Insomnia
Most nights I struggle with getting to sleep. Not just getting to sleep, but staying asleep longer than a few hours. I've taken over-the-counter stuff and have also been prescribed several different things. The meds might work for a few weeks and then I'll have to stop them for a while to, I guess, lessen my tolerance to them. The insomnia goes hand-in-hand with the depression and anxiety.
Some nights I don't sleep at all. If I lay in bed tossing and turning for more than an hour I will just get up. The night before last was one of those nights. I didn't sleep at all. I thought for sure I would sleep well last night, but.... not so much. I went to be around 11:30 (I think) and was able to fall asleep relatively quickly - quickly for me, anyway. My eyes popped open at 3:55 this morning and I've been up since then. Terry said that I had a nightmare, but I don't remember that.
My sleep issues are not just a chemical imbalance. I have environmental contributors, too...
Perpetrator #1: Roxie Crow - 8 lb Chihuahua
To be so small, she takes up a LOT of room in our king-sized bed. She used to burrow under the covers and sleep at our feet but gave up on that after being kicked multiple times by the hubs. These days, she still burrows under the covers but now she snuggles up to my hiney and curls into a little brown ball. During the night, she stretches out sideways and puts as much space as she can between the hubs and I. Over the course of the night she stretches and eases me toward the edge. By the time I get out of the bed, I have about 9 inches of the 72 inch mattress. She sleeps well, though.
Perpetrator #2: Terry Crow - Husband extraordinaire
I love my husband absolutely and with no reservations. That being said, he snores like an award-winning lumberjack. He snores whether he is laying on his back or his side. He also says "Mm-Hmm" a LOT in his sleep. I pet his head and softly say, "Babe, can you roll over?". Sometimes he does. The times that he doesn't, I'll gently nudge him and say (a little less gently), "Terry, roll over". That is usually met with either him rolling over or him saying, "I did", to which I respond that obviously not because I'm asking again.
Add everything up - wonky brain, diva dog, and wanna-be lumberjack - and I'm pretty much screwed until I get so exhausted that I almost fall into a coma. This pattern seems to cycle, although not regularly. I get frustrated and mad and worried. Sometimes it feels like I am doomed to linger in the purgatory that lies between completely awake and restful sleep, that maybe I won't know how it feels to wake refreshed or to not dread bedtime.
The worst part? Terry worries about me, about my lack of sleep. The last thing in the world that I want to do is add stress to my man's life. Sometimes I just lay in the bed, wide awake, to make him think that I slept. Maybe it works, maybe not.
My hope is that either (1) my idiot brain will correct its chemical wonkiness, or (2) people much smarter than myself will develop a cure for insomnia that will not cause a coma or a wicked zombification the next day.
Somebody get on that.
Some nights I don't sleep at all. If I lay in bed tossing and turning for more than an hour I will just get up. The night before last was one of those nights. I didn't sleep at all. I thought for sure I would sleep well last night, but.... not so much. I went to be around 11:30 (I think) and was able to fall asleep relatively quickly - quickly for me, anyway. My eyes popped open at 3:55 this morning and I've been up since then. Terry said that I had a nightmare, but I don't remember that.
My sleep issues are not just a chemical imbalance. I have environmental contributors, too...
Perpetrator #1: Roxie Crow - 8 lb Chihuahua
To be so small, she takes up a LOT of room in our king-sized bed. She used to burrow under the covers and sleep at our feet but gave up on that after being kicked multiple times by the hubs. These days, she still burrows under the covers but now she snuggles up to my hiney and curls into a little brown ball. During the night, she stretches out sideways and puts as much space as she can between the hubs and I. Over the course of the night she stretches and eases me toward the edge. By the time I get out of the bed, I have about 9 inches of the 72 inch mattress. She sleeps well, though.
Perpetrator #2: Terry Crow - Husband extraordinaire
I love my husband absolutely and with no reservations. That being said, he snores like an award-winning lumberjack. He snores whether he is laying on his back or his side. He also says "Mm-Hmm" a LOT in his sleep. I pet his head and softly say, "Babe, can you roll over?". Sometimes he does. The times that he doesn't, I'll gently nudge him and say (a little less gently), "Terry, roll over". That is usually met with either him rolling over or him saying, "I did", to which I respond that obviously not because I'm asking again.
Add everything up - wonky brain, diva dog, and wanna-be lumberjack - and I'm pretty much screwed until I get so exhausted that I almost fall into a coma. This pattern seems to cycle, although not regularly. I get frustrated and mad and worried. Sometimes it feels like I am doomed to linger in the purgatory that lies between completely awake and restful sleep, that maybe I won't know how it feels to wake refreshed or to not dread bedtime.
The worst part? Terry worries about me, about my lack of sleep. The last thing in the world that I want to do is add stress to my man's life. Sometimes I just lay in the bed, wide awake, to make him think that I slept. Maybe it works, maybe not.
My hope is that either (1) my idiot brain will correct its chemical wonkiness, or (2) people much smarter than myself will develop a cure for insomnia that will not cause a coma or a wicked zombification the next day.
Somebody get on that.
Comments
Post a Comment