Being Unable to Sleep

Awakened at 3:40 am by a dream about frustration...once I’m awake I tend not to fall asleep again. Luckily it’s Friday and I’ll be spared the usual insomniac curse of lying awake, mentally calculating how many hours (then minutes) of sleep I have until the alarm sounds (5am on weekdays).

I have never been a skillful sleeper. I envy people (ahem, Jenny) who fall asleep quickly, sleep solidly and deeply, and rise slowly. My habits are exactly the opposite, and I’ve been like this, literally, as long as I could remember. As a kid, when unable to sleep, I would crawl out of bed with my pillow and curl up next to the humidifier (in the winter) or fan (in the summer). Something soothing about the white noise, I guess. Other childhood strategies that help me sleep: turning around in the bed, getting up and pretending to do something productive (e.g. create a blog), concentrating very hard on my fingers and toes. What doesn’t work: sleeping on the couch, reading, counting sheep (or other monotonous activities), drinking warm milk, giving up caffeine during the day.

My insomnia worries Jenny. She (an untroubled sleeper) reads it as a sign of unhappiness or ill health. I have exactly the same attitude about people with poor appetites. But to me, insomnia is like asthma or intelligence: something about me that I live with, neither good or bad.