Why I Wake Up at 4:00 In The Morning

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faithrhyne@gmail.com

show details 4:28 AM (3 hours ago)

This is a list. I am sitting on the front steps. It is dark, dark, dark. I have a cat on my lap. Another winds around feet. Meowing ‘Good Morning.’ The dogs want to be petted; Shiny paws my shoulder, Under gives a low whine.
I move to the porch couch. My coffee on the armrest. The cats are warm, the air is cold. Why am I awake? Here are the reasons:

Shiny has to pee in the pre-dawn hours. She wakes me up. I don’t want her to wake the children with her restless pacing, dog-nails clattering on the wood floor, low canine vocalizations cutting through the asleep-quiet of the house. I get out of bed. Look at the clock. Put on the coffee, let the dogs out.
The world is still so quiet. I can hear the low hum of the traffic on the interstate. Where are all those people going? An occasional car drives by on South French Broad. Why aren’t these people at home? Where have they been all night? Are they coming or going? Their stories are a mystery to me.
The stars are often bright at 4 am the dark sky lit with points of impossible light. The twinkling of dead gases.

I was tired for so, so long. I’m not tired anymore. The fire warms the house, the children are still asleep. Every day feels like Christmas. What will I get today? So many small gifts to be had. I only have to find them.

I love morning. I treasure time. The children wake up early, too. I want to teach them to greet the morning well. I am happy at 4:30 in the morning. Curious about the day.
I love the feeling of anticipation.

faithrhyne@gmail.com

show details Nov 14 (6 days ago)

So, I recently, due to my connections in the Department of Social Services (I’m a Guardian ad Litem) got hold of the Test Booklet for the Millon Clinical Multiaxial Inventory – III.
A Psychological Evaluation! And though I have no way of interpreting the results myself, well – the porch was sunny, the chicken ladies were bumbling about in the bee balm. It was a nice place to sit, there at the top of the steps. A lovely morning for a psych eval.
I sharpened a pencil to indicate my answer, my True my False, in the margins. I was going to use a purple marker. But, that would look too crazy.
The test began immediately, scant directions and then statements, abruptly beginning in the middle of the page. Someone with graphic presentation OCD would be deeply offended by the haphazard spacing, the lack of a cohesive starting point. They can’t claim to be saving paper. After all, I was holding a sheaf of papers quite thick. Mysteriously unnumbered pages substantial enough to swat flies. I wonder how many people get distracted by stuff like that. The layout was so dysfunctional, it had to have been intentional. And, so…why?
I had already warned myself about not diagnose myself and there I was, with severe graphic presentation OCD. See, my coworker to me that my blog layout is “awful.” But it is so sparse it eases my eyes.
Question 1: Lately, my strength seems to be draining out of me even in the morning. Gee, what a total bummer. Sets a bit of a precedent doesn’t it? Primes for a negative perspective.
Question 34: Lately, I have gone all to pieces.
Huh? Is this a psych eval or a old country song?
30: Lately, I have begun to feel like smashing things.
…Begun?…what if the person has felt like smashing things for a long, long, time? What if the smasher has already been smashing things on a regular basis?
I answered Question 54 a resounding “T” : There are many times, when for no reason, I feel very cheerful and full of energy.

Why not? I often actively choose to skip down the sunny side of the street. I feel at times my enthusiasm for all things everything is terribly irritating to people who are for whatever reason less than enthusiastic. I try to be quiet so as to appear neutral if not, I hope, slightly disgruntled in that weird way people sometimes seemed gripped by a subtle phantom of disgruntled-ment. Yes, disgruntled-ment. A word that sounds how a groundhog looks. And then I think about groundhogs and it makes me so happy that I mysteriously laugh and the person – less mysteriously – leaves the room.
I wil tell you my answer to the very personal Question 46: I have always had less interest in sex than most people do. True, so true. I think I come from low breeding stock. Families where children are scant. We’re not excessive breeders. I teach middle school kids about “the facts of life” and so I regularly recite a litany of reason to them: What is sex for? Making babies. So…you have sex cause you want a baby, right? Right? That’s why people have sex, right?
And then we talk about how the biological function of sex is reproduction. That is it’s only function. It feels ‘good’ because otherwise there would be not so many humans. Hmmm? Tragic.
But, there are also cultural functions of sex that load our reproduction with meaning that almost defies biological sense. Sex is power. Between two consenting adults in a committed, respectful relationship, the power dynamics associated with sex are mitigated by the union’s foundation of mutual, deep, true love for one another. And I think that, among humans, pure love is rare, rare, rare. We try to make our hearts fill, but the heart is fickle and stubborn. We can try to love with our brains, desperate for our heart to fill. But, ours hearts can’t fill at will. And sometimes they fill in unexpected ways.
I feel more love with friends than I ever did with someone I was romantically involved with. Humanity has some pretty intense ways of tinkering with our understanding of some fairly straightforward biological processes. I love science. It is truth. But, sometimes truth can make people seem mighty darn hell-bent. Sad. We’re all so misled.
I want to have shirt made that says ‘Ask Me Why I’m Abstinent.’
So, back the psychological evaluation.

Last True: People have said in the past that I became too interested and too excited about too many things.
Well, duh. People tell me that all the time. My brain is busy. I like my brain.

I’m tired. There wasn’t a question about sudden, abrupt fatigue. The test seemed more concerned about the tired all the time folks.

False
Question 110: I was on the cover of several magazine last year.

faithrhyne@gmail.com

show details Nov 19 (1 day ago)

I am disappointed in people today. Not people in a general sense, but I feel beleaguered by my relations.
I think I need a quiet day. At least a good night’s sleep.
Maybe I’ll give the dog a bath. Feed the fire-bellied toad. Live vicariously through their vengeance toward crickets.

Cortisol

faithrhyne@gmail.com

show details 7:27 PM (11 hours ago)

The reality of physiological stress reactions is fascinating to me. How the brain and body remember fear, dis-ease.
No matter what we tell our brains to believe, those wrinkled masses behind our eyes know what they know.
Our conscious intention of belief is like a beep, a blip, the call of a single, slow bird that flies at the edge of a flock bigger than we can imagine. Those birds are certain in their hollow bones and their patterns of flight are older than we ever recall being.

I still try to draw everyday. However, it is remarkable to me that the relatively simple act of deciding I would sketch an image everyday has, quite frankly, gradually blown the lid off my vault of ideas. I have been emailing myself like mad. I would estimate that 75-90% of the written content of this blog is emails to myself. I can write pages on a BlackBerry. I stumbled across a means of creative production that works for me. Lucky girl. Drawing is a little secondary at this point. I imagine that it will vacillate between primary and secondary. I have been at this for months now. I am having fun.

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