It’s nearly midnight, Not so late in the grand scheme of things. Of course I’ve been trying to get to sleep for a couple of hours now, so it feels impossibly late to me.

I tend to get a healthy dose of insomnia whenever things in my life get stressful or seem like they’re too big. Or just when I start to obsess over something. Tonight is one of those nights when my mind just won’t quit. A big part of it is that I’m sick. I hate being sick and for most of my life I’ve been fortunate enough to be largely immune to the normal rounds of cold and flu. The last year has been a bit harder for me, I’ve been knock-down sick three times (counting this one).

I suppose that’s not too bad considering my habit of not getting sick for years and years at a time. But it’s worrisome and frustrating to me. It’s a clear sign that my lifestyle is shifting. A part of me fears that my immunity to the common ailments has somehow dissipated, but I think it’s more likely that I simply haven’t been taking the care with myself that I should have.

I’ve never been a health freak. I’ve never been absurd about exercising regularly or eating right. I’ve been overweight since I was a child. I’ve sailed through most of my life without anything more than a sinus headache or a bit of a cough. I’ve also never been under the stress I have in the last year.

I’ve moved from a very safe job where I had 7 years seniority to a position in a volatile industry where I am among the most junior employees in the company. I completed the Brotherhoods Mystery School and my second term as Magister of the Brotherhood under stressful circumstances and almost immediately entered into another course of intensive training in ceremonial magic and goetic operations. I’ve had at least four financial upsets in the last year, and my car is currently in a state of non-functional disrepair. These are just the highlights of the year I’ve had.

For the astrologists out there, I’m 28, almost 29. Yes, I’m right in the meat of my first Saturn return. Yes, I know it’s supposed to suck. Yes, I’ll survive it and be stronger for it. The real part of it all that pisses me off, is that I’ve got no business being miserable or stressed. For all the shit I’ve taken this year to still be standing is an achievement. To be weathering it as well as I have makes a deep part of me very very proud.

And of course, I’ve been knock-down sick three times in the past 12 months. That really bugs me. A lot. I hate sitting here in bed and being careful not to turn on the bedside lamp because I’m hyper-sensitive to it. I detest the concern that I might wake up tomorrow feeling like someone needle-felted my throat and lungs.

And I HATE not being able to sleep when I have to get up in just under seven hours.