Rest, My Sweet

I don’t know what it is about laying in bed at night that stimulates worry.

Before I completely nod off I turn off the television (yes, every night), I  turn out the lights.  Miraculously, I  am awake as if I had just had a shot of espresso or as if I were late for a flight.  The worrisome questions and second-guessing my life's path lead to a dialogue with myself that reeks of judgments and guilt. 

When will I meet someone?  Will I be financially secure?  Am I following my passion?  What exactly is it?  Why don't I strive harder in accomplishing my goals?  Will my good health continue?  Will the health of my family and friends?  What bills do I have to pay?  Why do I sabotage my relationships?  What do I have to accomplish tomorrow at work?  Why didn’t I do my laundry and clean this weekend instead of running around with my friends?  Is it possible that no man will love me again? What will I pack for lunch?  What’s my exercise plan for the week? Why don’t I repair those relationships that need my attention?

Should I get up and eat something, because I’m pretty hungry?

My clock says that it is 3:04 a.m. and the questions go on and on.  I am unable to turn my mind off and now have grave concerns about the level of exhaustion I will certainly experience tomorrow at work.  (...and here come the judgments.)  I’m quite certain that my lack of adequate exercise doesn’t help my insomnia, let alone my enormous amounts of caffeine I consumed throughout the day.  The nap that I felt so entitled to languish over this afternoon might not have been the best idea, in retrospect. 

Stop agonizing already.

Sometimes I think my thoughts as my adversary, as whenever I’m alone with them, self-doubt and an uncertain outlook seem to gain strength.  No problems are ever solved when my anxiety starts to set in. 

For now, I’ll just settle for laying back down, closing my eyes and resting my body.  I’ll breathe deeply, meditating on a beautiful scene…a calm, summer day at a park perhaps.  I will pray to God for spiritual peace, a restful night’s sleep and a positive and energetic tomorrow.

Just One More, Please!

I don’t know what happened to me today.

My girlfriend and I decided to go to AJ Bombers for some of the best burgers I’ve had.  This place is a bar…the kind where you can throw your peanut shells on the floor.  Their burgers are simple and simply to die for.  Neither of us dressed up.  She wore jeans and a top and I wore yoga pants, a tank top and a cardigan sweater.

We bellied up to the bar where the cute twenty-something server / bartender smiled as he served our drinks and explained how to fill out our own orders on the order forms.  My friend and I saw that there was a “Barrie Burger” which is basically a bacon-cheeseburger with chunky peanut butter on it.  We were discussing the odd combination when we heard someone say “It’s really good”. 

 

The other young man we saw when we looked up was the visual equivalent of a breathtaking fireworks display. Of course, they’re always cute when they’re in their mid-twenties.

Thank God I groomed today.

I don’t think either of us spoke for 15 full seconds before she pulled herself together to smartly ask, “Is it?”

We all chit-chatted a bit, but honestly all I remember seeing was long blonde hair, tied back in a ponytail, a scruffy face, and blue eyes.  He, too, must have been twenty-something, and while I allow myself to rationalize why it would make sense to be with him, I am spellbound by his eye contact.  I love when I feel sparks. 

He definitely wouldn’t be my type (unless he was a cool doctor or professor) but he definitely had “It”, whatever “It” is.  I have to describe him from memory because I could barely make eye contact with him again.  It truly was like looking into the sun.

He tried to strike up conversation with me a number of times but every time he spoke, I looked at him and instinctually averted my eyes, all the while chiding myself for not having better game.  I tried answering his questions, but didn’t have the wherewithal to ask him questions in return.  I’m 44 and look great for Christ’s sake, I try to tell myself.  He would probably love to be with me. 

This internal dialogue was intended to squash the countering notions of which I was certain he had understood right away that he was giving me the biggest thrill of my life.

My friend said that while she was looking at him, he was looking at me.  That sort of pressure almost made me collapse onto the floor in some sort of epileptic fit. 

We ate our messy burgers and paid our tab.  (By the way, she loved her Barrie Burger!)

When we left she made it a point to say good-bye to him, and after his good-bye he stared at us on our way out.  Is there a way to walk that would make my butt look higher and tighter, I wondered as I did my best model walk out of the establishment. While I thought I was over my “cougar” moments, he was certainly one who I’d consider cougaring with just one more time.