My 4:00 a.m. Contemplation Club

There was a time when I slept so soundly that nothing or no one could wake me. I was blissfully unaware of sleepless nights that so many endured.

Not anymore. It now appears to be a common nightly occurrence to awaken at least once, usually around 4:00 a.m. And also to have difficulty returning to that precious deep slumber again.

I could blame it on my allergies (I blow and blow and blow my nose when I first open my eyes). Or my bladder (yes, I always have to run to the bathroom). Or my age (menopause has lots of nice little surprises).

Who knows? Maybe it’s a combination of all of the above. But . . . the real question still remains.

What do I DO when I find myself wide awake, but not very coherent in these pre-daylight hours?!

Well, I’ll tell you what I used to do. I used to focus my attention on the past or the future. On regrets, worries, comparisons, imagined horrors – which would only lead to ever increasing levels of anxiety. I’d experience varying degrees of irritation, resentment, overwhelm, and fear. It became “my time to worry,” and sometimes I’d even plan out my schedule for the night! (I thought I might as well put items on hold, to trouble me later, when I knew I’d be up fretting about them anyway.)

Then one day, not too long ago, I decided I’d had enough. I was aware that, as bad as any thought might seem in my half-awake state, it somehow lost some of its strength in the morning. So why not go with that natural progression? If I was going to be up for an unspecified period of time before my day actually began, if I was determined to dwell on whatever came to mind . . . then I was going to train my brain to think thoughts that I could EMBRACE. I reframed the early a.m. musings as “my time to contemplate.”
 
 
My 4:00 a.m. Contemplation Club agenda looks something like this:

1. Awaken.
2. Rouse myself enough to take care of any call of nature.
3. Settle myself comfortably back in my bed.
4. Take a few long deep breaths. Consciously inhaling, then exhaling.
5. Relax my body, relax my mind.
6. Smile.
7. Think my thoughts.
8. Gently allow myself to drift back to sleep.

 
Of course, this isn’t that easy. I think about the painful parts of life too. Hurt feelings, circumstances I can’t control, illnesses, even deaths. Things that sadden me or terrify me. And sometimes I just want to cry a pool of tears. So I do. Because that’s what I need.

Now. In this present moment.
 
 
As soon as the barrage hits, I attempt to first calm my racing heart and mind. Then I try to find the grace, wonder, and beauty that I am able to experience on a daily basis. The gift of living. I repeat over and over to myself that I am able to CHOOSE my response, CHOOSE my reaction.

Now. In this present moment.
 
 

 
 
Here are the current activities I’m running at My 4:00 a.m. Contemplation Club:
 
 
My writing. Often the words flow out of me in the wee hours of the night, tumbling over each other in their desperate haste to be released. I long to capture them with pen and paper before they’re gone forever, but I’m too weary. Though I know few will still be there when I begin the day, I choose to revel in the silent creative explosion for what it is, marveling at the original ideas that I am able to summon.

Now. In this present moment.
 
 
My dreams. I think about the dream I just awoke from, its message, its meaning. What inspired this unique combination of impressions? How did my mind conjure up this theme? Could it happen? Is it a warning of some kind, or merely fuel for a future novel? What is it trying to tell me?

Now. In this present moment.
 
 
My move. In less than a year I will be relocating to a foreign country. My mind boggles at what lies ahead of me – the work, the stress, the fear, the goodbyes. But I also think of the grand adventure that awaits me. As I set out to do what I wish with my life, as I wrap freedom like a cloak around me, I know that I am walking my talk. And I feel happy.

Now. In this present moment.
 
 
My sons. I think about the anguish I feel when I know they’re being tested and I can’t swoop in to take away the unbearable heartache they are experiencing. I think too about my pride in all they’ve done, in all they are doing. I think of the amazing men they are becoming. Though I am fully aware we will each be going our separate ways very soon, I am beyond grateful for their presence in my life.

Now. In this present moment.
 
 
My husband. In our three decades together, we’ve encountered it all. Grief, delight, trauma, indifference, adventure, anger, and joy. I think about our transitions, our path. And the constant willingness to turn the page to a new chapter together, his hand in mine. I glance over at him, sleeping beside me, and his even breathing provides comfort.

Now. In this present moment.
 
 
When I finally awaken for the day, I feel more refreshed. More energetic. Ready to attack my to-do list, despite the stolen hours.

Welcome to My 4:00 a.m. Contemplation Club. Membership is open.
 
 
How do YOU handle the inevitable worries that pop into your mind during sleep interruption? Tell me about it in the comments below.
 
 
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