I don’t think I was afraid of the dark when I was young, at least not to the extent of leaving the light on. I was a country kid, playing outside as late as I could. I chased fireflies all summer and spent meteor shower hours on a quilt, staring expectantly at the dark sky. I “camped” in the yard or on the porch.
No, darkness didn’t scare me.
Darkness is alluring; senses shift. Sounds carry and are more noticeable than during the day. Silence is fragile, easily broken by a cricket or coyote or passers by. Slight sounds carry great weight. A breeze is brazen fingertips along my spine while skunk scent and cigarette smoke infiltrate, unseen but entirely present. My view is distorted; streetlight astigmatism warps my landscape. Yes, darkness is alluring.
At least it was.
These days, darkness taunts me, daring me to turn off the light and TV; put down the book, phone, iPad; pack away the colored pencils and fancy coloring book. Darkness, once allowed in, plays cruel tricks with my heart and mind.
In the dark, the what-ifs play on a loop, almost 29 years of decisions and actions demanding my attention. Demanding a trial. In the dark, words unspoken fall heavy on my ears, my mind, my soul. Imagined answers to unasked questions tamper with my memories. In the dark, I am assaulted by my grief. Absent the distractions of the day, these dark moments when I pray for sleep are often the most difficult hours of my day. As soon as I switch off the light, turn off whatever has kept my mind occupied, the ugliness takes over.
From the first night of After, I’ve dreaded the process, the work, of falling asleep. Sleep is a complicated, elusive concoction. I have to pause my brain, push through these dark waiting minutes or hours and all they entail, accept the possibility of unpleasant dreams but hope for happy dreams, and prepare myself to wake to the truth. No pool time or pill allows me to simply slide into sleep.
I’ve spent 50 years as a night owl. At this point, I’m going to assume that’s how I’m wired. I’m most creative late in the day; in the early hours, I’m a crabby dullard. Imagine my current disappointment; here I am, a night owl afraid of the dark. Not the dark itself, I suppose, but the tricks quiet darkness plays on my mind.
Logically, those same thoughts and taunts and worries exist in the daylight. Logically. Sadly, logic has lost some ground in recent months. Now, pardon me while I turn on a light and possibly the TV and read on my iPad until I nod off and my iPad whacks me in the face. With any luck, it’ll knock me out for a few hours.
*If you see me looking rough(er) and I say “that’s just my face,” now you’ll understand.
Woods Writes 