monsters under my bed

My husband travels for his job a lot in the fall/winter seasons. He loves his job. And I love that he loves his job. But I hate when he travels. I just don't know if I'll ever get used to it. The time he spends traveling with his job has increased over the past few years and will continue to increase as he advances in his career. And I am extremely proud of him for it - he is amazingly talented and to see him being acknowledged for that is such a great feeling. But now that he leaves for days, sometimes weeks at a time, it has become a bit wearing on my beauty rest...and gets to be downright lonely.

Now don't get me wrong. I have lots of great, caring, and thoughtful friends who love to keep me company during these times when he is away. But it's when the nightfall comes around when I start to get the willys. You know the "willys". The "what was that noise?" and "did you hear that?" thoughts that come in your head when you are alone...in the dark...in a big house...alone. yikes. I was never one to need a nightlight when I was younger and I lived by myself for a year before my husband, then boyfriend, moved in with me. So I am well aware of what it is like to be alone. And I have never had a problem with it - until now. So what's up?

My husband has been traveling since Sunday (in Las Vegas, the lucky bastard!) and returns tonight. Sunday through Tuesday nights were torture. I mean, pure torture. I have never experienced insomnia before and, let me tell you...it sucks. I laid in bed, my eyeballs like quarters (think of the scene from The Blair Witch Project when she is in the tent, flashlight in her face, staring eyes-wide-open in the camera. yup. that's me. without the camera or flashlight.), hearing every bump and creek in my house. I tried everything - sleeping with the lights on, hoping my iPod would sing me a lullaby to sleep. Nothing was working. I finally got a full night of sleep on Wednesday night when I resorted to Benedryl singing me a lullaby. Damn the iPod.

So my point is...am I the only one who is afraid of the dark at the supposed mature age of 27? And why all of a sudden now? And no snickers from the peanut gallery, please. I know Freddy Krueger personally and I'll sick 'em on your ass.

Happy Friday!