Middle of the night

I can't remember the last time I slept through the night. It was probably before my first pregnancy - and that's a good 35 years ago! But, one of the benefits of retirement is that it no longer matters if I get a full night of sleep. When I had a real job, I used to fret that I wouldn't be able to function the next day if I didn't get 8 hours of rest. And the fretting added to the inability to get back to sleep. In time, I began to embrace the fact that segmented sleep was inevitable. I would reason that I would just have to push through the day, double up on coffee in the morning, and try to get to bed earlier the following night.  

Now, it doesn't matter if my sleep is interrupted. For one thing, I can always take a nap. Although I'm still riddled with guilt about lying down in the middle of the day, I do enjoy the extra zip I get from 20 minutes on the couch. 

When I turn in at night, I fully expect to spend some period of time awake and alone in the dark... and I actually look forward to that quiet time because I often get my best thinking done then.  During the daylight hours, I am easily distracted by a million things. It's tremendously difficult when we have phones, texts, tv, buzzing Apple watches, demanding husbands, even squirrels refocusing our attention! 

When the sun is up, I have so many things rattling around in my head I often forget the last thought I had and curse myself when I can't remember. It's incredibly frustrating and it's the reason I keep a running written list of "To Dos". Now I keep them on my computer and I get particular joy from crossing out items I've actually completed! 

But, when I do crawl into bed, I fully expect to be doing the Spelling Bee in the New York Times games section at 3 a.m. as soon as it uploads. Once complete, I follow with Wordle. My dear friend and fellow insomniac JPW, also does Wordle in the middle of her sleep cycle - but on Pacific time. So, I'll send her my results first and a couple of hours later, she sends me her results so we can compare scores.  It's comforting to know that my pal is lying in bed 3,000 miles away looking at the same screen and puzzling over the letters.  

I'm also one of those people who remembers dreams and attaches meaning to them. I like to try to figure out what my subconcious is trying to tell me especially when there are puns or a 'play on words' involved.  Did I mention I like to do puzzles? 😉

The flip side, of course, is that with the lights out and nothing but my brain to "amuse" me , I am sometimes led into that all-too-familiar dark pit of anxiety. And that's when I have to physically rise and wander the house in the dark. If I'm really freaked out, I'll get on the stationary bike to 'tire' myself out (but I'm not too fretful to forget to wear my Apple watch to keep track of my activity ring!) until I can eventually crawl back into bed. 

This week, I was staying with my 92 year old mum at her place in Florida. Her brain has been  'shorting out' and she's dealing with elements of dementia. Wednesday night I heard her crying out in fright at about 4 a.m.  I ran into her room -  she was fast asleep and waving her arms above her head. I  held her until she calmed down and eventually woke up. She said it was a bad dream but couldn't remember what it was. (Not unusual, since she can't remember conversations she had 10 minutes before). She fell back to sleep eventually, but I couldn't - I lay awake worrying about mum's fears and what might be plaguing her. That spiralled into thinking about my own worst nightmare: the time in my life when my brain will betray me. Unfortunately, my mum's condo doesn't have a stationary bike, so I had to continue to lie in bed worrying about the future. How soon will I have to deal with the time when my nights are no longer periods of sweet rest, or 3 a.m. brain gymnastics?  

The next morning, mum slept in a bit. But by 9 a.m. she was up, dressed, fully coiffed, and ready for coffee. She had no recollection of the previous night's terror. And, I didn't remind her either.