I wake. Is it nearly morning? Will the sun be rising soon? I suspect not. And it doesn’t because it’s only 2 am.
I lie in my bed for an hour and then another. Eventually, I push back the quilt. I’m getting up. I head to the kitchen where I make some tea. My day has started.
Hours later, I’m working on today’s unschooling book post. I write a few words, a few sentences. I play around with them. I drag the words into a different order. I delete a few. I type a few more. I read what’s on screen. And I sigh. I can’t post what I’ve written. My words are all wrong.
So what am I going to do? I challenged myself to 30 book editing posts in 30 days. I need a post for today.
While I’m thinking about this problem, my daughter Gemma-Rose appears. “Can I help you, Mum? Do you need anything?”
“A cup of coffee would be good.”
“I’ll be right back with one. You rest, Mum.”
Gemma-Rose knows I’m tired. She wants to look after me.
A thought is trying to force its way through the fog in my sleep-addled brain:
It’s okay to be tired. It’s alright to let others help you. If you don’t rest, you’ll get miserable and the misery will spread and the day will be unbearable for everyone.
Letting my family help is the right thing to do. I help. They help me. We help each other get through the difficult times. It’s what we do.
So I’m admitting defeat. I’m going to drink my coffee. Then I’m going to close my eyes. Maybe sleep will arrive.
And today’s unschooling book post? I’ll write it tomorrow.
Image: I wish I could sleep as soundly as our puppy Quinn!