A Restless Night

I didn’t sleep well last night.

I tossed and turned for hours, and when I did manage to fall asleep, it never lasted long—maybe forty-five minutes at a time before I woke again. Then came the familiar routine: staring at the ceiling, shifting positions, waiting another five or ten minutes for sleep to return. It was a long, restless night.

I think part of it is the root canal I have scheduled today. It needs to be done, and it’s already been rescheduled twice—not by me, I’ll add—but knowing it’s coming has clearly been sitting with me more than I realized. There’s a particular kind of dread that doesn’t announce itself loudly; it just hums quietly in the background until night falls and there’s nothing left to distract you.

I’ve put soup in the slow cooker so it’ll be ready when I get home tonight. At least that’s one small thing handled—something warm and soft waiting at the end of the day. And maybe, if I’m lucky, I’ll be able to take a nap this afternoon and let my body catch up a bit.

I hate when things keep me up at night. Sometimes it’s dreams I can’t quite remember, fragments of emotion without a story attached. Other times it’s the simple dread of the coming day. Last night felt like a mixture of both—a blur of unease, half-formed thoughts, and the stubborn refusal of sleep to stay.

Here’s hoping tonight is gentler.