It’s 3am and I’m hurting.

hurt
verb
1. To suffer pain or grief. – Merriam-Webster¹
2. Something everybody does sometimes, according to R.E.M. – The Nut

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It’s 3am and I hurt everywhere.

My husband snores softly beside me. He dropped off the moment his head hit the pillow. I envy him that.

I get up and read to the point of exhaustion before trying my hand at sleep again. Surely if I can barely keep my eyes open in a chair, I’ll drift right off once in bed.

But I hurt everywhere. And sleep will not come to me, droopy eyelids or no.

I am a no man’s land of discomfort. My feet are too cold, my legs are restless, and there is no position I can lie in that some part of me will not dispute within a matter of minutes.

I am an angry, hurty ball of sleepless desperation.

And nothing can make it better.

It’s 4am and I’m 32 and hurting.

Our parents are anxious for us to give them grandchildren. Me? I think a baby might actually kill me. That’s all I fucking need, another reason for me to never get a decent night’s rest.

I guess we could scream and wail and be miserable together. They say everything’s more fun with a friend.

Except eventually the baby would figure out how to sleep through the night. Which is great for the baby, but then I’d just be back to square one. Hurting and alone.

I win and lose a few more games of Two Dots.

I give sleep another try, but failure cuts in and asks for the next dance.

My refusal is ignored.

It’s 5am and I’m 32 and I can’t remember the last time I wasn’t in pain.

The frustrated tears come, finally, inevitably, and I quickly move my aching form to the living room couch so I won’t shake the bed with my muffled sobs.

A long time ago, so very long, I recall my pediatrician remarking to my mother than she had never seen a healthier child.

The memory feels like a cruel joke. Because I can recall the words, but not the state of being. I don’t remember how to not be broken. I don’t remember how to move without a crack, a twinge, a spasm. I am the Tin Man, crying out for oil, but Dorothy is long gone and no one can help me.

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Today’s blog post was brought to you by the letter H, the number 4, and the R.E.M.’s “Sometimes” Seems A Little Optimistic Sometimes Challenge, AKA the Blogging A to Z Challenge.

¹ “hurt.” Merriam-Webster.com. Merriam-Webster, 2016. Web. 9 April 2016.