I have 2 weeks until I move into my new apartment.
2 weeks of tortured luxury. First world problems.
I’ve got a great place to stay until then. I get to practice being alone and that part seems fine. But it all feels false. I am hugely grateful and acknowledge that my brain is being a big jerk.
I wake up at 5am (or 3am or sometimes 7am!) and can’t get back to sleep. There’s nothing to fret about. No plans for my brain to spin. Everything is taken care of. I just lie there in the dark.
Only 2 more weeks. I got a coloring book. I have my crochet project. There is Netflix and Hulu and Amazon Prime. I can pass the time.
I wonder if this is what it was like when I was a child and woke up at the crack of dawn. Wanting the day to start, but no one else was ready to get up yet. I have to go and play quietly in my room until the rest of the world is ready for me.
Today was a 7am day, with minimal waking in the middle of the night. It’s going to be a good one!