It's 3 A.M. and my brain is trying to kill me

It knows all the right buttons to push

Before we begin…

It’s the middle of the night and you’re wide awake in the dark. What’s keeping you up? How easy is it to find sleep again or do you even want to? Would you say that your body and your brain are on speaking terms these days or do they seem to operate independently? 

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Gratitude department

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It’s Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday and I am…

…wide awake at three in the morning, a time I have come to view with dread. I have three hours left to sleep and dream but experience tells me that I won’t do either one. I will be lying in my bed, shifting my weight in a vain attempt to get more comfortable. I will be assaulted by my own brain: what time is it now oh god i forgot to send that email now they will be mad i don’t care it’s already thursday and i have no idea what I’m going to write about in the newsletter this week the stuff i wrote in the novel yesterday and thought was so good is not in fact it sucks i suck why does my neck hurt so much i should never have watched CNN last night how can they just talk and talk and talk don’t they know how upsetting they are i should breathe if i don’t sleep i’ll die sooner is my mother okay i want to buy a wedding present for X i wonder what it is like to get married for the first time at fifty why haven’t i heard from my kid is dementia hereditary how many more minutes till i have to get up don’t look at the watch they say that makes it worse what is that noise did i close the door is it locked did a rat get in again no it’s been years since that happened but it did happen so… 

More personal and really dark stuff creeps into the mix: mortality - mine and those I love - long lists of things done and regretted, things I should have done, you get the picture. My jaw muscles are rigid, my teeth hurt. My neck throbs. My legs are moving to some chaotic music only they can hear. 

Sometimes I wish I could do what our dog Lily does: about five times a month she wakes up screaming and then, after we comfort her, she immediately drops back to sleep. One good nightmare might just blow out the bad stuff all at once. Isn’t that what Halloween and horror stories are all about, letting us experience our fears safely in the time it takes to watch a movie or read a book? The problem is that I’m a wimp when it comes to horror movies or stories. I am haunted by visuals provided or imagined for hours, sometimes weeks. The world and humanity itself are horror enough. 

Did I mention that I am afraid of the dark?   

At least in the daytime, it is possible to see more than the horror. That clear light of day illuminates every terrible but also every beautiful thing. I am more capable of balance. I am capable of faking it at any rate. I long for six a.m.

When the 3:00 AM turns to 4:30 (yes I look, I can never not look.)  I no longer care about sleeping, I just want relief. I realize, finally, that my brain is simply waiting for me to change the channel. Years of reading books about spirituality, gratitude, letting go, and stress management has left me with at least this much: the same brain that can conjure up the worst visuals can also summon up the best.

It takes a few tries. I start by mimicking Lily. I follow her breathing (not Frida’s because she snores), then my husband’s, then my own. In and out. In and out. I realize I haven’t been breathing full, deep breaths. I have been clenching my fists and jaw so I release them. Then it comes, the place I’ve been trying to get back to ever since that October morning nearly fifteen years ago.  

I am about to leave Rockport, Massachusetts after a special visit with an old friend. I’ve packed but it’s only eight or so and the day is pulling me out the door, as if it knows how much I want to stay. It’s one of those unexpectedly sunny warm days they used to call Indian summer, a gift before the wind shifts for good. I want one more walk up to the old granite quarry, the place where my kid learned to swim, where my friend is running nearby to stay close to his wife whose ashes are also nearby, where I have always found something I needed even when I wasn’t looking. 

On this October day, the still water reflects the sky, the clouds and the faded colors of the trees that rim the quarry. A mist scuttles across the surface of the quarry like a breath. As I arrive, two women emerge, wet and glistening. I am instantly full of frustration and regret. I could have gone swimming if I had just thought to unpack and put on my bathing suit. 

“How is it?” I ask the women. 

“Perfect. Beautiful,” they tell me. “Come in.” 

I look down at my pants, tee shirt, and shoes. Then I look around behind me. The women laugh. “Go ahead. We’re the only ones here and if anyone else comes, you’ll already be in the water.” 

My first impulse is to shake my head, to be content with walking and looking but I want to be in that water. I want it to cover me, lift me, bless me one last time. I smile and strip down. In seconds I am swimming out to the middle of the quarry in the silence of the morning. The water seems to be the exact temperature of my skin. The women are talking but their voices recede into the distance. A few runners are visible as they jog and pick their way around the rim of rock surrounding me. It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters but this moment. I stay for a long time without thinking, just feeling every part of my body moving through the water. The urge to laugh is as strong as the urge to weep. I let whatever wants to happen happen. When I finally get out and start to dress, the women smile and hold out a towel for me. They say little - as if they know that too much talking might break the spell. I don’t shower. When I get on the plane, the water has dried in my hair. The leafy watery scent of the quarry still covers my skin. In this way, it comes home with me. 

Fifteen years later, after I finally stop struggling in the dark, I realize it is still here. 

