I started blogging in early high school mainly because I loved to write, and I especially loved it when others read it because it gave me a sense of connectedness between my innermost feelings and those around me. It was a very real form of catharsis for me. I would talk about faith related topics that interested my young mind like Heaven and salvation and occasionally school and loneliness. A year or so went by and my inspiration to write these blog posts shifted to a coping mechanism for my chronic insomnia that I suddenly developed. Seven years later, and after taking a hiatus from blogging to protect my privacy as I looked for jobs, I’m back again with that same intention—to cope with my insomnia because it’s really all I have left.
Now that I’m 23, my insomnia comes and goes without any noticeable pattern and when it happens it’s real bad, like tonight. I wonder if I’ll sleep at all or if I’ll just stop my alarm a few seconds before it’s set to sound and get up out of bed. It’s a terrifying thought because not only will I be missing a whole night’s rest, I’ll be missing the rest of the day because of how physically, mentally, and spiritually fatigued I will be. And there’s really no way of controlling any of that. Well, if anything, I’ve learned to teach myself to hope at least a little tiny bit on those days through praying or crying or taking a walk or simply telling myself, “Today you’re going to hope in the midst of your anguish because that’s the person you’re choosing to be.”
I wish there was something I could do to make this all stop. About an hour ago I took a warm shower with the three candles I light in the bathroom and as I was soaking in the dim light I decided to talk to God, which I really haven’t done for almost a year now for reasons I can get into later and this is what I said, “God, I’ve given up on asking for your help because you never do on these nights, but I want you to know that I’m so fucking tired of this, and I’m so utterly hopeless that all I can do is just keep asking you for help. I have to believe that you’re the kind of God that can handle that sort of thing. I have to believe that cursing at you and laying all my lament on your table can be held by you. I really do hope you hear me and you just miraculously put me to sleep tonight, but at the same time I have serious ethical issues with a God who sometimes intervenes when we ask for it.”
I thought, “Well, that didn’t help,” as my prayer in the sleepless shower turned to yet another theological debate within my own mind. But if God was really as powerful and loving and all-knowing as I’d heard Jesus describe, then I thought that prayer was just as good as any.