Monkey Mind

Sometimes I suffer from the monkey mind, my thoughts a runaway train at 2:00 AM, leaving me filled with all sorts of cold and prickly anxiety. Nothing like a little something prickly as a midnight bed fellow, all snugly wrapped next to you attempting to steal your blankie.

“Did I forget to buy milk?”

“Am I behind 5 loads of laundry or just 4?”

“What was that noise?”

“Am I a doormat?”

“Sleep. Sleep. I need to sleep.”

“Did I set the alarm?”

“Maybe I’ll go blog about this. At 2:00 AM? No, that would make me obsessive.”

“Am I obsessive? Do obsessive people think they are obsessive? Do other people think I am obsessive? Maybe I should wake hubby and ask if he thinks I am obsessive….Or is that obsessive? How do you spell obsessive? Surely someone aware enough to wonder if they may be obsessive, couldn’t be obsessive? No, clearly not obsessive here….(Pause)….Anxious? Do you think I am anxious? Only anxious people wake up at 2:00 AM to worry about being anxious, right? Or does that make me obsessive? …(Pillow over head)….Hide, I’ll hide, yes hiding is good….Or , ummm, does that make me socially phobic?”

Sometimes the monkey gets the better of us in the wee hours. It is wise to distract him with a peanut or two and quickly lock the window behind him. And maybe throw a rock at his furry a** as he scampers away. Fingers crossed for a direct hit.