Boy, am I cranky. Oh, didn’t you sleep well? No, as a matter of fact, I didn’t sleep at all.
The great physician, Sir William Osler, once said, “The man who is well wears a crown that only the sick can see.” I have always been struck by that quote, because it just goes to show that whatever you don’t have, you can find somebody who has it and envy the heck out of him or her, because you have just identified the luckiest person in the world.
The man who sleeps in bed next to me looks like freaking royalty. Every night, my husband rolls onto his right side and instantly it’s lights out for a good five hours, at which point — usually between 4 and 5 in the morning — he rolls over onto his left side and sleeps equally well. I know this, because I have lost the ability to sleep. I used to be one of the great sleepers. Anytime was potentially nap time for me. I could drop right off and be out like a light for hours — and still get a good night’s sleep that night. I pitied the people in the Lunesta commercials. Even now, I know people who can’t sleep without medication, and I have vowed I will never be one of them. I don’t want to be addicted to anything.
And yet, not sleeping gets real old, real fast. At 5:15 this morning, I officially thumbed my nose at the night and gave it up, figuring that sleep was not going to be happening for me. The good news, by the time everybody else got up, I had washed a load of dishes and was on my second load of laundry, so as Bill Murray said in Caddyshack, “I’ve got that going for me, which is nice.” A big thumbs up there.
What have I done to cause this? Was it the glass of wine I had last night? Was it the coffee I had in the afternoon? Yeah, sure, maybe. I am so tired — so to speak — of wondering what particular rigid rule of “sleep hygiene” I have broken. What one single thing I have done or not done that is keeping me from sleeping on this particular night. Even when I do everything right — none of which I used to need to do, by the way, to be able to sleep — I’m still quite capable of not sleeping. I can go for a three-hour hike, or run a couple miles on the treadmill, and be unfazed by the fresh air and/or physical activity later.
Melatonin? I’ve tried it, I had terrible dreams, so I stopped. But I’ve had terrible dreams without it, so maybe I should revisit it. Menopause? Uh, no, thanks for asking. If it is, I’m being doubly screwed, because I’m still treated to that delight once a month. Is it hereditary? Well, if that’s the case, I’m screwed, too. My dad is a terrible sleeper, has been for as long as I can remember, so that’s great.
As I lay there last night, I remember thinking, “well, this is it, and it’s going to be this way for the rest of my life, and then I’ll die.” I have positive thoughts like that because I’m a people person.
I even listened to a hypnosis tape last night and it didn’t help. Au contraire, it revved me up! Instead of letting go of all my worries, as the hypnotist softly and creepily urged me to do, I started listing them and thinking about them. My brain was going a mile a minute. So, I failed that. I’m going to try it again tonight, though, just in case some subliminal thing is happening and deep down I am learning to retrain my brain.
I don’t want medicine. I just want what every child and teenager has — the ability to sleep and sleep and sleep. Is that too much to ask? Apparently, it is.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GB2yiIoEtXw
This post and all blog content Ⓒ Copyright Janet Farrar Worthington.