You name it, I’ve tried it.
I cannot seem to get a good night’s sleep.
This isn’t anything new. I’ve always been somewhat of an insomniac. It runs in my family.
At work yesterday one of my colleagues suggested a sleep mask. That in combination with the “Best Rest Formula” from my chiropractor got me to sleep at 8:30 pm but after the stroke of 11:30 pm, I was up practically every hour.
I’m somewhat tired (no pun intended) of everyone’s advice. Of course I have solicited it so I shouldn’t complain.
Yesterday at The Dailey Method in Morgan Hill, where I’ve developed quite a few forty and fifty something friends in the same sleep deprived state, I got some interesting data. (The names have been changed to protect the innocent.) Janet takes Trazodone but only on the weekends because it makes her too groggy during the work week. Annie takes Ambien but only on Tuesdays and Thursdays so as not to get addicted. I tried Ambien for a few weeks. My niece was living with me at the time and one evening I was making dinner and found her peanut butter in the freezer.
“Sarah, why is your peanut butter in the freezer?” One look of disbelief from her and it all came back to me. It had been my midnight snack.
“Are you worried about something?” People ask. Actually, I am currently in a good space. But who doesn’t worry about something?
Am I going to get Ebola? What is going to happen when we get rid of all our books and paper and “the enemy” absconds with our internet? Why are girls at school melting down and having panic attacks in my office? Am I going to get to work on time with all this traffic? Will the Giants win the World Series?
Yesterday, at a stop light, I looked to my right and to my left at the people in the cars waiting for the light to change. They all looked pretty stressed out. The man to my right was running his hand through his hair like he’d had the day from hell. The lady on my left had a car full of unruly kids.
WE ARE ALL STRESSED OUT! But most people sleep anyway. Not me.
I save things for myself to do in the middle of the night. Empty the dishwasher. Fold clothes. Look through junk mail.
Sometimes I go into my closet and choose three things for the “to go” bag. I finally got rid of this really slinky red dress that I was sure I was going to wear again someday. No worries. I’ll see it again on a Morgan Hill Goodwill shopper.
Sometimes I go on Facebook but other insomniacs try to message me. I’m awake, I say, but not in the mood for a conversation. Some guy I dated in college likes to chat after his full day as an airplane pilot for Southwest Airlines. He’s lonely somewhere in a hotel. There are lonely insomniacs everywhere. The middle of the night is a lonely place.
Today I am off to Home Depot to investigate black-out shades for my bedroom. I’ve downloaded a white noise app for my phone and have purchased a bottle of lavender lotion for aromatherapy benefits. I’ll try this trifecta tonight and let you know how it goes.
If you have any ideas, feel free to amuse me.
And if this blog seems a bit rambling and random, forgive me.
I am sleepless in Morgan Hill.