It Strikes Again. 

It rears its ugly head and though you claw against it there seems little you can do. It makes for the strangest bedfellow. For while you emerge in the morning with the body rested the mind lags behind. Hours spent lying beside a rhythmically breathing sleeping man. Hours spent reciting the NATO phonetic alphabet. Hours spent lying there.

There is nothing important enough to write about really although as I wrestle with the demon the words come to me in the night and I wish I could rise and write them down.

The pretty picture of the morning is what gets me through the first few hours. Between motherhood and nursing my body was primed for menopausal  insomnia but I’ll be happy when it departs.

It truly is amazing what your body can actually handle and still function. Adrenalin is part of it, determination probably the other half and goals. Keeping myself hydrated and feed are important as well because otherwise the headache and dizzy set in. Momentum begates momentum so you just keep going.

I always go to bed optimistic the next night that it won’t happen again. Wish me luck.

Bernie

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