Insomnia: Could You Not Stay Awake With Me One Hour?

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)

Dark Chocolate Decadence

Stress eating. It is a real phenomenon. I know from personal experience.

My vice is dark chocolate. The biggest amount of dark chocolate I have consumed in a day (in recent memory) is a 220-calorie Dove bar (five melt-in-your-mouth squarish sections) with three–maybe even four–Lindt Lindor extra dark chocolate Truffles (melt-in-your-mouth round balls). That makes an additional 150 to 200 calories.

Basically I consume a whole meal's worth of chocolate to feel better about my day - and I do it one piece at a time until I feel a return to equilibrium ... or intense guilt about what I've consumed.

I like to think that awareness of my weakness is the first step to controlling it. I hope so. But the Lindor Truffle slogan is "Do you dream in chocolate?" and I actually think I might. I also think I don't want to regain control. I've read the studies. I know about the science. Dark chocolate helps me somehow.

No pretending. No pretense. I rely on dark chocolate to give me an emotional lift nearly everyday.

On a continuum of vices, I am aware that dark chocolate isn't horrendous. Still, I could do something a bit more healthy - even if it means limiting the amount I consume. More than that, I don't like the weakness I feel when at the mercy of chocolate. I'd like to eat chocolate for enjoyment, not for stress relief.

I'm not alone in my stress struggles, either. My husband, Mark, has a food vice too. He relies on Little Debbie Nutty Bars and buys packages of them without me around–because he knows I won't buy them for him. Dark chocolate is one thing. But nutty bars? Not even in the same league, if you ask me. But that is Mark's issue to deal with. He has his food vice. I have mine.

Actually, we have a shared vice as well: chocolate-frosted raised donuts. But this food habit is decidedly more controlled. We have agreed that every Saturday we are each allowed one donut, accompanied by a wonderful cup of decaffeinated coffee. But lately, something else has begun to occur in our home. I could try to explain it, but it is probably more fun for you to see for yourself.
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Stress, Psychosomatic Illness & Banana Bread

I've mentally outlined a written blog (maybe a book chapter) about my experiences recognizing how my body communicates stress. When I say "communicate," I don't mean externally, for I think it's terribly noticeable to those I interact with daily, making my external awareness - "Joy is stressed, people!" - easy to determine. The kind of communication I'm referring to occurs internally - between my physical body and the cognizant part of me that's most responsible for shaping my identity.

So tonight I've vlogged (is that a term?) thoughts I have mulled today related to a conversation with a student in my office. Talking about that and the banana bread I'm baking reminded me of my first nearly immobilizing anxiety attacks. They manifested about ten years ago in my kitchen, and I had to discover why that was. Until I identified what my kitchen had to do with my physical pain, I couldn't quiet what I'd been denying in my mind. That's what I hope to write more about someday.

Sorry about saying the words "so" and "anyway" a lot in this vlog. I'll get better. I promise. And check out my wording: "part of my plan." Ah, will I ever learn?