Burning the Midnight Circus

Unfiltered, raw, unorganized, and unedited. Buckle up buttercups and good luck. It's a long one.

Hello, and welcome to “The Midnight Circus”. That is to say, the spiraling rabbit hole that is my mind as soon as I even think that maybe tonight is the night I might actually get more than a half hour of deep sleep (according to my Oura Ring. Not sponsored…yet wink. This is literally, and yet, figuratively, nudge nudge, wink wink.) I’m a nerd, I know…this is literally the act of dissecting what my mind does on a daily. 

I’m your host, Carolyn Stiles. This is a long story, but since I realize, in this day and age (notice how I didn’t say back in my day because that’s really old), that we can no longer read or concentrate on something for more than 10 fucking seconds, *swipe, swipe, swipe, I will do my best to offer you the “main event” in a short-ish, but general article, then continue on with subsections called “tangents” (at a later date with ample reminders).

To set the mood, picture this: A dark room, and you are floating—clouds, water, on a hammock, whatever kind of floating you want to feel, your choice…like those books when you were younger where you could pick different endings…? Loved those.

…Anyway, a dark room and floating… You have noise cancelling headphones, but not the good ones—the ones that make it bearable to go from painful, or that wavelength at an event when the noise level goes from yelling at your friends to finally being able to hear them and have a conversation. 

Dark room, floating, and the intro to “Sweet Emotion” (Aerosmith) echoes in the distance. It crescendos just a tad, and as it grows, the words to “Istanbul (Not Constantinople)” (The Four Lads) grow more and more audible. Then, since you don’t actually know the words, you repeat the only part you know times two, only to finish it with the quote and song, “Puttin’ on the Ritz” (Irving Berlin). 

AND THEN… add a lazer light show to it. By the way, one of the many things I have learned from subbing, did you know laser ISN’T a word? It is an acronym. L.A.S.E.R. stands for Light Amplification by Stimulated Emission of Radiation.

…Anywho…Dark room, floating, and emotional imbeciles with a Ritz cracker…Lights, camera, action. I’m so sorry, and thank you for playing, but the curtains in the Midnight Circus never close…But before the show begins, let me share what the day was like…

The day had been longer compared to my normal routine, and by the end of the day, I felt like a squealing teapot that just gets higher and higher without the satisfaction of the volcano erupting. I could tell I was overwhelmed and needed to decompress. However, regardless of the hours we had already spent together because I literally work at her school too, and despite her normal routine in which we disperse to decompress after school, she, my fantastical kid, had leeched on for overtime. I took the moment. She came with me to watch one of my shows that is suitable for her to watch.

But let me ask you something: do your kids actually ever sit in a chair? Let me go on a tangent real quick. I swear to god that teachers are the reason we have the saying, “You don’t need water, just swallow your spit.” I totally get it now. These kids have to be constantly entertained, going to the bathroom, throwing away a speck of dirt, or getting water or a bandaid, and don’t know the concept of no electronics or movement or some other kind of stimulus. They can’t just sit and play the quiet game anymore. It’s all about instant gratification, no understanding of cause and effect and natural consequences, and the inability to be still. Be silent. ………..omg……now, I present to you, an oddity. A tangent off a tangent. Buckle up bitches!

Labels/diagnoses…are they symptoms or just a quality of their personality? Are we overdiagnosing? Some are, in my opinion. That’s “Big Pharma” and the red tape between state and religion. Or are we just getting too sensitive in that we feel the need to take everything so personally? We need a way to build up the resilience in these kids and in adults. It’s part of communication. “So and so called me a baby.” Well, are you a baby?” “No.” “They let it go.”

Then, I remind myself that this is a learned trait. We don’t know better as kids, so we learn by watching a person’s expressions and seeing the harmless intent behind being fucking happy. ADHD, autism, OCD, even anxiety and so much more are seen as defects in the norm, but with more and more of us, not 100% diagnosed (although I’m sure I could pass the test) with being on the spectrum…wouldn’t this just qualify as the spectrum of personality? 

But alas…I digress…for now…

Where was I?

Scene set: my mini me attached to the hip for some “us time”, (we’ve had more “us time” since I started working at her school than any other time unless I wasn’t working at the time.), watching the show, and this kid does everything but sit on that chair—flips, yoga mats every which way, handstands on the chair with her feet up in the air, and my biggest fear, spilled milk, happened. You’d think my head would have blown up at this point, but it didn’t…and I was proud of that. I was there to ‌facilitate her not freaking out over spilled milk. I always associated that saying with a sense of fear, and I was able to stop instilling that feeling into her.

I guided her to figure out how to “problem solve” the situation without yelling, without tears, without any tension of any sort. She did great, which I celebrated with her. We resumed the show. For a little bit, I was simmering down. But then…the dog kept licking the spot where the goddamn milk spilled. So my child runs up, grabs my spray deodorant (which I use as my perfume with gel or stick deodorant, because…hormones…*Shrug), and starts spraying the carpet because the dog doesn’t like the spray.

Then, Joe comes home. He starts his decompressing and scrolls while I finish up my episode (which he allows me to do without pressure of changing it. He gets a star for that). He eats, and the child is now reading. Sorry, not reading yet, singing her chorus  songs, the ones that she had just rehearsed for 2 hours. I looked at her like a freaking marionette (One of my biggest icks, by the way.), and forcibly “Shhhhhed” her, like a frickin’ pursed balloon right before you let it spiral away.

She smiled. Huffed. Then, she pulled out an actual book and started reading. I pushed play, Joe ate, Hayden read, and I finished my episode, “The Bold Type” my muse among others. (That’s a different post tangent. Remind me to go off on that at a later time.)

