I had the night from hell last evening, basically because I spent most of it awake. Welcome to the wonderful world of insomnia. And not just any insomnia, either. Mine goes back to my youngest days, when my dad would rock and rock and rock his baby daughter to sleep. My teeny little eyelids would slowly close and, slowly, he’d stop rocking.
Then my eyes would pop open.
Poor old dad.
Nap time was torture in kindergarten. All the other little kids laid down and went out like little, baby, lights. I just laid there, staring at the ceiling and waiting for my period of enforced inactivity to end.
I didn’t sleep in high school. I didn’t sleep in college. I spent most of my working life in a sleep deprived haze. It’s been a rough life, if early or even mid-morning was involved.
I talked to a doctor about it. He just shrugged his shoulders after I told him about nap time. It’s built into my brain chemistry, evidently. I can nibble around the edges, if I’m lucky, but I’ll never be a good sleeper.
This unfortunate status, combined with my husband’s sonority at night, often results in separate sleeping arrangements. Well, one of us sleeps, anyway.
So, last night was spent tossing and turning and waiting for that magic, tired, feeling. I remember weird, vivid dreams. That happens when you’re in a certain – very light – stage of REM sleep. I remember trying to wake up and move, but feeling paralyzed. That happens in light sleep, too. That’s why you often can’t run in dreams. The body shuts down movement so you can sleep. I guess I was in and out of sleep enough so that I was conscious but still in a sleep state. That happens a lot with me, actually.
I spent the day reading and trying to stay awake. I have a laundry list of things I have to do. I guess I’ll start in on them tomorrow.
Okay, so, I’m taking a shower and am going to take a shot at a decent night’s sleep. Hopefully, the second night will be the charm.