Last night was one of those many sleepless nights that I have. I have always been some sort of a light sleeper since the time I became aware of my habits. I discovered a long time ago that four, maximum five, hours of sleep is enough to keep me going. It may happen that on some nights I sleep even less. And last night was one of those nights. I went to bed feeling tired and sleepy but the moment my head hit my pillow I felt wide awake.
It was a cold night with nonstop rain and thunder and I even turned the heat on and decided to stay in bed and try to somehow go to sleep. But you know how sometimes the harder you try, the more awake you become? That’s how I ended up deep in thought. And in my wake I was telling myself a story, my story. To quote Elisabeth Kübler-Ross:
“Telling the story is part of the healing of a traumatic event, no different from the trauma of large-scale disaster. In your world it was a large-scale disaster, most likely the biggest you have ever experienced.”
But in my world, telling my story is not only essential to my healing process but, in the words of Joan Didion:
“We tell ourselves stories in order to live.”
I need to tell my stories in order to live. There is something about contemplating my inner thoughts and feelings and going over them in my mind and repeating them to myself that helps put things in order. And that’s what I need of late. Some kind of order, some kind of structure. And putting my thoughts on paper kind of serves like the scaffolding that holds up the rocked structure of my world.
Last night like the countless sleepless nights before I was trying once more to comprehend and make sense of something beyond my understanding. While my heart aches my mind lingers on the facts of that day. And in my mind I reenact those sad moments over and over again. And in telling my story I hope to dissolve my pain. I want my life to matter and my grief to be heard. Because my loss is so great that I need to spill it out somehow. All I ask of you is to see it with me.
“Do you see the story? Do you see anything? It seems to me I am trying to tell you a dream- making a vain attempt, because no relation of a dream can convey the dream-sensation, that commingling of absurdity, surprise, and bewilderment in a tremor of struggling revolt, that notion of being captured by the incredible which is the very essence of dreams…” Joseph Conrad