For some reason divorce has caused me to have insomnia. I understand why I couldn’t sleep early in my separation and divorce. But I don’t understand why I don’t sleep now. About once a week I’m wide awake. And nothing helps. I wouldn’t mind so much if I could get up and be productive. But I can’t. There’s no telling how many typos you’ll find in this post because I’m so tired I’m nodding. But when I go back to bed my eyes go boing and I’m hopelessly alert again. There have been times when I could go to sleep on the couch but not in bed. That was when I still missed D so much that I couldn’t sleep in bed because he wasn’t there. On the couch I would roll over and pat the back of the couch and snuggle in and drift off because I fooled myself into thinking I wasn’t sleeping alone. I wish it still worked. Couch sleep is better than no sleep.
Last night (I guess it’s now night before last) I taught my first ESL class. I haven’t been in a classroom in several years. I volunteered to teach for one school year. If I love it I’ll re-up. And I did love it last night. Teaching adults to speak English is fun because they are motivated to learn so that they will be able to fully participate in their new homeland. I have great admiration for them. The older we get the harder it is to learn a new language. And English is a complex language.
Okay. I guess this paragraph is writing “doodle” number three. I am letting my gray hair grow out, getting rid of the blond. I think this is a part of reinventing myself. But it’s also about money. Those of you who get your hair colored know how expensive it is. I’ve decided I’m not willing to pay for it any longer. I reserve the right to change my mind. My grandchildren have strong opinions about this important matter. My thirteen-year-old granddaughter said, “Nah, don’t do it. The blond is what makes you Grammy.” My three-year old was even more opinionated. She pointed to some of my new white hair and said, “Why is your hair white?” I told her that since I’m getting older I thought it would be alright for me to have white hair. She replied, “Bleh!” I said, “You don’t like my white hair?” She said, “No, but I like dat” and she pointed to my still-blond bangs.
There’s nothing like the honesty of a little child. And there’s nothing like a child’s ability to make one second guess oneself. We’ll see.