Insomnia and the Electric Light Orchestra
I’ve never been very good at experiencing my own pain. When I was younger my optimism was uncontainable to the point of embarrassment; despite having a childhood riddled with very real and very fucked up events. I’d say (without getting too specific) that in my youth I experienced at least 2 or 3 major Lifetime Movie genre staples - experiences that should or could have broken me or maybe turned me into a homicidal nymphomaniac with multiple personality disorder.
For the more high-brow, I’d say I rank about a 5 on the Toni Morrison, Dorothy Allison Abuse and Abandonment O’meter (TM).
Over the years I’ve dealt with my shit, mostly through avoidance and the distinct understanding that I’m not alone or special in feeling wronged, pained, angry, sad, hurt…whatever.
This coping technique has served me well and made me, I think much more empathetic than most. I value that I haven’t let past wrongs keep me down. I feel brave and strong for moving on.
BUT – sometimes sucky things happen that I’m not prepared to deal with or psychologically analyze. Sometimes things happen and all I can do is wallow.
Luckily for my loved ones, I do my best wallowing alone, during insomniac hours like now when I can’t seem to just close the damn laptop and STOP THINKING.
During the day I’m totally fine. I can laugh and joke and plan and work and stress about work. When early evening hits I can play with my dogs, cook dinner, laugh and talk with Lars and watch t.v. I can be happy. But, when it’s time to put my head on the pillow every shitty thought, every insecurity, every worry comes spilling out and I just can’t make it stop until I’m so exhausted that my eyes collapse shut.
It sucks and it’s been happening for a little over a month now. Part of me wants to go all Judy Garland and start chugging Tylenol PMs like NERDS….mmmmm NERDS.
I think for now I’ll just listen to E.L.O. instead, because who the fuck can be sad listening to Telephone Line?
or looking at Jeff Lynn’s get up?
