Last night, I had a really hard time falling asleep. I kept reliving everything in my head: waking up in the middle of the night, seeing that my dad had called me at a crazy hour, calling him back, hearing him tell me my mom had had a stroke.
And then, the moment that really sticks, the one that really kept me awake: waking up my roommate in the wee hours of the morning, telling her my mom had a stroke, breaking down, crying in her arms. I think that’s when I finally processed the phone call, when it all became real.
So as I fall asleep, all I can do is picture that moment, over and over again. It makes it hard to sleep in my room, since I can see where I was standing when it happened.
I don’t know why it only hits me at night. Maybe that’s just the time when my mind finally slows down, or maybe its when I can hide from other people the best. Maybe I need to process and deal with that moment, or maybe my mind is just being mean to me. A part of me thinks going through it again might be helpful, trying to see where Jesus is in it, but another part of me never wants to have to feel that way again.
And a part of me just wants someone to put their arms around me and tell me everything’s going to be okay.
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