I hate mornings.
I detest mornings. I am an insomniac, so I am all too familiar with the concept of being up at a sunrise. Every morning, the sun rises, reminding me that for yet another night…I have not slept. It is torture to me. I am not the type of person who welcomes the sun with a cup of coffee and a positive attitude. The sunrise says to me, “you are already several hours behind the pack, girlfriend.” It says to me that it is now time for me to go to sleep, finally, and waste a good portion of the day. By the time I wake up again, it will be about 3pm. Too late to do any thing productive. Generally, I fall asleep around noon, wake up late afternoon and by then, life has pretty much passed me by. I resent the morning a great deal. It bothers me. And, no sooner did I see the sunrise, then I am waking up with a sunset looming only a mere three hours away.
I loathe mornings.
However, the only time I make peace with the morning light is when I am at the beach. When I am on the beach, I don’t feel so much animosity towards the sunrise. I appreciate it then…because the water is glimmering. There are people on the shore, starting their day and admiring the sunshine. Generally, these people have had a good nights sleep and are happy to see the sunshine…and I look at their faces with great appreciation for what they are feeling. I know at that point…I can lay a blanket out on the sand, fall asleep under the sun, wake up in the late afternoon as I usually do and feel like I spent the day at the beach doing what everyone else is doing. Lazing about just soaking in the sun. It’s okay then, to greet the morning. It doesn’t mock me so much when I am on the beach. I don’t feel bad about having an insane sleep schedule. I don’t hate the fact that I woke up so late in the day, because when you are on the beach…sleeping until the late afternoon is not only acceptable, it’s welcomed.
But, in my daily world…I hate mornings. They remind me of just how much of my life I am wasting fighting with my body’s internal clock. And it’s a waste of time. A complete and utter waste of time. It makes me feel bad about myself. I hate feeling that way. My sleep pattern has been erratic since I am a little girl. Sometimes, I don’t sleep for two or three days and when I finally do, it is because the sun has risen and said to me…don’t you think it’s time to go to bed?
And I always agree…and go to bed.
I feel comfortable at night. There is something about being awake all night long when most of the world is asleep that brings me comfort. I can be alone in the silence and it is alright. I don’t have to talk to any one. I don’t have to answer to any one. I don’t have to get dressed. I don’t have to wash my face, brush my teeth and go out and run pretend errands that do not exist. I can just sit quietly in the soft glow of my computer and do my thing. Read. Study. Write letters. Watch mindless television programs. My DVR is filled with television programs that air during the daylight hours that I can watch at night. Sometimes, I do. Sometimes, I don’t. But at night, everything is my prerogative.
Besides, everyone knows calories consumed after sunset don’t stay on the body.
I hate mornings. I hate everything about them.
And just when I decide to break up with them for good, my husband takes me to the beach and reminds me why it is okay to fall in love all over again.
It’s okay to cheat on a sunset, now and then.