I had arrived home from the date rather fakoched. I already knew I didn't want to see him again, but was calculating if I could set him up with a family friend.
I lay in bed, as the clock ticked past midnight, all too awake. I had been yawning vociferously on the tail end of the evening, so I was frustrated by this sleep-depriving tension. The disappointment of yet another failed outing had tensed my muscles and raised my blood pressure.
That evil little voice that pops up at the most inconvenient of moments was chirping: "So, another date gone, and nothing to show for it. When will this be over, huh? When will this second-guessing, hair-pulling, time be put to rest? What will become of you? Will anything change?"
I tried using my methods I learned to sleep-relax; deep, rhythmic breathing, the repetition of a name or mantra (currently "Andrew Weil"). While it usually worked for me before, my body was still stiff and unwilling to release.
Suddenly, an unbidden, yet welcome thought pinged: The Eibishter isn't against me. He is with me.
Like a popped balloon, the anxiety drained out, allowing me to sink cozily into the bedding. I was finally drowsy, and repeated to myself only three more times before I drifted off:
"The Eibishter is with me."