression on a new boss is difficult enough but attempting to do it through complete contact of technology in this new no-contact world is even more tedious.

Due to their many attempts to contact me, feeling uneasy, I just sat in bed. I skimmed over social media feeds, looking up local news on the internet, while trying to surf channels, and remotely spin the old-fashioned antenna wedged in the bench outback for reception, searching for some kind of warning or update. My anxiety continued to build. My oldest daughter is staying somewhere and with someone I am unfamiliar with. My youngest daughter, asleep in the living room, on the couch. The large bay window just feet from her head, while a secondary standard window giving little barricade to the outside world at the end of the couch, just over her feet.

Just as sure as I am real and writing this now for remembrance and record, the storms whirled in what seemed to be nearly as strong as the twister that swept up Dorothy’s house. We as children, whether adults or not, never seem to want to trust and believe in the one person who has cared, loved and protected us all our lives, our mother. Somehow or another no matter what time period, we falsely anticipate we are just naturally born more intellectual than the one who brought us here. But yes, as usual Momma was right. I began to truly take heed to her warnings and those of nature just outside, squinting to glare outside at the lightning and hail. My daughter nearly gives me heart failure by slipping in my room and bouncing down on my bed. Does she not know that surprising a middle-aged woman, with possible COPD, or maybe even this Coronavirus crud could actually stop her Momma’s heart?!     

She told me the winds and thunder had awakened her and now that she knows what it is she’s going back to sleep on the couch. On the couch?! Near those big dangerous windows, oh I don't think so. I made her grab her phone or whatever she felt she needed; I grabbed a nice fluffy blanket to lay on the shower floor. It was in the middle of the house and reinforced with additional studs for the framework of the shower, the safest place I could think of. We met in the front of the toilet and I spread the fluffy, thick blanket down in the shower for her to sit on. She ran back out, grabbed the oldest dog and back into the shower stall. “I’m not going in there without him!” She exclaimed.

Here in West Virginia tornados are never really much of a threat, not any taken seriously anyway. Yet in these early morning hours, I felt an unignorable itch to truly be cautious. The pup was in her baby pen, snuggly secured near my bed, I knew as rambunctious she was that it was probably the safest place for her. I sat down in front of the shower aside my daughter as the cat made her way in the tiny room with us. During these morning hours of stress and fear I waited to hear the warning sirens go off. Those damn things go off for testing every third Wednesday morning, but not during the dawn of this storm. Neither of us got the usual annoying, beeping warnings over our cell phones, and all evening despite my searches, not one emergency broadcast warning came through. It seemed one of two things was occurring: one, it’s a false alarm or two, everyone has been so busy and wrapped up in the hype of this modern-day plague that someone dropped the ball on everything else.

We huddled down, she randomly checked her phone, as I bowed my head and prayed to God once again. We listened as part of the awning outback ripped off the porch, the sounds of thunder and lightning crackling around us, were no match to the boisterous thuds, bangs, and clanks of buildings, vehicles, trees and structures nearby. The winds and rain died down, once I was convinced, we were not in the eye but the storm had now become a passerby, we exited our little haven. We looked out windows on each side of the house and doors on each end. It appears in the darkness of the early morning, cloud ridden sky, we had survived unscathed. Thankful and more comfortable we try to bed down where we were when it all began. Me in my bed, and my daughter on the couch so she could continue her sweet slumber with the cat and our elder dog.

April 9, 2020

7:45 AM - The instrumental theme from Psycho, screams at me from my phone, yes, my alarm! I knew I had to set something unsettling that was screeching, loud, and disturbing to bring me out of whatever nightmare I had quickly, but deeply slipped into. After all, I am still trying to impress a boss that I have never met, with 8:00 AM text messages, stating, ‘I’m awake and at it!’ to a group of coworkers, I have never seen.

I take the dogs out to potty, find the antenna in the yard and re-erect it while the k-9’s do their deeds. Back inside I slip in to check on my teenage baby still snoozing, put on some coffee and turn on the news. I learned simultaneously via the boob tube and social media on my phone just how lucky we had been. Some friends nearby had trees take out the backside of their homes, more trunks uprooted and laid across the roads, power outages, streets flooded, etc. But the one that truly made me feel that God heard and protected us; the very large business that had been unroofed by the winds and collapsed under mother natures’ fierce powers, just mere blocks from our haven.

I know this will not be the last storm to hit home. However, I recognize I need to conquer each gust of wind bravely piece of hail, maintain my faith and stay steadfast in prayer. While keeping a watchful eye for the sun, as it will shine again and there will always be a time to rebuild.