Because I’m thinking of their song, “Push”.

I think we’ve established that I need to sleep more. Way more. This would benefit me in the following ways:

I wouldn’t be so over tired all the time, that’s a given.
I wouldn’t get so run down.
So I wouldn’t get sick as easily.
I would lose a bit of weight because I would be sleeping instead of feeling hungry and then, eventually, eating.
I would be better able to escape.

Escape what, you ask?

Lots.

The thing is I used to be able to do that really, really well back in the day. I used to be able to fall asleep and escape whatever was plaguing me. I think it was motherhood that ruined me. Ha.

Sleep is for the weak, this much I know is true.

I’m distracting myself, sitting here in the lamp light, keys clacking, computer humming, tummy growling. Distracting myself from something I would much rather be doing. Like an alcoholic staring at a bottle of wine. Willing it to stop calling.

I should really be using this sleepless state to begin or finish something productive. Get a head start on primp day, especially since it’s already on my mind. I should be scraping and buffing les pieds in preparation for the final stages of foot grooming. I should be trimming and filing the nails and getting a head start on painting them.

Apparently, I do this out of love.

Just because I seem one way on the outside, doesn’t mean it translates to what is on the inside. This is likely true for most people, don’t you think?

I am not as confident as I sound, believe me.

And I don’t make myself feel shitty out of love for another. That’s like grade three playground etiquette: 101. Real friends don’t make you do something so that they’ll be your friend.

I’m tired. But can’t sleep.

Tomorrow Emma has two field trips. And a pizza day. Imagine that, eh? She is going to the recycling plant and then to the mall to sing to the veterans. She has to wear red and black. They put music to the poem, “In Flanders Fields”. I have her voice singing it to me running around and around in my head. The pizza day means that half of her lunch won’t be eaten, even if I put less in.

So I should really be sleeping because I have a lot to do tomorrow. And Friday is PA day so all three kids will be home. I think I’ll go back to the town I visited with my mother to pick up a few things for the weekend. Make a day out of it or something. That grocery store is pretty impressive.

I do the polishing and scrubbing and scraping and I remove the hair out of insecurity. Only we don’t need to go over that again. Because I spent so much of my life being nothing more than a fuck puppet and cum disposal and I spent the rest of my life wondering why someone wasn’t treating me that way. I feel as though I always have something to fix, something wrong with me, something that needs changing. On the outside more than the inside because, quite frankly, you can’t see the scars beneath the surface.

I don’t think anyone’s ever looked closely enough to see the outside ones, either.

The baby is not sleeping well. Just as well that I’m not sleeping.

I should be putting the fish, Kevin, into his new home. I’ll leave that for tomorrow.

Not spending Christmas with my babies isn’t enough to win over another’s fear.

Nor is having to go with Rock to the children’s hospital on Tuesday.

Nor is the appointment at the children’s hospital in general.

My disgust and hatred of my own body will never score higher.

And now it’s time to log off before I stop making less sense.

I know it’s almost Christmas not only because I heard a bunch of carols in the stores tonight but also because my favorite sugar plum spice tea is back. Our Thanksgiving is in October, remember…so we haven’t got a holiday in November…and we just fast forward to Christmas.

I wish I could remember that line about not being enough and not having enough.

Maybe I’ll listen to that song while I get organized.

Anybody for a night cap?