Dawn

I’m awake before the crack of dawn. I sort a few things out and enjoy the sunrise...

As much as I’d love to sleep in, I just can’t manage it. When I wake up naturally in the morning, it’s often still night-time. Just when everyone else is allowed to sleep. This has nothing to do with waking up at 3.17 am because of anxiety, but with a disrupted sleep pattern.
It’s strange how something you resolve to do ends up happening anyway, even if it was never forced upon you. As a child, I resolved, among other things, never to get up at 5.30 am again. That never came to pass; I actually get up even earlier, and contrary to what the rich claim, it hasn’t brought me wealth. However, the night-time hours have brought me moments of peace to deal with things I wouldn’t otherwise get round to. Hobbies, incidentally, do not fall into this category, as they require more peace and quiet, as well as a sense of being well-rested; this is lacking after a day of juggling three jobs, so you run on low gear and the night-time hours are simply a welcome opportunity to deal with matters whilst still somewhat focused.

I don’t currently feel the need to be active or to get out of bed early, and I never really have, yet I do it anyway. The cold plays a big part in why I’d rather stay in bed, but for as long as I can remember, I’ve been coaxing myself out of bed with false promises. False because what I promised myself was never put into practice. I’ve never been the sort of person who sat down, took a moment’s rest, or had a nap on the sofa in the morning or afternoon. So I’ll never understand how others manage it; this is, of course, also the result of an upbringing where you weren’t allowed to hang about doing nothing.

My life consists of multitasking; although I’m gradually cutting back on it, I still do it. And yes, I still have a restless feeling somewhere in the back of my mind when I’m sitting and doing nothing. By ‘doing nothing’, I mean: sitting with my feet up on a footrest, drawing whilst having a drink and thinking about everything that still needs to be done.

I was recently speaking to a friend at dawn who asked if I’d got up yet, as he still had to go to bed. He, too, usually only gets two hours’ sleep. Work is time-consuming, and then you have to be creative to squeeze in a lost half-hour somewhere whilst you’re actually already dead tired and can’t see a thing because it’s pitch black.
What’s the point of getting out of bed, I told him. Everything I do, I can do in bed too.

He had a laugh at that, but I mean it seriously: when it comes down to it, there isn’t much reason for me to get out of bed, except to have a drink, go to the toilet, feed the animals, paint doors, wipe floors, cutting grass and killing bugs/insects while I feel miserable due to the cold. Staying in bed, it would be a lot warmer, at least if I think about it, because the bedroom is still freezing cold. And that’s a good reason to stay in bed after all, because I’d already been to the toilet and had a cup of hot water; once out of bed, for me, it means staying out and getting through the day.

I’m still not at the stage where I draw much with a pencil, although it does indeed involve carrying and setting out fewer bits and pieces and would be a bit tidier, but when I’m tired, painting is still the easiest thing for me. Pencil drawings demand attention; is that because I’m not used to draw? Perhaps I should draw more cubes?

And if you wonder: no, there are no eyes!

_{Prompt: see title
20-3-2026}