Confessions of an Insomniac

There is something about being up alone, late at night. I would still rather go to bed at 11 and be up at 7, but since I'm fighting insominia, I find sometimes, the wee hours are the best times to think. The shadows lurking in the dark, or the buzzing coming out of the tv are like old friends to me now. I flip through channels and hope to find something interesting enough to watch. Having my internet up an running again has taken me back to the computer in the middle of the night, and as I sit here typing, the sounds of my fingers hitting the keys feels therapeutic.

I had counseling yesterday afternoon, and again, it left my mind reeling. At first I hadn't planned on writing anything about it, but after some contemplation, I decided to needed to get my confusions sorted out. I told my counselor about my blog several weeks ago, and he asked during a session if it was something that he could read. I said 'of course, it's a public blog.' I had hoped he might see something differently or find it helpful if he saw my thoughts put into words on a page...

We spoke about it at length yesterday, and his first comment was that it was well written, but he felt like it was something he shouldn't be reading; almost as if stumbling on to my private diary. My immediate reaction was to say 'I'm sorry' a thousand times over, but he assured me that it wasn't my fault, and it didn't really have much to do with me as it did his own issues. He said it could be a generational gap, or that he feels some sort of paternal instinct... I was surprised, to put it mildly. I began to wonder if maybe I shouldn't be so brutally honest with this blog, for the whole world to see. But I like that I can come on here and express whatever it is I'm feeling, and people actually read it. There is so much I haven't divulged. Why is my counselor uncomfortable reading my raw emotion, yet ok with seeing me cry my eyes out in sessions? Again, his issue, so he says, but I take it upon myself to ponder.

My counselor has written a memior, and he knows of my dream of getting my story published. Yesterday, after seeing his reaction to my blog, I joked that maybe I should peddle it as fiction, to which he strongly agreed. Here's the thing... If it's fiction, then it's made up, right? Or can I just change enough identifying details, and keep the essential truth the same? The memoir craze is on it's way out, and I'm just really starting to get back into writing. It's not like I'll have a bestseller out next year. I need to work on my craft, and better it before I'm ready to take on a manuscript. Blogging is only one small part of that.

I'm feeling drowsy, and hoping to crawl back in bed to doze off for a while. I'm sure before the day is done, I'll have more to say.