There is a time of night I think most Spoonies are familiar with when sleep hasn’t hit yet but all the aches and pains in your body come screaming to the surface because you aren’t in the process of distracting yourself from them because you are trying to sleep.

I call this time “The Bitching Hour”.

It’s an asshole-ish time of day filled with all the hurts but also all the irritating emotions that come with hurting. For instance, right now my joints are aching and my head is pounding. Every keystroke is painful. So do I stop writing this blog post and try again to sleep? No! Because damnit I deserve to write a blog post when I want to! Haven’t I given up enough?!! Do I have to give this up too? What am I going to do if I don’t write? It’s not like I’m going to magically feel well enough to sleep! 

It’s the time of night when my body is bitching about all the things wrong with it and my spirit is bitching about all the things it’s lost because of all the things that are wrong with my body.

Well today I am not going to let The Bitching Hour win. Yes I hurt. Yes sleep is an elusive concept floating somewhere above lake Michigan. However, I don’t have to feel sorry for myself just because things hurt and I’m tired.

My son is sleeping next to me, his warm little body and soft little boy snore emanate a comforting peacefulness that lifts my spirits. My little dog is under the covers at his feet keeping him warm and my cat alternates between being on my lap and next to me on the bed. Well, and demanding kitty treats. I have a fireplace in the corner of my third story room and the bed is covered in quilts made by my lovely mother in law. I am curled up under a quilt she made specifically to help me feel better in precisely these moments and it works. I feel better.

I am starting to get some cards back from the people I sent cards out to, which is a pleasant surprise as I didn’t really send the cards out with the intent of having them answered so much as improving my ability to reach out into the world from within my Spoonie cave.

Eventually sleep will come and I will rest and if I don’t it’s no big deal. I can sleep in tomorrow. When I do sleep in it will be next to the warm and comforting presence of my husband and hero, who will crawl into bed with me when he gets home from work. Nothing too shabby about that prospect at all.

So there Bitching Hour. Go find someone else to torment. My blessings are proving armor enough on this occasion.