Sunset has always been my time. I think golden hour and watching the sun dip behind the landscape around you is one of the most beautiful sights. And I've always thrived best at night. That's when I get my best thinking done, it's when I get to cuddle up in a bed and sleep. It's quiet and it feels so calming to me. The world around me at rest. What could be better? So naturally, sunrise has always felt foreign to me. Getting up early is of course one hurdle, but then to watch light cover the sky, exposing everyone and everything to the world around you? That seems so uncomfortable to me. You can hide in the dark, but you can’t hide in the bright light of day. And I want to hide. I want to feel safe in my blanket cocoon in candle light.
All through my life I've had problems with insomnia, but whenever I've gone through a lot of life changes, my sleep cycle gets put through the ringer, turning me into a part time nocturnal. A few months ago there were many nights that I was up until past dawn, sleeping until the late afternoon, and then pulling all nighters to try and turn myself around. It worked once or twice, but it mostly just made me miserable. Go figure.
When I moved to Milwaukee, I soon realized that I wouldn't be able to see the sunset over Lake Michigan anymore because I was now on the other side of the lake. Meaning, if I wanted to watch the sun do something beautiful over the horizon, it would have to be sunrise. This didn't sit well with me, but I moved on, content to be near the water regardless.
Then, lo and behold, one of these nights happened. I was up all night. Unable to sleep. Restless, mind racing, crying about how unhappy I was with life. But when I could tell sunrise was coming around the corner, I realized I'd never actually seen it. Sure, I'd seen the faint glow through curtains after a long night, but never outside. Me and the sun. Face to face. Not over this horizon or another. So this time, I decided to do something about it. I slid on a pair of shoes and threw a coat over my pajamas, got in my car, and drove to the lake. A few other people had the same idea. There was an older woman with a nice camera capture the natural sight. A couple of friends sat on a hill with a bag of McDonald’s and two coffees. Next to the lighthouse, a couple stood with their arms wrapped around each other. And here I am, nothing special. Just a braless, greasy haired, exhausted twenty four year old praying for a magical moment, a picture of hope of some kind to give any small lift to the fog of my depression in the most unceremonious of positions. Silence enveloped me in my car as I watched the sun slowly grow up from underneath and spread its light over the earth for the first time. And I cried.
Night has always been a comfort, a sanctuary, a solace. In more ways than one. Cynicism is easy, pessimism is easy. Depression and anxiety have always won out. It's easier to put up your walls and tough exteriors, and pretend nothing affects you. I should know. But watching that sight for the first time helped me remember that there is truly beauty in the light. Light gives us vision and guides us along our path. Yes, sometimes it is too bright and hurts our eyes, but once we blink a few times we can see things in a new way. It helped me remember as well to not be afraid of the light in my own self. To embrace those occasional spurts of optimism, to not be afraid of positivity and vulnerability, and to laugh at my mistakes instead of cry. It’s a needed reminder for all of us I think. Embrace the softness and kindness inside of you. We could all use a bit more of that.