As noted before, I've been a night owl my entire life. (Mom says that when I was little, she tried not to laugh when she caught me reading past bedtime because she did the same at that age.)
And while I've never been an individual who slept easily and have always been prone to nightmares, since he died, my sleep has become more erratic than usual. And again, as noted, I now frequently arise anywhere from 5:00 a.m. to 7:00 a.m.
And while it is simply one of the many things I've hated about the past 13 and a 1/2 weeks (number one being, of course, that he is dead), this whole morning thing is in the top ten because it is hugely disorienting and perhaps underscores the profound degree to which I no longer feel like myself.
And while I know I will never be that version of myself again and, by all accounts, I am doing as well as one can under the circumstances and I feel myself continuing to progress, still, we'll know a corner has been turned when I resume writing until 5:00 a.m. instead of beginning at 5:00 a.m.
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