Can't sleep - clowns will eat me.

Usually, insomnia is my friend. I sometimes embrace it because it can actually stimulate some very creative inspiration at 4:30 in the morning after no sleep. Sometimes, insomnia allows me to work through things in my barely conscious brain that my defenses are usually too high to allow me to process. But, occasionally, insomnia just plain sucks.

That’s where I am today. Sucking insomnia. Haven’t really slept well since before Christmas, which is not all that unusual, but the past four or five days, averaging about three restless hours of sleep. You can add about two hours of staring at the ceiling, listening to Twyla purr or leap great bounds into my window, hitting the clock to illuminate it to see exactly how much sleep I’m not getting.

The mind committee, which has been very quiet for so long, has returned from its brief hiatus and is catching up on all the things that it has missed as well as making up for time lost in reminding me about what in my life is not great.

Their main theme lately is that I am alone. I know I’ve blogged on this before and I thought I had gotten past a lot of those feelings. But, every once in a while, they also return. I’ve fought off the loneliness this holiday season for the most part, thanks to my dutiful, amazing friends, and had thought I had even learned how to embrace the time alone, actually feeling like I was making a breakthrough in my own journey to learn about myself.

But last night, the emptiness returned full force, unexpected, bitch-slapping me on the way home from a really terrific crappy holiday gift exchange party. Saw some old friends that I haven’t seen since all of this life-altering stuff, hung out with Chairman, which is always a pleasure, and caught up on a bit of his holiday adventures in Virginia. Even managed to enjoy myself quite a bit, considering I was so bone-tired from not sleeping, bringing home an almost not too ugly piece of sculpture.

But last night, as I walked out the door of the party, I was keenly aware of being alone. Walking to my car alone. Driving home. Getting into an empty apartment (roommate works bar-tending weekends). Cold, empty bed staring at me. And Twyla, as much as I love her, is no solution to this.

Once again, I can’t help but think of our Lifetime movie woman who is driven to sleep with the first guy who looks at her with any interest. I mean, it’s hard not to. Sometimes, when I’m at a party like last night, I just want to stand in the middle of the room and scream, “Someone hold me, for god’s sake!” Okay, so most of the guys at the party last night prefer their partners to have the same genitalia as they do, but they’re good guys and would be willing to hold a hysterical woman for a few moments. However, I don’t think that would have done a whole lot for me.

I miss being held by someone who loves me. There is nothing like that in the world. And our Lifetime heroine may find temporary solace in casual sex and passing flirtations but I don’t think that will do it for me. I’ve never been one for casual sex. The most casual relationship that I had that involved sex was a three month relationship with a guy way too young for me. And way too wrong for me.

I don’t want sex. Okay, well, maybe I do want sex. Okay, yes, I do want sex. But casual sex is not in my nature. Sex, to me, comes out of the intimacy of the relationship, not out of the desperation of the situation. I don’t immediately think about whether I want to sleep with someone when I first meet them. It’s actually a thought that develops as I get to know them. Then, somewhere along the line, sex seems like it will be an addition to the wonderful thing developing between us, instead of something that has to be done to fulfill some sort of dating requirement. I’d rather not sleep with someone for a while and find out who they are and what their soul is about rather than leap into bed immediately.

Although right now, I understand the leaping.

And it’s New Year’s Eve. Not always a big deal holiday for me. The ex and I used to usually invite a handful of good friends over, enjoy their company and climb into bed reasonably early, usually by one o’clock or so. And this year, I wasn’t thinking too much about it, other than I hoped to have somewhere to go. And I do. Several invitations, in fact. All with lovely people.

But what got into my head last night was wanting to be with one particular person tonight. The one person who has been in the middle of my insomniatic thoughts. The one person who, for all my ramblings about how to communicate with the other sex, that I cannot seem to communicate my feelings to. I talk a good game but, when it comes down to it, I’m just as scared as the rest of you of hearing the rejection, facing the reality of the situation – he’s probably just not into me. Or, if he is, he’s just as scared and uncertain about how to communicate with me. Again, I am a proponent of arm-punching but I cannot seem to find even the courage to do that. Besides, who knows if he would understand what it means. Not everyone is as diligent about my ramblings as some of you are.

So, for tonight, I’ll just try to catch a nap later today so I can at least function coherently at whatever functions I decide to go to this evening. I have to think about whether to avoid seeing the aforementioned focus of insomnia and just go somewhere and forget about him for the night (yeah, sure, that’ll happen). Remind myself of the incredible group of friends I have, for which I do thank God every day for, and embrace those around me in lieu of the one that I want. Go to bed tonight and remind myself that my Ikea bed will not always be empty and that, eventually, there will be someone to hold me who loves me. I just have to be patient. And try to get the clowns to shut up long enough to get some restorative sleep. Then, all of this craziness will be but a mere memory, caught here on the web.