Insomnia. For those of you anticipating life after menopause, start anticipating random nights of insomnia. And it's a strange kind of insomnia too. Not so much a restless "Oh, me, oh my! I-can't-sleep" kind. It's more of a "Crap! Here-it-is-again-and-my-energy-won't-let-me-sleep" kind.
Estrogen. Elixir of youth. Who knew the wonder of you until you dwindled to nearly nothing?
I really can't complain. Since shortly after my 40th birthday, I have enjoyed the wonder of life in "those years." Somehow I slid right through peri-menopause and straight to post-menopause with little-to-no discomfort. Of course, I had to convince the medical professionals I'd arrived at this feminine destination years (heck, more than a decade) ahead of schedule.
I can probably blame it on the inherent stress of my life, but I don't want to. That seems to allude to an inferior capacity to deal with chronic stress. (Just so you know, having a child with physical and intellectual disabilities qualifies you for that illustrious category: chronic stress.)
I don't like thinking I might have an inferior capacity for anything, so I choose to ignore why I got here while simply navigating the how to manage being here phase. Frankly, I feel I'm doing that fairly well – other than the 13 pounds I packed on courtesy of a job I held during nearly the same period of time. About .81 pounds per month. Amazing. And because I'm not the calorie burning machine I once was, that means I'll be suffering through the physical after effects of that job for quite a while to come. Lovely. (Sometime I'll share the emotional after effects associated with that job as well. That will be a fascinating endeavor, won't it?)
Anyway, unlike centuries of women who navigated this transition before me, I have the benefit of the Internet to keep me company on nights that my body is having a difficult time shifting gears without the aid of Sister Estrogen. I've discovered that a day of sleep deprivation will kick me back into gear, provided I maintain my exercise and soy milk routine. I'm counting on the fact that tomorrow I'll be begging for bedtime. Until then, I'm blogging past bedtime.
Tonight, before I gave in to my condition, I laid in bed - eyes fully open - thinking about trying not to think. When I have a light version of insomnia, that can work. However, if my mind kicks into full productivity mode while wrestling with insomnia, I've lost the fight. An hour or two of real productivity smack dab in the middle of the night is the best remedy.
So, tonight, when Christ's frustrated words popped into my head, I knew it was time to get up. He understood what stress-induced insomnia was about!
"Could you not stay awake with me one hour?"
The disciples could not.
I wish I had a way of knowing who else is awake at this hour.
• A spouse who has recently lost his or her soul mate.
• A parent who has lost his or her job.
• Sons and daughters living with fear because of choices that found them after they attempted to avoid a choice at all.
• A supervisor who spent part of his or her day letting workers go - or who will do just such a thing in the morning.
• A mom contemplating the outcome of her radiation treatments.
• A dad contemplating the outcome of his surgery.
• A nurse.
• A doctor.
• A security guard.
• A police officer.
• A new parent.
• Someone unbearably depressed.
• Someone unbearably lonely.
• Someone holding a feverish child.
• Someone rubbing the back of a child doubled over in pain.
• Someone who is reading this right now.
Could you not stay awake with me one hour?
Well, tonight I could. I have been with you and have thought of you - whoever you might be. I hope you have not felt alone.
I believe someone else has been with you as well.
38 Then he said to them, "I am deeply grieved, even to death; remain here, and stay awake with me." 39 And going a little farther, he threw himself on the ground and prayed, "My Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass from me; yet not what I want but what you want." 40 Then he came to the disciples and found them sleeping; and he said to Peter, "So, could you not stay awake with me one hour? 41 Stay awake and pray that you may not come into the time of trial; the spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak." 42 Again he went away for the second time and prayed, "My Father, if this cannot pass unless I drink it, your will be done." 43 Again he came and found them sleeping, for their eyes were heavy. Matthew 26:38-43
The spirit is indeed willing, but the flesh is weak. Hang in there. Sometimes this is what life is made of. Fortunately, tomorrow always brings another chance to - if not get it right - at least try it again, hoping for a new result.
I bet I don't have insomnia tomorrow night. I hope you don't either.
You know what? I'm tired now. Finally. Horray!
- dedicated to Greg, Emilie and Skitch (all who have joined me in this hour tonight)
Showing posts with label insomnia. Show all posts
Showing posts with label insomnia. Show all posts
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Saturday, September 12, 2009
Living Life Out Loud
Two nights ago I wasn't really able to fall asleep. Neither could Mark. That's not really a biggie, as one of us needs to stay awake to do Stross' midnight cares. Ninety-seven percent of the time that's Mark, because I simply cannot keep my eyes open much past 10:45 p.m. Also, we both recognized early in our relationship that I'm a downright, um ... witch, if I don't get enough uninterrupted sleep. So on nights when Mark is sick or out of town, I do my best to stay awake for Stross' midnight cares before allowing myself to fall into a long stretch of recuperative rest.
Well, two nights ago I was awake with Mark as he prepared for Stross' cares at 12:40 a.m. When he headed to the boys' bathroom, I headed upstairs only to lie awake minutes later–eyes wide open–wondering if I was suffering from insomnia or a loneliness only Mark could remove.
It was neither. It was restless anxiety - likely the reason I was able to stay awake as long as I had. My mind wasn't ready to turn off a day that I'd spent reliving events in weeks past.
