Sleep Deprived With Confusion…

I wake up to the sound of my smart phone alarm. I can smell the aroma of fresh brewed coffee making its way into my bedroom. My automatic coffee maker has once more managed to do its job. Rubbing my eyes, I wrestle with the thought of getting up. It seems as if I have only shut my eyes minutes ago, yet hours have passed since I laid my head down on the pillow; it is time to rise, regardless of how many hours of sleep I was fortunate enough to receive from the night.

In the past I struggled with insomnia. It seems that throughout different stages of my life I continue to revisit the dreadful routine of lying down on my bed, dead tired, yet am unable to sleep. As I lie there, uncountable thoughts enter my brain, one thought leads to another, no rhyme nor reason. I try to concentrate on something pleasant, yet that thought disappears in an instant and disarray fills its place leaving me confused without a way to shut off my mind.

Summer has come to an end;  the leaves on the trees are turning yellow, becoming dried, and are falling swiftly to the ground with the faintest bit of a breeze from Mother Nature. My fall classes have started and with that, my brain is in a whirlwind of mixed emotions. Is that why I cannot sleep? I’m in constant worry about my ability to try to earn  good grades: about learning chemistry and being able to take the tests, keeping up with the assignments, understanding the concepts while all at the same time, I am studying for my other classes, and punching in on time for my PM shift.  In combination with all that, the fact that as I lie in bed, I ruminate about the number on the digital scale which I am hopping on more than any normal human being should. I lie in bed and I think about the food I consumed throughout the day, and what I will do to keep myself from eating too much so I stay away from bulimia. I ponder on my future and am horrified by the fact that I am alone.  I lie in bed and wonder if I will ever find peace.

The scale is showing a smaller number than it should, yet my mind is in love with the idea. I’m in a dangerous zone,  I know too well that once the ball is rolling, it’s just a matter of time before the intoxicating idea takes total control of everything. There is nothing I want more at this time than to give in to the voice of my mentor, anorexia.

As I enter into each day, I pour that first cup of fresh brewed coffee. I look out my kitchen window to my backyard oasis. Many mornings I drink my coffee on the patio and listen to the birds who sometimes sing, yet often times screech to one another. It’s incredibly difficult to stay positive, but I have to hold onto the fact that the good Lord is trying his best to walk me through this game of life. I argue with myself over the thought of having something to eat in the morning. I’m afraid that I won’t be mentally strong enough to be at peace with it. I’m always afraid that I will lose control, and bulimia will present herself. My mind tells me that the number on the scale will rise if I give in to the very least. Then my wise mind takes precedence and the fact that I have lived through numerous days, weeks, and months of treatment to save me from this demented train of thought finally kicks in. I know what I have to do, and I know that if I resist the right choice, I will only hurt myself in the long run.

I know in my heart that I have to muttle through this confusion. I also know that some of my frustrations are due to the fact that I want someone to take care of me. I pray that He has presented me with all those who are a part of my life at this time for a reason.  I have to believe that through all these people, I will learn what I am supposed to learn. As lonesome as it seems, I have to believe that God wants me to be able to take care of myself, take hold of my fears with vengeance, and finally be at peace…