Do you ever wake up before your alarm goes off in the morning, and then simply lie there and resent the fact that your alarm is about to go off? (This is one of those questions I use to determine if I’m a normal human being or totally off my rocker.)
That happened this morning. I woke up 30 minutes before my alarm was scheduled to do its thing, which these days, means wafting a light, soft piano melody into my waiting ears. (Like many, I use my phone as a wakeup call, though I still have my nearly 40-year-old clock radio on standby just in case.)
And I’m not sure how you feel about this but waking up 30 minutes before one’s alarm is the worst because it doesn’t offer sufficient time to roll over, snuggle in and enjoy several more hours of sleep as though we’re stealing it, or at least getting away with something.
For me, all it does is “allow” me to lie there, awake and pissed off that I have to get up in a few minutes.
Well, that was how my “today” began; 30 minutes before I expected and with an attitude. There I was, lying there, awake but not wanting to be. And all I craved was for it to be two or three hours earlier.
But instead of having the luxury of rolling over and enjoying more warm, beautiful sleep and then waking up five minutes before my alarm (which is what usually happens, saving me from having to hear that lovely yet somehow massively annoying piano melody which, by the way, I chose BECAUSE it’s so soothing and “un”annoying), I was awake … wide awake … and thinking.
Now, I’m not sure if you’ve ever experienced pre-dawn thinking, but it’s rarely filled with rainbows, unicorns, and gardens of plenty; one where we envision bright futures, long vacations and unending financial success. No friends, this type of thinking is a dark, acrid, rat-infested back alley, with sights, sounds and smells that portend pain, disease and failure. I found myself in this alley many times (maybe you have as well).
“Why not just get up, Dave?” Great question, and believe me, it was one I asked myself as I lay there, slowly feeling the anxiety of overthinking invade my being. Yes, simply getting up and starting my day would have likely prevented my early morning angst. But I didn’t do that; maybe out of principle (“It’s not TIME to get up yet!”) or maybe I thought this morning would be different than the hundreds–or thousands–of other mornings this has happened to me before. (“I can beat it!”)
No matter the reason, it was on me, like a damp, cold sooty fog as my mind continued to spin, the phantom call of my alarm lightly playing in my mind as the soundtrack to this quickly developing horror film.
I closed my eyes. 26 minutes left. I tried to relax, even verbalizing the word over and over (“Relax, relax, relax …”). 24 minutes.
I thought about good things, things I wanted, the things that make me one of the luckiest people on the planet. 22 minutes.
Sweat started to bead on my forehead. 19 minutes.
I could feel my stomach churning, like it used to before I was about to play in a big game. 17 minutes.
Then, nothing. All was quiet. Serene. The world, and my mind, had stopped spinning.
Next, I heard it. That beautiful piano melody wafting into my ears. It was time. Time to tackle the day. Time to erase all the overthinking. Time to suit up and win the big game.
And all I wanted to do was throw that damn phone across the room because I DESERVED three more hours of sleep, dammit!
© 2024 David R. Haznaw
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