My insomnia is a sickness of the heart. It is the sadness that I escape during the day, but that I cannot escape during the dark hours of the night, when everything around me is silent, naked and suspended. It takes me by surprise while my guard is down and I am most vulnerable, it shows its ugly face in my dreams and it wakes me up in the dark and in the silence that feels overwhelming and desperate in its absolute hollowness and absence of distractions. It wakes me up, it makes me restless and edgy but without the will to do something valuable with myself too often I end up trying to avoid it by feeding my silly “addictions” that helps me temporarily to numb the feeling, to silence the obsessive thinking. Everything can become an addiction and turn into poisonous and destructive habits, including reading, when it takes over the necessary rest, or eating when is mindless and extreme.

During the day, I escape the sickness by immersing myself mindlessly in the busyness of the daily life activities: some apparently important and other menial and boring. They make me feel better than facing the frustration and sadness of living a life that is not meeting my deepest and truest needs and wants that are instead left unheard and untold, locked in the deepest corner of my heart.  It takes courage to bring the deepest needs and wants in the open air. It takes courage because if I let them out I know that I might have to change my life, break my false sense of balance and safety and possibly let go of something I have built for years without any guarantee of success or happiness. And for now it seems that I am not so brave at all.

So I keep going during the day and barely surviving the nights. I add one day after another to the life that is gone, to the life that is at my back and that is now already my history, and at the same time, I take away a day at a time from the time that is left of the life that is still in front of me, for me, to live. And in this way, I waste my precious time, which is the only treasure I really have and that I don’t even know if it will last another hour, day, year, another decades or more. This is a fool way and the night sickness is trying to wake me up from my numbness, from my mindless living, but I still stay deaf to its messages.

My night sickness is the expression of the deepest sadness of my true self who is calling for my attention, for me to be courageous and make the changes that can free my spirit from this vicious circle of mindless tired daily living and insomniac nights.

My night sickness is a call for purpose and meaning above security and safety.

Sleep will continue to desert me, peace and joy will not come to me, if I don’t listen to the wordless and soundless scream of my spirit that tells me to follow the path of my heart, which is different for everybody and which nobody else can show me, because I need to create it for myself.


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