We’ve all seen the meme that tells us “there are two types of people” showing the single 7:00 a.m. alarm or the fifteen alarms five minutes apart with dozens of snooze notifications. I am definitely the latter. I have at least five bookmarked sites for wacky alarms that test you with math puzzles or run away from you before they stop buzzing.
I’ve almost purchased them SO. MANY. TIMES. I chicken out at the checkout because I’m a “grown woman” who needs to become “more disciplined” on just getting out of my damn bed – or so I tell myself.
But I can’t. I can never just get out of that damn bed.
You know that feeling when you hate your job and slowly you start obsessing over it? Showing up later and later. Taking things personal. Not wanting to get up before it is even light out to go in to work. Promising yourself you are going to find another job but it never happens. Getting out of bed is a struggle, but this…this feeling is different. It’s not that.
I’m constantly told, “Oh, you’re just not a morning person”. No, that’s not it either. I may stay up late working often, but I love mornings. Sunrises are vastly superior to sunsets and if you disagree you are oh so very wrong, my love. It’s not about the time of day or what lies ahead that day.
It is not about it being cold outside (although if I still lived in Fargo, ND I may have amended that answer). It’s not about taking my one-eyed, bladder failing twelve-year-old dog Papi Chulo outside. I love that little fucker. It’s not even about putting my feet on the hardwood floors that I absolutely HAD to refinish in our home (you guys, carpet is hella nasty).
It’s not even about body aches from spin class (that I go to only like once a month anyway), or caffeine withdrawals – hell, technology detoxes even. It’s not about period cramps. It’s
not headaches or seasonal affective disorder. I’m not depressed. I’m not overweight. I’m not too tired to function even with two babies…we were made for this, right?
It’s not even about the good things keeping me in bed, like the pretty white bedding & big fluffy faux feather bed cover I treated myself to last Christmas and pretended was a gift for “both of us”.
It’s not about wanting to stay in bed with my babies or puppies, although that’s quite nice some days. It’s not about staying warm, getting some much-needed rest from our overstimulated world or even about hiding from responsibility.
This is about silence.
Reveling in the alone. Being alone with my mind, my thoughts and relinquishing control.
Bringing the computer into bed or watching TV sometimes feels like a sin. Like I am robbing myself of this unspeakable peace. Peace from the chaos that our world…my world has become.
I don’t miss the pre-cell phone/crazy technology days, but I do miss silence. I miss writing and thinking. I miss that moment when your body finally relaxes and you’re just about to fall into a deep sleep. That moment where you have your best creative thoughts; Where you remember all of those things you forgot to do or kick yourself for coming up with a witty response now instead of in the moment.
It’s that moment of pure imagination and opportunity for your dreams to become actualized in a world that you’ve created from nothingness.
Being in my bed is my last shred of peace. Peace with myself, the world, vibrations…not vibrators - VIBRATIONS of the world. Raising up to their level. Recharging. Rawness.
That is what I am holding onto when I refuse to get out of bed and forever chasing because it is my favorite place in the world to be – inside my own mind. The most magical place in the world that only I have access to. The place only I know what it is capable of.
I am the keeper of my secrets, my thoughts, my ideas and my potential.
When I am in MY bed the world collapses around me and I am left isolated, but in the best way possible. My bed provides a safety net to just let go and be one with my notions. My bed is my haven.
That is why I snooze the alarm.
That is why I love my bed.