Consider the Night
(double from my website wordpress)
I generally like to think of myself as a (hopefully) good-natured and (usually) even-tempered kind of person. If I was a horse, I would be the steady sort on which kindly uncles would place children for easy rides around the paddock and afterward they would pat my nose and I would gently lip sugar (sugar is a must!) off their tiny, sticky hands. However, the thing that makes me want to run crazed around the room, foam-flecked and kicking everything into oblivion, is INSOMNIA. (I would like to thank Stephen King for making it a big, red word with raised letters that are coated in a mixture of sulfuric acid and children’s tears. Thanks, Stevie.)
My problem is this. I cannot GO to sleep. I must FALL asleep. My mind generally goes along all day at jaunty clip, getting me through whatever I’m doing with relative clarity and focus. I rather like these happy daylight times. But when the sun sets, it morphs into some evil, werewolf-like thing, ready to seize sleep from my tender grasp with giant gnashing jaws. Suddenly, everything I’ve ever repressed in my entire LIFE comes barreling at me in a slideshow of contemplation, confusion, and worry. I am aware of my tendency to over-think EVERYTHING, so I’ve got a system out to keep the mind-wolf at bay so that I can slip off, ninja-style, into dreamland.
TV. You know how you’ve been told your entire life that TV makes you stupid and rots your brain. All true. I love TV. But, I know the brain-rot theory is absolutely true because the second you put me in front of a rerun of The Golden Girls or my beloved Simpsons, my brain goes completely flat-line. Seriously. Shouting hello in there would bring an echo that would reverberate for miles. This is not to say that TV CAN’T make you think (LOST, anyone?), but, thinking is not necessary. My poor husband, who is of the normal-folk who can just flip off the light and march right into dreamland with waving flags and blaring trumpet, has had to adapt to me crawling in on silent toes, a refugee trailing in on the heels of King of the Hill and Home Improvement.
However. What happens when I wake up in the middle of the night? Oh, you tricky insomnia. You got me. When I had a room to myself, it was no problem to flip on the giant sleeping pill and watch some infomercials (ask me about the Magic Bullet and the Ronco Food Dehydrator. I know LOTS!) until I would be blissfully unconscious again. Now that I’m married, I can’t get away with it. I’ve tried the video iPod with some success, but sleeping in either headphones or earbuds is not recommended. Ouch. Besides, as soon as Boo the Devilcat seems me stirring, she’s in there cooing, drooling, kneading, and begging for me to pet her RIGHT NOW and ALL NIGHT (or ELSE!).
So. Here I am. Victim again of my old foe termination insomnia. What am I doing about it? Whining like an eleven-year-old deemed too young for Twilight. “But all my friends are sleeping! I won’t understand what they’re talking about!”
Good morning, world. Happy to see you.
NOT!
I generally like to think of myself as a (hopefully) good-natured and (usually) even-tempered kind of person. If I was a horse, I would be the steady sort on which kindly uncles would place children for easy rides around the paddock and afterward they would pat my nose and I would gently lip sugar (sugar is a must!) off their tiny, sticky hands. However, the thing that makes me want to run crazed around the room, foam-flecked and kicking everything into oblivion, is INSOMNIA. (I would like to thank Stephen King for making it a big, red word with raised letters that are coated in a mixture of sulfuric acid and children’s tears. Thanks, Stevie.)
My problem is this. I cannot GO to sleep. I must FALL asleep. My mind generally goes along all day at jaunty clip, getting me through whatever I’m doing with relative clarity and focus. I rather like these happy daylight times. But when the sun sets, it morphs into some evil, werewolf-like thing, ready to seize sleep from my tender grasp with giant gnashing jaws. Suddenly, everything I’ve ever repressed in my entire LIFE comes barreling at me in a slideshow of contemplation, confusion, and worry. I am aware of my tendency to over-think EVERYTHING, so I’ve got a system out to keep the mind-wolf at bay so that I can slip off, ninja-style, into dreamland.
TV. You know how you’ve been told your entire life that TV makes you stupid and rots your brain. All true. I love TV. But, I know the brain-rot theory is absolutely true because the second you put me in front of a rerun of The Golden Girls or my beloved Simpsons, my brain goes completely flat-line. Seriously. Shouting hello in there would bring an echo that would reverberate for miles. This is not to say that TV CAN’T make you think (LOST, anyone?), but, thinking is not necessary. My poor husband, who is of the normal-folk who can just flip off the light and march right into dreamland with waving flags and blaring trumpet, has had to adapt to me crawling in on silent toes, a refugee trailing in on the heels of King of the Hill and Home Improvement.
However. What happens when I wake up in the middle of the night? Oh, you tricky insomnia. You got me. When I had a room to myself, it was no problem to flip on the giant sleeping pill and watch some infomercials (ask me about the Magic Bullet and the Ronco Food Dehydrator. I know LOTS!) until I would be blissfully unconscious again. Now that I’m married, I can’t get away with it. I’ve tried the video iPod with some success, but sleeping in either headphones or earbuds is not recommended. Ouch. Besides, as soon as Boo the Devilcat seems me stirring, she’s in there cooing, drooling, kneading, and begging for me to pet her RIGHT NOW and ALL NIGHT (or ELSE!).
So. Here I am. Victim again of my old foe termination insomnia. What am I doing about it? Whining like an eleven-year-old deemed too young for Twilight. “But all my friends are sleeping! I won’t understand what they’re talking about!”
Good morning, world. Happy to see you.
NOT!