January 27, 2014
1:06 a.m.

Anyone who knows me knows that I am one of the crazy people who don't sleep.

I don't know why I don't sleep. I like to sleep, really, I do, and when I can do it I love it a lot. It's like: "Ahhhhh! I'm sleeping! Yay for me! Don't wake me up, please!"

But sleeping is not something I'm good at.

I think it started in childhood. Like, I was afraid that if I went to sleep, I might miss something.  What I might miss in the middle of the night when everyone else in the house was sleeping, I have no idea. A falling star?
An alien invasion? A robber, maybe?

Then came the "Dark Shadows" years. I loved the show, raced home everyday after school to watch it.
Ghosts and vampires and witches, oh my! And I was all of seven years old. I wasn't afraid of anything on the show...
until bedtime. Then it was...race across the room and leap onto the bed so nothing could grab me by the leg and drag me underneath it and into the ghastly world of who-knew-what. I slept with a rosery with my blankets pulled up firmly around my neck, just in case. I'd scare myself silly with this story and that, but oddly enough, once I managed to fall asleep, I never had nightmares about any of those things.

No, my nightmares were firmly planted in the real world. My real fears were of bad things happening to my family. things no one could control, like car accidents and fires and bombs.

So my bedtimes changed from scary storytelling to worrying. What if Mom fell down the stairs? Who would help her if it happened when Dad was at work and we were at school?
What if Dad didn't come home from work? Why wouldn't he come home from work? He always came home from work. What would change that? Well, there could be an accident. He could get called away to save the country. He was a hero, wasn't he? Why wouldn't someone call him away if the country was in trouble? They would, of course they would. After all, that was my dad!
What if someone hurt my brother and sisters? What if they got kidnapped? How would I save them? Because, of course, I would have to save them; I was the oldest; I was responsible for keeping them safe. By God, I would kill anyone who tried to hurt them!
What if the house caught fire? (At this point I'd get out of bed and wander through the house, making sure nothing was on fire.)
What if someone broke in? (Up again, checking the locks.)

To save myself this nightly angst, I started sneaking into the bathroom to read until I thought I was tired enough to fall asleep. Sometimes I fell asleep in there, curled up on the floor on a towel in front of the tub.
Or I'd lie on the floor near the bedroom doorway and read by the narrow strip of light from the living room.

After finding me asleep on the floor enough times my parents decided that I could have a lamp next to my bed and read myself to sleep. It beat the heck out of getting me up from the floor to send me to bed, where I'd start the cycle all over again and not get to sleep until the wee hours of the morning, then beg for "five more minutes" in the morning.

Thus began my lifelong habit of reading myself to sleep. I do it still, but not as well as I used to. These days I have arthritis in my back and my hands. I can no longer lie on my stomach to read, which means I have to hold the book in my hands while lying on my back. I'll read until my hands refuse to grip the book any longer, and then I have to give it up whether I'm ready to sleep or not. You can only drop a book into your face so many times a night before you decide it's time to cash it in!

Over the years, doctors have told me to sleep in a dark room with no distractions. No television or music. Ha! If they ever had to deal with the crap that goes through my head in a silent room, they'd never advise something so laughable!
I've tried it; of course I have! I want to sleep, for crying out loud. I'd read until I couldn't any more, then turn out the light and close my eyes. The waiting would begin.
Then the thinking would begin.
First, I'd calculate how many hours I could sleep if I fell asleep right now.
Then the lists of things I needed to do the next day would start up.
Then the lists of all the possible things I may have screwed up today would begin, followed by the ways I might be able to fix said goof-ups tomorrow.
A peek at the clock. Cripes! An hour has gone by.
I recalculate how much sleep I can get if I fall asleep right now.
I wonder what my parents did today, and chastise myself for not calling more often.
I try to remember how much gas is in the car.
I try to calculate how much money I have in the bank, how much it will cost to fill the gas tank and how long it is until payday.
I worry about buying groceries--people have to eat.
I add and subtract, trying to decide if I'll need a full tank to make it til payday.
Another peek at the clock.
Another hour gone.
Recalculate sleep time.
Give up. Turn on the television. Listen to other voices besides my own. Listen to a program and a half before falling asleep.
Wake up two hours later and decide it's not worth it to try to sleep again, since I have to be up in ninety minutes.
Lie there and listen to another program.
Doze off and wake up in a panic, sure I've overslept and will be late for work.

Ugh!
For the past few years I've at least not had to worry about getting up in time for work. I've been on my own schedule, which means I'm up until all hours of the night, reading, writing, making jewelry or drawing. I always keep the t.v. on to keep my own voice at bay, but I still don't sleep. I just lie there and pretend to sleep--it's cozy, at least.
In the last year I was diagnosed with sleep apnea and told that it was probably the reason that I cannot stay asleep once I finally fall asleep. I have a C-PAP machine that I use nightly, and I believe I do stay asleep longer now, but it does nothing to help me fall asleep. I'm stuck with this.

This is going to be another one of those nights when nothing--books, t.v., music--nothing is going to help, so here I am. I suppose if I can write about it, and gripe about it, I might be able to bore myself to sleepiness.

And if not, at least I have something to do!

Blogspot, thanks for listening. Hahaha!