Insomnia
Every few weeks, for no reason I can ascertain, I wake up around 3:00 in the morning and lie in bed tossing and turning for at least an hour while my brain tries to kill me.
Plans and worries, typically about matters of little consequence, stream through my head, unabated by my attempts to control them. I try deep breathing, counting sheep, visualizing the Ashtanga yoga series, but nothing works. Soon, I’m fretting over how to get my laundry done or where I should celebrate my 75th birthday. The fountain of anxiety keeps gushing no matter what I do, so I just ride it out, flopping around like a fish out of water.
I know I should get up and read a book, but usually I just stay in bed, doing a cost-benefit analysis of getting up and reading. So instead of spending half an hour perusing a text that would make me sleepy, I waste twice that much time wondering whether it would be worth my while to open a book.
Typically, of course, the concerns that keep me awake have lost all their power to confound by morning. Last night, for instance, I was bedeviled for at least 30 minutes by worries about how I could possibly reschedule a meeting I’ve set up for later this week. In the cold, cruel light of dawn (actually the soft glow of my desklamps), all I had to do was send one email and everything’s taken care of.
It’s not so bad in the summer when I know that, if it were really to come down to it, I could take a mid-day nap. During the school year, though, when that’s not possible, I’m kept awake by the scary prospect of being sleepy all day long in class.
If I really had it together, I’d get up and write a piece for the blog; if that didn’t induce sleepiness, I could always summon the sandman by reading it.
Plans and worries, typically about matters of little consequence, stream through my head, unabated by my attempts to control them. I try deep breathing, counting sheep, visualizing the Ashtanga yoga series, but nothing works. Soon, I’m fretting over how to get my laundry done or where I should celebrate my 75th birthday. The fountain of anxiety keeps gushing no matter what I do, so I just ride it out, flopping around like a fish out of water.
I know I should get up and read a book, but usually I just stay in bed, doing a cost-benefit analysis of getting up and reading. So instead of spending half an hour perusing a text that would make me sleepy, I waste twice that much time wondering whether it would be worth my while to open a book.
Typically, of course, the concerns that keep me awake have lost all their power to confound by morning. Last night, for instance, I was bedeviled for at least 30 minutes by worries about how I could possibly reschedule a meeting I’ve set up for later this week. In the cold, cruel light of dawn (actually the soft glow of my desklamps), all I had to do was send one email and everything’s taken care of.
It’s not so bad in the summer when I know that, if it were really to come down to it, I could take a mid-day nap. During the school year, though, when that’s not possible, I’m kept awake by the scary prospect of being sleepy all day long in class.
If I really had it together, I’d get up and write a piece for the blog; if that didn’t induce sleepiness, I could always summon the sandman by reading it.
posted by Professor Dave at 10:25 AM
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