What about you? What’s your go-to when you want to escape the madness?

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“My” quarry

“My” quarry isn’t mine at all. It is one of those private places that most know little about. Imagine my surprise and delight when, back in 2021, I watched the film CODA and saw it. One minute 37 seconds in you will get a glimpse of “my” quarry. In the movie itself, you’ll see more. The movie, a funny and touching coming-of-age story about a hearing child with deaf parents and sibling, is great and if you haven’t seen it, and are looking for a reason to feel good, or at least better, give it a watch.  

Our bodies our brains: some links

• Lisa Renee’s recent essay made me wonder: can I scream? Sometimes it is the only thing that will help but is it possible to lose the ability to do it? If so, is it possible to find it again? As importantly for me, Lisa shared some reading she’d been doing about the brain and body connection. She got me thinking about how the brain can help heal the body and, the body can help heal the brain. She also shared the link to the post Baby Got Back Pain by @Sarah Knight that led her to the books she was reading: 

• Trevor Noah video interview and book. I wasn’t looking for the recent interview conducted by Steven Bartlett with Trevor Noah. I was looking for Noah’s new book, Into the Uncut Grass, described as a fable with the appearance of a children’s book but promising an appeal to anyone who reads it. I read Noah’s memoir, Born a Crime, and I’ve watched him on The Daily Show of course and elsewhere. His wit, intelligence, and sensibility all attract me but it is his curiosity that always made me think more about things I may not have otherwise. When I stumbled on this interview last Sunday, though, I found myself sitting down and just listening for the entire two hours, mesmerized by his openness about his own brain and body connection and his willingness to grow. Some of his words came back to me during my long dark night this week, so simple and, of course, nothing new yet somehow I always need reminding:

“When you’re struggling, ask yourself a few simple questions. Have you slept? Have you eaten well? Have you moved your body and have you spent a little time breathing? If you answer yes to all those questions, you can continue to think about the meaning of life and everything you are going through. If you have not, just fulfill all of them and then if you’re still feeling the same on the other side.” - Trevor Noah, Interview with Steve Bartlett

Check out the highlights shown at the opening of the video to see if you want to watch the whole thing – there are also links to sections of the video below. It is also available as a podcast and you’ll find those links within. 

• Another Steven Bartlett interview with neuroscientist Tara Swart about the way we can use our brains to control (or at least influence) our bodies flashed up when I was on his site but I haven’t seen it yet. The first minute overview immediately grabbed my interest and, to some degree, some skepticism. I am saving it for a future listen.

• Finally, I love the radio show Hidden Brain even if I rarely get a chance to listen. I regularly check out the Hidden Brain on Substack for the shows I want to listen to the most. 

Books, etc.

• Just finished: Jami Attenberg’s A Reason to See You Again. It’s got all the Attenberg ingredients: tricky family relationships, a wry and funny narrator and a very big story packed into relatively few tightly written pages. I still love Attenberg’s  The Middlesteins the best, followed closely by Saint Maizie  but this was a great read. It would pair really well with Betsy Lerner’s debut novel, The Shred Sisters which I read in Netgalley before it came out. Here’s my Goodreads review of that one. 

• Still reading: Bleak House by Charles Dickens. Still loving it. 

• Really loved: “The House on Dead Confederate Street,” subscriber

  Jim Ruland
  ’s short story in
  Short Story, Long
  , a newsletter that was new to me and is a real find. Two of the stories published there, including Jim’s, were among the list of Distinguished stories in Best Mystery & Suspense 2023. Jim’s story was perfect Halloween reading for me: suspenseful, funny, dark. Wait, maybe I can handle a bit of horror now and then?

What are you reading? Any good horror or scary books for those who love them? And what books or essays have helped you when you were looking for sleep, relief, hope, or maybe a laugh or two?

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Ciao for now! 

Gratefully yours,

Betsy

P.S. And now, your moment of Zen…he, too, tried to sleep once

Calling for Your Contribution to “Moment of Zen”: 

What is YOUR moment of Zen? Send me your photos, a video, a drawing, a song, a poem, or anything with a visual that moved you, thrilled you, calmed you. Or just cracked you up. This feature is wide open for your own personal interpretation.

Come on, go through your photos, your memories or just keep your eyes and ears to the ground and then share. Send your photos/links, etc. to me by replying to this email or simply by sending to: elizabethmarro@substack.com. The main guidelines are probably already obvious: don’t hurt anyone  -- don’t send anything that violates the privacy of someone you love or even someone you hate, don’t send anything divisive, or aimed at disparaging others. Our Zen moments are to help us connect, to bond, to learn, to wonder, to share -- to escape the world for a little bit and return refreshed. 

I can’t wait to see what you send!

And remember, if you like what you see or it resonates with you, please share Spark with a friend and take a minute to click the heart ❤️ below - it helps more folks to find us!