I wouldn't lose any sleep over it...

Are you supposed to be articulate at 6am? I'm not, at least, rarely so, if ever. Of course, I'll try, and of course, I'll fail miserably. Life's too short to stress over how good you are at anything at 6am. As a child, I used to be dragged out of bed at 6am for hockey, and I didn't much care how good I was then either. I always thought that it was an ungodly hour to strap metal blades to your feet and allow partially awake pre-pubescent morons barely in control of their own rapidly developing bodies to sling vulcanized rubber at you at great velocities. In fact, it was stupid. There's hardly ever an hour that makes that sound reasonable. 6am is for waking up miserably, changing diapers, or getting to the airport, that's it. Nevertheless, I am awake, and typing.

Zoey is fast asleep. June is getting ready for work. I am laying in bed, under a heated blanket, typing nonsense into a plastic box with an apple emblazoned on it. No one's changing any diapers...no one is going to the airport...that leaves only miserable attitudes but, strangely, no one is sporting one of those either. This morning we're busy dismantling my theory about 6am.

I slept like a child last night. I don't always sleep that way. In fact, I usually don't sleep that way. I'm restless. I have nightmares. I wake up with strange injuries from my tossing and turning. I don't now how June manages it. It must be like sleeping on the line of scrimmage. Lately I've been sleeping better. I've got a theory about that, a much better one than that 6am rubbish.

I let go of some stuff...and then I grabbed hold of some stuff...and then I settled in under a heated blanket.

What did I let go of? Some insecurities, some anxieties, some out-of-my-controlities. I'm a fairly naturally anxious person, always have been. I probably always will be. When I was a child I personally inspected the interiors of every available restroom at Walt Disney World...I didn't ride a single ride. I was too worked up. When I left high school and found myself in a dorm room outside of Kansas City, Missouri I panicked. I used to get sick before games. I'm not at my best on planes. Get caught up in a mistake or error, I'm probably a little too hard on myself, a little too humble. Oh, I know nervous.

I decided to work hard to be more of a conduit for those feelings and not a repository.

What did I grab hold of? My faith, first...the overwhelming feeling that I believe in myself, and the irrepressible feeling that I am a good person, with good intentions, and a good conscience. I settled into the feeling that what everyone else has isn't necessarily what I want, and that what I want is good, and noble in a lot of ways, and I should be proud of what I am doing with my days, not busy evaluating them and placing them on some kind of scale. I grabbed hold of the notion that I am exactly who I want to be, and that the people that matter most, know that.

What's the deal with the blanket? Get one. If I have to explain the incredible benefits of heated blankets...well, you need more help than electricity can provide.

I sleep wonderfully now, That's right, I said wonderfully, and I'm not too cool to use the word. It's how I sleep these days. Just last week I had a meltdown of sorts, a tearful, head buried in the chest of my wife, knock down, head spinning, day spent in a jail cell consoling a kid, how'd I ever get here, kind of day...and I was summarily whisked away by the most heinous and insidious wave of anxiety I've ever felt. My chest was caving in under the weight...I couldn't get a clear thought out of my mouth...I was falling apart. For 48 hours it felt as though I was holding back tears throughout much too frequent intervals of my days...and then something happened. I came home one day and I looked at Zoey and saw the absolute wonder that I get to nurture, not the never-in-time brand of helping I do every day, but a way ahead of the game kind of nurturing, and it struck me that despite the occasionally life altering moment of desperate reasoning and hopelessness I wander into because of what I do, I manage at least one thing, and probably a lot of other things, ridiculously right. I watched Zoey play, and I listened to her talk, and I slipped and fell under her healing smile and her casual I love yous and it struck me that I might never, ever, deserve a better reason to sleep soundly than the one that I have right now. I wouldn't totally discount the heated blanket though.