Getting out of bed


When people lament the “harsh light of day” – I don’t know what they are talking about. I much prefer daylight to the bleak, surreal, claustrophobic DARK OF NIGHT.

Nights – and I am talking about the deep, deep depths of night – I believe I am at my weakest and the closest to insanity.

Sometimes, actually quite often, I wake up at 4am (often precisely at this point) and start finding reasons why my life is a piece-of-shit – or hunting, mercilessly, methodically through my pathetic mind for stuff I should be worried about. And dear reader, I always find it.


I am a worrier. If I had a secret-super-power — It would be “Worry”. I just might win an Olympic Worrying Competition. But whether I won the gold medal or not – just worries me some more.

Another reason the night makes me uneasy is that everyone else is asleep — as good as dead — and you’re perceptibly all alone in this crazy, fucked-up world. You could be sleeping in a house full of people, or a bed full of people (if you are so inclined) – but it don’t mean shit at 4am when you are awake and they are not and they are very unlikely to care about your problems should you try and wake them and start oversharing all your issues.

I am reliably told at about this time in the night (4am) your body temperature lowers just a fraction. Your internal organs struggle that little bit more and your brain suffers.


A few year ago, when my once-girlfriend went overseas for 7 months I found myself properly living alone for the first time in my life. And in those days I didn’t drink, if facebook existed i would literally have had 2 or 3 friends, my band was effectively on hiatus, and I watched The Bill each and every Saturday night.

And suddenly I found I was actually talking to myself. And whomever I was talking to really wasn’t good company. And all my ideas in this period were terrible – but talking to myself – I was convinced they were genius.


I really cannot tell you how bad for your brain it is not talking to real people: good or bad. Keeping your secrets inside is quite a cross to bare. Obviously there are some stuff you need to keep to your person. But keeping a shield up to the world is just wrong. MORE ON THIS IN ANOTHER BLOG.


By dawn, my brain must be warmer again and I am sane (or sane-ish) and somewhat in control. I think at least in the morning you have a chance to go to work early and fix whatever fuck-up you’ve made or confess and face the music or even hide the facts and plead ignorance.


That cold, harsh daylight actually gives you a chance.

But maybe it’s just that daylight and the consequential activity of keeping yourself alive – like showering, shaving, eating, picking you nails, getting dressed etc – is just a distraction. You have all these tasks to annoy and drive you, and consequently stop your brain from delving into all your insecurities again. Busy people tend to be more sane.

I have very little advice to counter worry. Worry is an almost incurable disease. I just try to keep busy and distract my brain with inane things. I just have a brain that is on the go ALL THE TIME. People wonder why for hours and hours I can build lego or look at maps or play GeoDefense on my iphone. It’s just stuff to occupy my mind instead of all that other bullshit.


But getting back to waking up and getting out of bed, I actually have this to say: do a countdown. Just count down from 10 to 1 and KNOW with each number when it comes to the end you HAVE to out of bed.

This is useful for many other activities. 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1 — take the smelly, drippy rubbish bag out. 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1 — bungee jump! 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1 — send that bitchy “all staff email”. Whatever.



One thought on “Getting out of bed

  1. I woke up 15 minutes ago, just before 4am, Barcelona. I know exactly how you feel. Somewhere in the building people are laughing and talking. This country is full of night owls. It’s feels like they’re in a parallel universe. At 4 they’re at their peak. At 4 I could disappear into a pinhole.

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