Mice for Breakfast.

It's not as gross as it sounds...  Actually, "mice" is Roo's word for Rice Krispies.  :)  So, over a bowl of "mice" this morning, I was pondering my morning routine - or lack thereof.  I am soooo not a morning person.  And it doesn't help that a mild case of insomnia has plagued me for the last few months.  Bleh.  Melatonin seems to help a bit, but I wish I didn't need it!  I'm generally a very healthy person, which is such a blessing, but also tends to make me feel quite betrayed by my body when some little thing actually does go a little off kilter.

Morning has not been a friend of mine for a very long time, if ever, and I have pondered for months over whether it was my own fault or mother nature's.  My ego, of course, would like to be able to point at some small medical imbalance to blame.  Alas, after several months (okay, years) of denial, I have come to the irritating conclusion that it must be my fault, and mine alone.  Poo.

I'm not so weird, right?  For wanting to blame anything, anyone but me?  Sad, but human, I guess.  Don't we all tend to think that life will be better if we can just blame someone or something else for all that is wrong with us?  Where does this delusion come from?  The one that tells us nothing is wrong with us - it must be something else?  Does that come with this mortal body?  I assume there is a large element of pride involved.  Pride seems so inescapable sometimes.

Here's another question:  Why am I so silly as to think that finding someone or something else to blame this on would make me feel better?  I think I've been almost hopeful to find some piece of literature, some medical opinion, that would tell me I was just a little short of vitamin Q or something.  Take a pill... PRESTO!  Sleep like a baby, waken refreshed!  It's never quite as simple as that, though, is it?  It would be a shame to find out it was something really wrong, some strange disease or common, chronic illness that was making it hard to go to sleep and wake up in the morning.  Was that what I really wanted?

The more I thought consciously about this, the more ashamed I became.  Of course, I am fairly capable of pushing shame aside for quite a while.  Live in my egotistical delusions for as long as possible.  But my cushy little ride down the river Denial has all but come to an end.  Not such smooth sailing anymore.  I keep trying to push my little dinghy just a little farther, but I know in my heart that this trip has to end.  You see, there is mud all around me, and a field of waist-high weeds up ahead.

I now know the weeds are a blessing, though.  See, each one represents some little nagging thought popping up in my way.  They represent every time that little voice has reminded me to "Cease to be idle" or, the big one, "Cease to sleep longer than is needful."  And then "Retire to thy bed early, that ye may not be weary; arise early, that your bodies and your minds may be invigorated." (D&C 88:124)  And I believe I read in President Hinckley's biography that he said something along the lines of "Go to bed at ten, get up at six, and the rest of the day will take care of itself.)  :P  And a recent article in the Ensign about "Opening the Heavens" (August 2009) and the value of early morning scripture study.

And the mud.  That's Truth - the mounting evidence that I don't have anywhere to run.  It's just my carnal, selfish, human nature resisting the discomfort of admitting what I have seen as defeat and the growth that might result from it.  I wonder why we shrink from growth so much? Or, is it just me?  :)  I hope not.

Well, thankfully, I have begun to see a little more clearly, at least on this issue.  And I'm thankful for the weeds and the mud.  Anything that takes me of this dangerous river of Denial is a blessing, maybe not welcome at first, but when my eyes are finally opened.  The Savior made mud and smeared it on the eyes of a blind man once, and then the blind man could see.  I guess that's what he does for me, too.  Smears my blind eyes with a little mud (truth), so that I can really see.

I guess it was Google that actually finally knocked me out of the boat into the mud.  I was searching for some easy quick solution for my problem so that I wouldn't have to blame myself, and, wouldn't you know it, the bulk of the search results pointed right back at me!  Rude.  Almost everything suggested that  if I wanted to wake up energized in the mornings, I should go to bed earlier, pick a wake-up time and STICK TO IT!  They said that my body would eventually adjust and would be more efficient at resting if my sleep schedule was regular and predictable.  Imagine that.  My chiropractor was right - he pretty much told me the same thing years ago.  *sheepish grin*

So, this is not to say that my battle with morning is over.  For instance, I slept until 9:30 this morning.  Oops.  But last Monday and Tuesday, I did get up at 6.  It was wonderful!  I had quiet time to pray and read my scriptures, got to enjoy breakfast with my Bug,  and got a lot more stuff done around here those days.  The rest of the week I was out of town or sick, and you know how hard it is to get back on the bandwagon after even a small distraction.  But, no matter, I'm going to succeed!  You know, I find it no small coincidence that one of Lucifer's names was 'son of the morning'...