Get ready for bed. Easy, breezy like a cartoon character pretending to walk as if they weren’t in a stage five hurricane with 6…7… tornadoes, and the wicked witch of the south heading towards them. Tuck her in and head upstairs. Wait for the husband to finish showering, then we finally decided on watching another tangent series because the personalities that liked those shows were taking the night off. So we started “Black Clover”.

Liked it, added it to our watchlist to continue, whenever thing one and thing two personalities decided to come back and join the party.

But instead of reading, like I said I was going to, I interviewed my husband, who had been up since 2:30 that morning. What did we talk about? 

Well, let me tell you…Next time on “The Midnight Circus”…

Just kidding…

We’ll be back just after these brief messages…laughing my ass off. I crack myself up sometimes. I guess someone needs to find me funny, so it might as well be the cult that I have formed inside my head.

Anyway…

We talk about some of his past and his relationships, then sleepy sarcastic bickering with genuine joy escaping out of a laugh. And then…there is a knock at the door.

“Mama?”

If Joe would have been in a typical tired mood, he would have said, “This is why we can’t have nice things.” in a playful-annoyed tone. However, he chose to be the good guy tonight, and I threw a sarcastic tantrum while laughing and saying, “You can’t make this shit up.” 

Her sleep isn’t great. Which I can relate to as I always, and currently, fail at sleeping. I dream too much, don’t get enough deep sleep, temperature changes too much, PTSD pops up every once in a while, and at the same time, I wonder if there is such a thing as too much sleep. Should I not always go to sleep early? I don’t know.

She explains she can’t sleep, even with some melatonin help (that’s right….a tangent for another day), and told tell us she was simply feeling emotional, and she just didn’t know why. Is nine too young to start with pre-period hormones…?

I offer some solutions. Try turning the sound off; yes, she sleeps with shows going on in the background. (Another tangent, and another day. Stay focused, Linda.) Put on your sleep mask, heat up your llama, or get an ice pack. See what works. The husband says, “Come here, nickname I’m not sharing as it isn’t mine to share.” 

As I’m writing this, or rather, wrote since you’ll most likely be reading this a few days after the fact, because…let’s be honest, staying on task and following through in a timely manner is not my M.O. I am in my husband's man cave, but western version, so, den while they lay soundly asleep. Because as soon as there was stillness and silence in that room… 

 The Midnight Circus gears up.

I snuck out to write this. Whatever this is. I just typed 1600 words and counting…The funny thing is that I had literally discussed with the cult coven circus family that lives in my head, but I told myself that I was supposed to be going to bed. I was better at listening for a while, but I think that ‌ship has sailed for a bit. The night owl is done hibernating, and I’d like to write more.

It’s ironic that I’m describing all these things like a circus given that one of my questions in my upcoming “The Mirror Journal” is, “If you owned a circus, what type of circus would it be?” with follow-up questions like, “Is it more of an animal tricks, rides and games, or magic tricks and shows, or the tarot reading in the house of mirrors with the creepy psychologist who enjoys hypnotising people. (Incredible trust is required for that, in my opinion.)”

Is this a satire piece? Please hold while I go research and finish this up tomorrow. Okay, bye bye for now. 

…the door closes but opens right back up…“A Satire with Stiles”. The door stays closed now at 11:23pm

I’m on a research tangent…it is now 12:04am…satire took me to what is a rhetorical device. Y’all…I think I've found my niche genre…

Insert random thought here…12:10am

Give my gift rather than give or get things. This makes me happy…conversation in the polished taboo…I should probably go to sleep…good choice. Till next time…

I mean it. Go to sleep…K Bye.

Hey…it’s 12:16am on the same night…hopefully the last random thought for the night…Have you ever tried to sing a round in your head…well I have, and it’s so much easier with the extra personalities…*stick out tongue here. No…close shop. It’s closing time…of course I sang it…good night…again…I swear, it’s like I’m trying to get the last word in, but it’s against myself…

My husband told me today that he and the asylum like the same type of women. On nights like these…I wonder if he’s onto something there…ok goodnight for real now…12:19am. Ahah..maybe it’s because I do …. instead of … lol. Ok bye…

OMG, I almost forgot the main reason I decided to write this. When the hubby asked the kiddo if she wanted to snuggle instead of fear of shooing her away, he healed a little piece of me. Me as a little girl was terrified to get out of bed and interrupt the adults' time. The girl who had UTIs so much that she was tested for kidney problems when it just boiled down to stress. Making sure I went to the bathroom before the movies, before we got into the car, road trips were a freaking nightmare. 

No. Instead, my hubby understood the kid’s needs and took the time and had the patience after having me interview him about his past when he’d been up since 2:30, to snuggle. To take the time to be there for his kid. Not coddle, just actively listening to another person. This is how we teach. By listening, communicating, adapting, and therefore, growing. 

Crazy how today shows so many parallels with the projects I’m working on:

• Enriched Thinkers: A loose creative writing and journalistic curriculum that not only teaches basic communication and language arts skills, but will also enrich your life with prompts that explore cause and effect, the concept and practice of debating, and remind the world to stay curious because without curiosity, we are no better than drones…although AI has me a little worried.

• The Mirror Journal: Asks deep questions and finds the beauty in the taboo by asking the questions that no one ever wants to talk about. Ultimately, it’s the answers to these questions that mold who we are based on morals, values, and beliefs—our soul.

• A paper that I want to write on the connection of Carl Jung’s 12 Archetypes and IFS or Internal Family Systems in combination with what makes us happy. The answer to leading a happy life.

• “Spilled Ink” a monthly newsletter that went live Nov. 13, 2025.

• And now, “The Midnight Circus”, born today, Nov 17th-18th 2025 at 12:54pm. And my computer is going to die on me so I guess I should nap too. Again x6…7. Ok sorry. Goodnight.