I'll Sleep When I Die

“I’LL SLEEP WHEN I DIE!”

My favorite phrase to utter in my twenties. I was so proud of it too. I’d stay up till three or four am then be up by eight am. And surprisingly, not always because I had to!

Although sometimes it was for work, but majority of time I was just gung-ho to get up and go run six miles.

From what I seem to recall- It wasn’t at all difficult.

I had no idea how good I had it back then.

I never ever wanted to go to bed as young adult. And noooo, it’s not for the obvious reasons you might immediately jump to, like heavy partying and a young lust for the readily available opposite sex. Although I was living in New York at that age…so those things were readily available.

-Add to the equation that there were no cell phones at that time of my early entry into adulthood existence, or at least not the kind that were good for anything more than bad texting. Hanging out after work and actually talking to people who knew how to make eye contact, were not just willing but aggressive about an engaging conversation, and held nothing in their hands except a beer was probably the greatest time of my life!

Of course I did engage in the partying side- particularly being that lived in New York at that time… A city where almost no one has a car, we are forced to leave work on foot, and it only takes one co-worker to suggest a pitstop for a drink. Not to mention we were young and struggling- living in apartments shared with roommates- why would we be motivated to rush home?

Upon review, my insistent lack for rest did not just take root in adulthood. According to my mom, I refused sleep as a child as well. Apparently at the daily assigned nap time, as my brother snored somberly… I sat outside my bedroom door in a stubborn but peaceful protest. Probably the most adorable protest as I was only six years of age.

I RECKON I was born with just a natural desire and passion to be in a constant state of wake!

Gift or Curse??

I have, for the most part, felt tortured with some sort of deep feeling of guilt to waste any of my life with my eyes closed. Like there is a God above deeply disappointed. How dare you take this existence for granted by watching TV?! There is a beautiful sun/ moon/ rainbow/ cute kid running down the street you could be out admiring. I spent the majority of my life unable to stand more than the minimal amount of time necessary to be a decent human- spent in whatever current set of walls I called home. I always wanted to be out.

Carpe Diem! Live Like There Is No Tomorrow. I loved and lived by all these phrases.

Now I’m fifty.

“I Might Die in My Sleep!” has taken over as the new slogan. Not by my choice…That’s an issue you’d have to take up with the Lord.

“Live like there IS a tomorrow!” is my new and not quite so passionately embraced reality. I miss when Groundhog’s Day was only once a year instead of every waking minute!

Although I do really enjoy the adrenaline filled, creatively demanding rush of coming up with new and odd ways to keep myself excited about my surprisingly close to nineteen thousand days of living…

Yes I Googled that..

“Take out the trash Jen!” so your grief-stricken mom doesn’t have to do it when she comes to collect your belongings should you pass in the midst of a PTSD induced waitress dream. Not to be confused with wet dream. The only wetness in these LONG OVERDUE- being that I stopped waitressing thirteen years ago- yet still subconsciously living server nightmares of me struggling for what seems like hours to get that tray of three ice teas to table seven.

And on a side note- Am I the only one amazed and baffled by the resiliency of the human feet? How do they withstand these weight limits for half a century on a daily unforgiving basis?

But that’s a topic for another article…

I now wake up immediately counting the hours of the previous night’s sleep and hoping it’s enough to energetically make it through the day before I can inhabit another precious nightfall of rest.

I could pass out in under ninety seconds if I dare to lie all the way down on my yoga mat while waiting for the class to start…

I often mourn my constant need for stimulation and the relentless pursuit for random human connection- yet have learned to deeply appreciate it at the same time.

Rather than the short-lived acquaintances from a night out, I now as a middle-aged being, have few, but deeply regarded souls I share these waking hours with.

Not to mention a surprisingly deeply appreciated soft bed I crawl into every chance I get!

They say- with age comes wisdom. My brother knew the greatness of naps at six.

I am apparently a very slow learner…

But just like my twenty-year-old party girl monthly period- Better Late Than Never!

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