Here’s something funny about anxiety:
It’s so forceful, and feels so compelling, yet it makes no real sense.
Completely wrapped up in my worries about preparations for a big trip on a tight schedule, I completely forgot to be afraid alone in my big bed at night while my husband was away.
Usually, I (unconsciously) wait up for the man who isn’t coming.
Though I lay awake some hours consumed with fears of forgotten necessities, I never once heard creeping marauders making mayhem downstairs. I didn’t even need earplugs to let the little night noises go unregarded.
I’ve had some success with the process of unspooling my anxious thoughts to their ridiculous conclusions. Often, doing so allows me to finally drop off to sleep at night.
Perhaps I can use this new observation about competing irrational thoughts to do something similar the next time my husband is away from home overnight.
If I have the power to ignore a fear to focus on a different one, surely I can do myself the favor of letting it go for the benefit of a good night’s rest.
Sleep is such a beautiful thing, and anxiety is the mortal enemy of my much needed repose.