Thought we were

Why is it that when sleep taunts me, exhausted, and cold- perhaps from wading through the cold waters that are my only chance left to clear thinking and following logic engage in a tug of war over the pieces of yesterday still being something between mere memory and  quite nearly  the spare bits of a puzzle found at the bottom of  a puzzle? Is it my body trying to keep me awake for some yet misunderstood cause? Or is it my mind refusing to turn off or to relinquish control to the unconscious ruling the path tht may randomly come up? Or is it the fear of what may be missing should I let my mind slip into the comfort and solace that sleep ought to be? Is it the fear, like the character in Fifty first dates (or whatever the title is) where the lady who was in a violent mva finds her memory completely taken of  what her miind labels as recent memory? SHe is so strongly loved by a man who  refuses to be pushed aside  or lost in yesterday when wanting  today, a tomorrow so hemakes videos explaining the parts of her life that she’s lived and of those she’s come to love. It is a heart rendering  emotional journey and now at this point of my own journey, it hits home close enough to be frightening and yet giving me some type of hope if someone is present as time goes on. But part of this nightly navigation of only partial sleep isn’t my fearing to sleep standing to lose more of my life, more of myself , or whether I will slip from an occasional strange and unexplainable behavior into an onslought from which I will not be able to climb out of. My great fear is the possibility of putting my life to rest before my body is ready and to possibly cause another human being in  danger. The ads on the television make it seem so easy.  It’s all so clear cut on there and the answer seems so easily attainable and effective. I am finding this end of things to be neither. Of course nothing so bizarre as that “slep walking” event where I painted with pepto bismol on various objects , moved things about to unreasonable and unlikely places. It was the total having been moving without my knowing and what to do in regards to the pet care. their meds or my own meds. All very scary stuff. And I travel between not wanting another person to know or to be “caught” in another episode and wanting, needing it to be known and understood by the doctors so we slow this part of my brain’s decline. We  never know the fullness of what tomorrow will bring. ANd now I struggle to paint hope into the still moments of a day, of a night. I must choose from shades of promise mfor a meaningful ecistence yet to be added to in a positive way. It IS more than a wish, a hope. It is what makes tomorrow worth w aking up for, wouldn’t you think so?