I'm probably not the only person who believes that anxiety is a far worse reason to lie awake than insomnia. With insomnia, you want to sleep but simply can't. And if your insomnia's not gone by the next night or so, a doctor can prescribe medication to help. I've never needed such an aid, but I've felt glad knowing it's a possibility.
With restless anxiety, however, you don't really want to sleep because some part of you feels that solving your life's problems is far more important. Yet as you lie in the dark mulling over things you're unable to address until morning, you realize you must add sleep deprivation to your list of ails; and, without a good night's sleep, you can't begin to work on the solutions you've begun to map out anyway.
Anxiety - even a mild version - is viciously circular.
That night I absolutely did not want to add sleep deprivation to my list, and I certainly did not want my thoughts to circle back to any topic I'd already spent time on during the day. So, since Mark wasn't back from helping Stross yet, I turned on our radio, hoping an audio distraction could drown out my anxious thoughts. Something far better happened: I got a message, delivered in my spiritual language of music. It came through the words of Rob Thomas' "Someday," letting me know that Mark and I were somehow sharing the same mixed up, mid-life muddle. It also let me know that we'd be fine, despite the ugly experiences of this bizarre year, because we were staying true to our vow to live through our messes together.
The music offered a promise that - even after 23 years of marriage - we could still feel the freshness of a shared beginning; and that, maybe - someday - we'd even be able to figure out what we'd survived together. Best of all, the message said we'd be better off and, here's the best part: living our lives out loud.
I love that! Living life out loud. That resonates deep within me. I've always tried to let my life speak in a way that communicates clearly to others. What better way than to live out loud? I know exactly what that means, even if I can't express it any differently than that beautiful arrangement of words. And I love that too! Getting a perfectly worded message is how I know my life - just like every child of God's - is connected to something divine. The God of the Universe found a way to speak to me, delivering words I needed to hear, right when I needed to hear them. Thank you, God. (And thank you, Rob Thomas.)
The song had just begun when I turned the radio on, and it ended as Mark entered our bedroom. I reached over to turn off the radio as the last notes played, not wanting other sounds to pollute the delightful feeling that hung in the air. I didn't want to ruin the moment by telling Mark either - not then. He needed his sleep just as I needed mine. And I was ready to sleep - a restorative, restful night of sleep that would allow me to begin a new day.
Sleep. A way to start all over again every 24 hours, bringing new ways to live out loud and to live them together with Mark. What a wonderful message. What a peaceful thought. Good news from a good God. A good night.
Well, two nights ago I was awake with Mark as he prepared for Stross' cares at 12:40 a.m. When he headed to the boys' bathroom, I headed upstairs only to lie awake minutes later–eyes wide open–wondering if I was suffering from insomnia or a loneliness only Mark could remove.
It was neither. It was restless anxiety - likely the reason I was able to stay awake as long as I had. My mind wasn't ready to turn off a day that I'd spent reliving events in weeks past.
I'm probably not the only person who believes that anxiety is a far worse reason to lie awake than insomnia. With insomnia, you want to sleep but simply can't. And if your insomnia's not gone by the next night or so, a doctor can prescribe medication to help. I've never needed such an aid, but I've felt glad knowing it's a possibility.
With restless anxiety, however, you don't really want to sleep because some part of you feels that solving your life's problems is far more important. Yet as you lie in the dark mulling over things you're unable to address until morning, you realize you must add sleep deprivation to your list of ails; and, without a good night's sleep, you can't begin to work on the solutions you've begun to map out anyway.
Anxiety - even a mild version - is viciously circular.
That night I absolutely did not want to add sleep deprivation to my list, and I certainly did not want my thoughts to circle back to any topic I'd already spent time on during the day. So, since Mark wasn't back from helping Stross yet, I turned on our radio, hoping an audio distraction could drown out my anxious thoughts. Something far better happened: I got a message, delivered in my spiritual language of music. It came through the words of Rob Thomas' "Someday," letting me know that Mark and I were somehow sharing the same mixed up, mid-life muddle. It also let me know that we'd be fine, despite the ugly experiences of this bizarre year, because we were staying true to our vow to live through our messes together.
The music offered a promise that - even after 23 years of marriage - we could still feel the freshness of a shared beginning; and that, maybe - someday - we'd even be able to figure out what we'd survived together. Best of all, the message said we'd be better off and, here's the best part: living our lives out loud.
I love that! Living life out loud. That resonates deep within me. I've always tried to let my life speak in a way that communicates clearly to others. What better way than to live out loud? I know exactly what that means, even if I can't express it any differently than that beautiful arrangement of words. And I love that too! Getting a perfectly worded message is how I know my life - just like every child of God's - is connected to something divine. The God of the Universe found a way to speak to me, delivering words I needed to hear, right when I needed to hear them. Thank you, God. (And thank you, Rob Thomas.)
The song had just begun when I turned the radio on, and it ended as Mark entered our bedroom. I reached over to turn off the radio as the last notes played, not wanting other sounds to pollute the delightful feeling that hung in the air. I didn't want to ruin the moment by telling Mark either - not then. He needed his sleep just as I needed mine. And I was ready to sleep - a restorative, restful night of sleep that would allow me to begin a new day.
Sleep. A way to start all over again every 24 hours, bringing new ways to live out loud and to live them together with Mark. What a wonderful message. What a peaceful thought. Good news from a good God. A good night.
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