Unfortunately, when Sunday ended at midnight, everything went downhill.
I was once again struck by the insomnia I’ve had since Africa. I don’t know if it’s jet-lag, health problems, stress, or something else.
I lay awake for about an hour. Suddenly my nose felt funny, but I didn’t have a cold, and I couldn’t remember if I had just been crying or not. I didn’t want to get up because then I would probably lose the sleepiness completely. But something felt wrong. I got up and checked and I had a nosebleed. Have I mentioned I’m squeamish?
After it stopped, I gave up on sleeping and went to sit in the kitchen, searching my old journal for entries about sleepless nights. There are plenty of them from high school and college days. I always liked the solitude of being the only one still awake, but I despaired over not getting enough sleep. There was nothing profound to note, other than the fact that I had always made it through the next day.
I went back to bed and tried to arrange the pillows so that they blocked the June light streaming in but wouldn’t retrigger the nosebleed.
Morning came too soon. When I met with the Lord, He began to give me answers, but not to the questions that I had been asking and thought were most important.
Why is life so confusing?