Trying to Catch Those Elusive ZZZ’s

 

It can be as easy as lying down. Other times, it’s like trying to get into the most exclusive nightclub. You wait for hours, till finally you’re allowed past those red, velvet ropes. You get into Sleep Club. Is it me or has slumber become more complicated in later years? Sleep problems now fall into three specific categories…

Falling asleep – I can feel a good night’s sleep coming on like I can sense a weather change. I can also feel a bad one. There’s nothing more frustrating than tossing and turning as you watch the clock digits move slowly past midnight, then 1:00 a.m., and beyond.

Most nights, thank God, sleep doesn’t take too long, and sometimes (depending on how much Proscecco I’ve had) sleep even comes fast.

But then there are other nights.

I lie there, adrift and annoyed, staring at the ceiling for hours. I can’t even blame my snoring husband Randy. Plenty of nights he saws wood, and I sleep like a baby. (He’s even accused me of snoring which I assure you, is complete poppycock.)

I have friends who clean house or pay bills when they can’t sleep. Sometimes, I’ll turn on the bedroom television with closed captions, to keep things quiet. And yet, even that doesn’t work. I lie there wondering: is it possible to be too tired to do anything, but not tired enough to sleep?  

Staying asleep – Then there are times I wake up at early dawn, refreshed and happy. I even have a few hours to cuddle under these warm covers, I tell myself. I’m grateful. That’s when I stretch to look at the clock, expecting to see 6:00 a.m. Instead, it says 11:17 p.m. I’ve slept half an hour. How did that happen? And why did it feel like so much more? And is that my quota for the night?

Sometimes I try and outwit sleep. When my eyelids feel heavy, I’ll mute the television and just lie there, not quite committing to a full lights-out. This “pre-sleep” works. My body likes the transition. When I finally commit, sleep is waiting.

But other times, once those lights are out, I’m more awake than ever. It’s a cruel joke!

The “Wee Hour” Crazies – A few months ago, before falling asleep, I made the mistake of watching a documentary on serial killer Ted Bundy. As they went over the exhaustive list of women he murdered and I saw his normal face and heard him speak in his regular-guy voice, I saw how on the surface, he seemed harmless. I lasted twenty minutes before turning it off in terror.

That night, I went to bed, pulling the covers up over my nose. I knew this show would catch up with me and sure enough, at 3:00 a.m., Ted was waiting. He lured women by using crutches and asking for help getting a package into the back of his van? Who’d be dumb enough to fall for that? Oh God, probably me. 

I didn’t sleep the rest of the night and the next day felt that heavy, sleep-deprived hangover.

Now I watch night-time television on a trauma-descending scale — the scarier, grittier fare, like “A French Village,” (a series about the Nazi occupation of France during WW2) is at the beginning of the night. The same goes for “Game of Thrones” and cable news.

The last thing watched is something funny. I just finished the entire catalog of “Curb Your Enthusiasm.” Before that was “The Office” and before that was “Veep”. Comedies have become my sleeping pill.

Still, I’ve learned a big lesson about trying to fall asleep in these later years. The more you fight it, the longer it takes.

I’ve learned the art of acceptance.

If it’s a bad night, I’ll lie back, thinking: Okay, I can’t sleep, but I’m snug in my home with my husband and terrier Libby beside me. Libby’s hogging the bed and Randy’s snoring a little too vigorously, but whatever. I’m warm and safe.

I wait patiently in line for Sleep Club to admit me.

The strangest thing is, next thing I know, many times, I’m waking to the morning light. I got into Sleep Club after all.

Just when I thought those red, velvet ropes would never open, they finally did. All I had to do was surrender.

 

What do you do when you can’t sleep? Comments are always welcome and if you like, please share. Thank you!

If you’d like to receive posts by email, just press here.