the worst kind of insomnia

I can't sleep.

I'm soooooo exhausted and I can't sleep. And now I'm cursing myself for starting that last conversation right as my head hit the pillow.

He's been sullen all day. And I know he was up late, but it's more than that. He had his camp reunion. Saw all those legendary friends from his glory days in junior high or early high school or whenever it was. Saw his first love. All that. He stayed out later than he's ever willing to stay out. And to see him so distant and melancholy today was... well, a little unsettling.

And the more he went on acting that way, the more I started to look at myself, our life, through the eyes of someone who might be romanticizing something else. I guess that's what I was supposing was happening. So as the day progressed I felt a little older. A little fatter. I noticed that my hair spent most of the day in a ponytail. I was basically wearing the same thing I had on yesterday. Our house is a mess. The laundry is still sitting in the dryer. I watched him try to appease our cranky toddler and tried to imagine how his life today was measuring up against all the memories that had been stirred up by all the stories that were retold last night. Then I pushed the thoughts away, telling myself they were kind of silly. But they kept coming back.

Tonight, he just wanted to go to be early. He wasn't saying much. He wasn't smiling much. And finally I just had to ask the question that I knew I definitely should not ask. "Are all your favorite memories from camp?"

"Yes" was his answer. And then it was quiet for a moment. Or an eon. I can't say.

He went on to elaborate for another sentence or two after that moment, but I couldn't listen. In that one moment, the air had turned to lead and I suddenly felt so heavy and sleepy that I had to withdraw from everything that was happening the room. And for one hopeful second, I thought that maybe I would just succeed in falling asleep right then without any further reaction. I held onto that heaviness with both hands, hoping for that relief. But grasping for things like that always makes them evaporate and the next thing I knew I was feeling the waves of emotion that would inevitably follow that "yes".

Piercing heartache... interrupted by fragments of rationalization. "He didn't mean it that way." But he said it. We met in school, became best friends, fell in love, got married, had three amazing, gorgeous children and started the practice he'd dreamed of... and his favorite memories are from fucking camp. So, obviously, more piercing heartache. And more dulling fog when I need a break from processing. Back and forth between feeling that heavy, drugged feeling and that acute pain. I'm overreacting and then I'm totally shut down. And rapidly coming to the surface is anger. What kind of an ungrateful dumbass can overlook so many blessings? That "yes" really poisoned my air. My throat hurts and it feels like I'm breathing ash. And if he knew how hurtful that answer was, I know I could draw out a more satisfying explanation. But it couldn't satisfy me now. I know that's not the whole truth. But whatever he was feeling, it was enough to make him admit to his wife that the best parts of his life happened before he even met her.

And, dammit, I just really need the sleep right now.