These are the words my darling wife just said to me. Well, not exactly, but she thought them and reading your spouse’s mind is one of the perks of marriage.
She actually said, “Why are you awake?” But it’s all in the eyes.
Still, I am supposed to go write somewhere else because right now I’m in bed with my phone hanging dangerously close to my face. Aki ikianguka juu ya hii blog… hata sijui. Anyway, it’s 4 am and the light from this device is annoying the heck out of Eve. She’s all tossing and turning, you’d think she’s a turbine. It’s funny but she’ll survive. It’s only a few hours to sunrise anyway.
But enough about her, let’s talk about me.
Why the heck am I awake at this hour? I don’t know. Maybe I’m still thinking about that awful cake. I told you about that cake, right? These posts go out a week apart but this is the night of the cake disaster. I can still taste it. I still mourn the tokens I used. And I have a headache. It’s a sugar headache. It happens sometimes when I eat too many sweets without taking any water. It’s like an alcohol hangover but worse.
So, my head is over here pounding pounding like this is a posho mill. I’m hungry too but there’s only cake here in this house (Eve and I made another one). But the coffee disaster might have turned me off from baked goods.
Still, why the hell am I awake?
When I was younger I used to think that God sometimes wakes you up at night so you can pray. I think I got it from one pastor or another. Or I could have derived that from the Samuel story. God is an alarm clock and my job when He wakes me is to say, “Here I am, Lord.” Then apparently I’m supposed to spend this awake time trying to hear His voice. That I’d hear Him speak to me in that still small voice. I always imagined it was a whisper.
I thought God was a whisperer.
Like this guy.
But then I learnt that God doesn’t speak like that. And that He actually gives us sleep.
It is vain for you to rise up early, To sit up late, To eat the bread of sorrows; For so He gives His beloved sleep.
Psalms 127:2 NKJV
Which brings me back to my original question, why in the world am I awake, Lord?
Don’t get me wrong, Jesus. I know it’s a blessing to be alive and well and healthy but still… Dude, I was sleeping.
Anyway, Jesus doesn’t need a blog post to know what I’m thinking. Nitamuongelesha baadaye.
*checks to see if Jesus is still looking*
I hate my body.
Well, that took a turn.
Cheki, it’s 4 am. It’s all downhill from here.
I hate my body deep deep down. It’s fine on the surface. There’s nothing much to complain about. I lost a bunch of weight. I’m the fittest I’ve ever been. I’m healthy. I should take more water though.
But hapa juu, I’m balding. I’ll ask Jesus about it later but this sentence just wants to end in “Why, Lord?”
And I think I have dysmorphia. As I said, I’m in the best shape of my life but I feel like fat Thor. Like that person who wrote Exercise Will Hurt You all those years ago. I exercise all the time now (well, not all the time but regularly) and I feel like there’s no progress. Like my muscles are mocking me. I’m over here tired and wanting to die from exhaustion alafu they’re just refusing to grow.
And then, here’s this same body refusing to sleep. Like a computer you put on standby then suddenly it boots back up and you don’t know why.
But it’s fine. I’ll ask Jesus to help me get a better perspective. He’s the one who gave me this body so I guess He knows what He’s doing. I’ll ask Him for abs too because right there in the Gospels He says, “Ask whatever you will in my name and you will have it.”.
I will for abs, Jesus! I will for abs.
Still, I should take more water though. If not for my skin then at least to prevent more randomness like this.
And Eve can sleep better.