3:00 am. I like to think that at this time of night, most people are comfortably sound asleep. But I’m well aware there are a number of studies out there which show (or purport to show) more and more of us are suffering from sleep disorders now than at any other time in history. I suspect there’s a good measure of hyperbole in such studies. And yet, here I am, awake at 3:00 am. And not just awake, but subject to Dark Imaginings and prey to nagging fears and doubts. Isn’t insomnia enough? Do we have to put up with negative musings, to boot?
When I was a kid there was only one night a year when insomnia struck, and that was Christmas Eve. In our family, Christmas was celebrated on the evening of the 24th. That’s when we exchanged gifts and put on Christmas carols and so on. Since Christmas wasn’t a school day, we were allowed to stay up past midnight. (Not much past midnight, but still a lot later than normal). But who could sleep when there were toy soldiers to be played with and Matchbox cars to be raced? It was a pleasant insomnia, one that I even looked forward to. Fifty years later, I long for the sleep of 1968. It may have been a turbulent year for adults at that time, but back then I slept through the night.
I’m single, which means I sleep alone. And I think that’s just as well. I really think insomnia would be even harder to take if I had a wife or girlfriend. Either I would resent the fact that she was sound asleep while I was wide awake, or I’d feel guilty if my insomnia was also keeping her from sleeping. There’s no good way to comfort an insomniac, after all. Saying things like: “Just relax.” or “Try not to think about things.” or “Will you for God’s sake go to sleep already?! I have to get up in three hours!” doesn’t help matters at all. And if the married couples I know are anyone to go by, sex is out of the question in that situation. Nor do chemical approaches work. Sleeping pills make me groggy enough to be uncomfortable without actually putting me to sleep. Alcohol just gives me a headache. And the only warm milk I’ll ever touch is hot cocoa, and that would only keep me even more awake than I already was. Also, being single means I can just turn on the light and read. Or blog about my insomnia.