Day 19: Waking Up

Ann Dee Ellis 8 Minute Memoirs for #NaNoWriMo.

I've never really enjoyed waking up, but every stage of my life has been so different on the matter that it's hard to say that any one moment describes how I truly feel about it.

When I was a kid, waking up was quiet time. As the oldest of 5 siblings, alone time is hard to come by. I remember waking up and turning on the TV before programming had actually started for the day, then loading up a bowl or 5 with Lucky Charms so I'd be ready when Rocky and Bullwinkle came on.

After puberty, waking up turned into a huge chore. Getting out of bed always felt like an impossible task. I was always trying to make up for how little sleep it felt like I was getting. I was Sisyphus, rolling that stone slowly up the mountain, hoping against hope that this sleep would be the one that made me feel rested... then the next morning would come and the task of dragging myself out of bed would just be too much. Many, many mornings began with my mom yelling at me because I had, yet again, just missed my ride to early morning seminary.

In college sleep became a joke. Insomnia consumed me and only DVDs of Rachel McAdams delivering her perfect, "I know, right?" at Lindsay Lohan or Jim Carrey drawing on his mirror in soap could coax me into the world of dreams. I failed 3 classes my first semester... all the ones that started before noon.

Dating Casey made sleep impossible. How was I supposed to sleep when we still had so much to learn about each other? We frequently took long walks around Provo between the hours of midnight and three am. Always laughing, always learning, falling in love with each other, one late night at a time. Going to bed was almost painful and waking up was worse knowing we wouldn't see each other again until we each got off work somewhere between ten pm and midnight.

I do feel like I've settled into a sort of rhythm of sleep, although it is easily disturbed. Every morning when The Aquabats start serenading me at 6:10 am, I slowly come into the recognition that the waking world is calling me. Usually, I turn off the alarm, roll over, and stare at my husband, jealous that he can sleep another half hour or so and already eager to come back home to him.