Sleepless in Seattle

Some nights, I sprawl like a toddler in my bed with arms and legs akimbo, breathing deeply.  Face upturned to some sun I cannot see, I imagine I am already asleep and dreaming of puppies and kittens or whatever it is that toddler's dream about.  I try to hold perfectly still, imagining my limbs have grown roots and are as heavy as tree trunks growing down through the bed, through the floor and into the earth.  

Other nights I curl up, wrapping my arms around myself tightly.  I try to remember what it feels like when you're so broken that all you can do is wrap your outsides around your insides and sleep.  I try to conjure up memories of hearbreak, despair and loss while I contort my body into shapes of sadness.  I long for the heavy limbed, swollen eyed feeling after a good cry.  I try to re-create that sadness just so I can shed a few tears.  I'm hoping that this will exhaust my mind, fill it with cotton balls of sadness, shutting down the racing thoughts and covering my tension like a heavy, wet blanket.  

Most nights neither of these work and I lay in the darkness, listening to the deep, even breathing of my husband as he drifts quickly and calmly into sleep.  Sometimes I'll start to fall asleep and my body will jolt awake suddenly, my mind angry and betrayed that sleep has crept past it's gates.  The clock will have barely moved, my husband will have drifted from breathing into snoring and I'll feel the frustration building and sending energy into every limb.  Limbs that kick out whenever my husband lets out a particularly egregious snore.  Oh yes, I'm not above kicking, shoving and sighing dramatically when he's snoring.  It's not even really the snoring that gets me.  It's that he's ASLEEP and we've only just gotten into bed.  See, he lays down and he closes his eyes AND THEN HE GOES TO SLEEP.  This, to me, is a miracle.  How the hell do people do that?  

I have tried all the usual insomnia tricks.  The warm bath, the warm tea, melatonin, meditation and warm milk.  I keep routines.  I don't exercise after 6:00 (that makes it sound like I actually exercise doesn't it?), I don't eat late snacks.  I turn off the computer and the TV at least an hour before bedtime.  I don't keep electronics in my bedroom.  I keep it cool in the bedroom.  I run a fan for white noise.  It's dark in the bedroom.  And so on and so on.  And still, I lay down in bed and my mind jumps into action.  Sometimes I will count backwards from 100.  I usually get distracted somewhere around number 78 and my mind veers off into solving more problems, worrying about more things, thinking up new ways that tomorrow might be better.  

Then there are the times where I get so worn down from not sleeping that I am a constant ball of anger and unhappiness.  I'm like a two year old who missed their nap, all tantrums and tears and DON'T TOUCH ME and PLEASE HOLD ME but DON'T TOUCH ME.  On those nights, I give in to some medical comfort in the form of Nyquil or Tylenol PM or Unisom.  I cannot express the amazement I feel, the incredible deep happiness when the drugs kick in and my body sinks into the bed like an anchor aiming for the bottom of the sea.  When my brain can't fight any longer and every thought is simply noticed before it floats away, a floating lantern drifting away from me as I slip into darkness and sleep.  Glorious, wonderful sleep.  I imagine this must be what it feels like for those of you who just 'fall asleep'.  You just drift off and without even knowing it, you sleep.  Lucky, lucky you.  And for your safety, you better not fall asleep next to me because I just might kick you.