Oh, I may get a few hours here and there, and I do go for the odd stretch of 'good nights' (anywhere from 5-7 hours), but when it all boils down to it, I'm a hopeless insomniac; a veteran 'Night Owl' of the worst kind. Since my mid-teens, I have spent many a night staring at ceilings all over Southern and Eastern Ontario. If there is a prize for guessing how many dots on a ceiling tile, or for thinking up as many foods as one can that begin with the letter 'P', I'm definitely in the running.
Needless to say, there haven't been many 'good nights' since June 26th, the night before I lost my dear friend and brother to a horrific shooting accident. While I don't believe in wallowing in self-pity (anymore) and I am not prone to bouts of weeping and wailing (anymore), I am certain that Peck's death is somehow instrumental in hindering my slumber. 'Well, DUH,' you say, 'No guff!' Yes, I know this explanation seems like so much common sense, but that is what is so puzzling to me. If I were up all night thinking about Jesse and bawling my eyes out, I could understand. But that's not the case at all. When I DO think about Peck, I can't help but laugh. The first image that comes to mind is always that free and easy ear-to-ear grin; a quick one-liner followed by a slap on the knee and his head thrown back, just enjoying the hilarity of everyday situations... not exactly something that should keep me up past my bedtime.
I've spent enough nights like this over the years to know that trying to figure out WHY I'm not sleeping only makes things worse. In fact, the more 'thinking' I do, the more alert I become. So I don't. After going through the usual routine of what one in my situation SHOULD do (the reasonable, consistent bedtime. the half-hour of reading. the darkened room. the meditation and breathing techniques. the white noise. the chamomile tea, etc etc etc), I generally end up curled in a chair, glassy eyes fixated on some screen or another.
While I would love to say that I use this 'extra' time for something productive, or creative (a blog is creative, isn't it? maybe?), or useful, I can't. Though I am no stranger to functioning perfectly well on 2-3 hours' worth of shut-eye, it isn't exactly my idea of a good time. But when I have gone for two or three days without rest, productivity and creativity are a downright impossibility. Even though the concept of 'usefulness' is always relative in this world, I don't think even I could bullshit my way anywhere close to it at this point. I can't think. Hell, half the time I don't even want to. I feel like my brain has melted. I couldn't think if I tried.
According to my research (hey, I'm up, I might as well read about it):
'Sleep deprived test subjects have difficulty thinking of imaginative words or ideas. They tend to choose repetitious words or clichéd phrases. They are less able to deliver a statement well. They may show signs of slurred speech, stuttering, speaking in monotone, or at a slower pace than usual. Subjects have a harder time reacting well to unpredicted rapid changes. They do not have the speed or creative abilities to cope with making quick but logical decisions, nor do they have the ability to implement them well. A lack of sleep impairs one's ability to simultaneously focus on several different related tasks, reducing the speed as well as the efficiency of one's actions'
'A 2001 Chicago Medical Institute study suggested that sleep deprivation may be linked to serious diseases, such as heart disease and mental illnesses including psychosis and bipolar disorder. The link between sleep deprivation and psychosis was further documented in 2007 through a study at Harvard Medical School and the University of California at Berkeley. The study revealed, using MRI scans, that lack of sleep causes the brain to become incapable of putting an emotional event into the proper perspective and incapable of making a controlled, suitable response to the event.'
No wonder I'm such a head case. I'm exhausted. deranged. The stupidest things make me laugh until I cry. My skin is pasty, bags under my eyes. I have dark circles that spark jealousy in the hearts of raccoons everywhere. My brain - a quivering, throbbing mass of short-circuiting irrationality - just plain aches. It's hard not to succumb to paranoia and delirium, but somehow I manage to keep afloat, until finally I pass out on the couch at 5am (if I'm lucky) with visions of Dorothy and the other Golden Girls trying to sell me Ab Blasters and Bump-its and Proactive Solution with its Amazing Refining Mask floating through my cranium.
When will it end? WILL it end? I fear for what the future will bring. My mind seems to have accepted this routine as the norm, and sometimes I wonder if I will ever be the same again. Will I ever get my eight hours? Will I ever be able to rest? To wake refreshed each morning, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed? Or am I doomed to a life of counting sheep until I have tallied enough fleecy beasties to knit a whole flock of itchy, uncomfortable, carelessly crafted, irregular sweaters?
I guess time will tell. Insomnia rules, alright. It rules my life... and I want my life back.
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| bah ram ewe... how many sheeps? |
THAT would suck. The part of the day when I am asleep, is my favourite!
ReplyDeleteWhen I can't get to sleep I like to list the states in alphabetical order or list all the characters on Coronation Street. Sometimes I list all the place you could work ifyou lived on Coronation Street.
However, maybe you don't need as much sleep as some? I don't believe that EVERYONE needs 8 hours every night. Ronnie Hawkins says that most of the people he knows who are really successful (ie Bill Clinton) don't seem to need as much sleep as the rest of us.
Maybe you are in the Bill Clinton category?
And of course we all know that Ronnie Hawkins is a medical doctor who should be quoted on these matters.
Geesh. Maybe I better go to bed.
LOL @ maggie
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