I love sleep.
And for the last couple years of my life, I've been doing a significant amount of it. I feel like right now I sleep as much as my body needs, and that feels great!
I haven't always cared so much about sleep, though, and I guess I'm thinking more about it now because of the warnings of sleep deficits that come with babies. So it got me thinking...
Yesterday morning I woke up and got out of bed feeling amazing. Rejuvenated, awake, happy, and ready to be productive. And I felt grateful, because mornings haven't always been so pleasant. Which got me remembering those other mornings...
...Groaning as the alarm goes off and rolling out from under the covers onto the floor to stretch or pray, or grope for my clothes in the dark. Stumbling to the bathroom and downstairs for some breakfast or something to wake me up. Being blinded by the bright lights when I turned them on, because I was always up before the sun.
But I did it! I got up all those mornings, and rarely felt so negative about it as I often do now when I have to get up early. WHY? How was I happy about it?
As I think about it now, I think it was because being awake was more exciting than being asleep! As a kid there are always exciting adventures awaiting you.
As a teen, it was the prospect of making money from our early morning paper route that kept me motivated, or going to swim practice, or jazz band. Being with people and doing exciting things. At the time, the drudgery of getting out of bed wasn't so much drudgery as just a means to an end to be dealt with as painlessly as possible. There were many high school and university days that I lacked sufficient sleep, but it was just more exciting to be awake.
I wonder what happened? Is my life not as exciting anymore?