Waiting for morning

I'm starting to write this at 1:30am.  I've just finished Nanowrimo Day 8.  It's incredibly gruelling for someone on a full-time work schedule, but I've been keep to it so far.  I remember someone telling me that you need to do something 21 times before it becomes habit.  Maybe this means that by the end of the month, I'll be in the habit of writing 1,600 words a day! 

After I hit publish on this, I'll crawl into bed.  It'll probably be two.  I'll put on a soothing YouTube video and if I'm lucky, I'll be out by two-thirty.  

I'm not usually lucky.

I've had insomnia for as long as I can remember.  I hate it.  It makes me cagey, out of control, and deathly sleepy in exactly the wrong places.

It manifests every time I'm stressed because I have the kind of mind that chases itself in circles.  I was an obnoxious child with very few friends and by the time I became a teenager, I was beating myself up over every little faux pas.  This is embarrassing to admit.  I was a massive Backstreet Boys fan (that's not the embarrassing bit) and I was crazy about Kevin, the oldest member.  When they announced on the radio that he was getting married, I didn't sleep the whole night.

I can pretty much recognise now what the triggers are.  Feeling bad about something that happened that day.  Loss.  Anger.  Pain.  Fear.  Stress and anticipation.  I couldn't sleep for days when my grandmother died. 

And of course, when we broke up and I lost that safe anchor, my sleeping patterns began to drift as well.  

Oddly enough, the exhaustion that comes with Nanowrimo hasn't exactly helped.  My current schedule is that I wake up each morning at about nine.  On late days, work (I'm a teacher) finishes around nine thirty at night.  I come home by half ten and decompress, sometimes for up to an hour.  Once I'm showered and calm, I start on leftover work and eventually work my way up to Nano.  Sometimes, sleep only hits at 3am.  It's a ridiculous schedule, and I have eyebags on top of eyebags, but I don't know how else to do it.  

I haven't found a cure-all for insomnia.  I listen to relaxation and meditation on YouTube.  Sometimes that works.  Sometimes I stay up and watch Bob Ross paint, or listen to Mister Rogers talk about being friends.  Sometimes, I try for complete darkness and silence.  Invariably, one night out of two, I'm still wired.  Now and again, I wake up in the middle of the night and can't go back to bed for an hour.  People get texts from me at six in the morning. 

So, I have no advice for you.

Mainly, I've just found that when the problem evaporates, sleep returns.  This breakup will take a long time to sublime.  He was a great, steadying force for me.  Knowing that he had my back in the waking world, I plunged into the sleeping one with ease.  I hate myself for getting so used to it.  For peeling my armour off and telling myself that just this once, I could have something to rely on.  But maybe I'm just human. 

So I continue to struggle and plough.  And at times, friends stay up with me.  They write, or text or sometimes, if they happen to have the next day off and planned to sleep late anyway, they carry on conversations.  Not many know of my trouble.  Some think I'm just energetic.  But it can help to know that in the big, dark night, you are not alone.  

Insomnia is fear itself.  It is painful and prickly and can turn you inside out with anxiety.  It is repeating things that happened over and over in your mind until your eyes sting with tears and you are less sane and more awake than ever.  

Yet, knowing that somewhere someone might be awake too can collapse uncontrollable insomnia into the tedious, but much less threatening, task of waiting for morning. 

Writing gratitude lists in my head can also turn looming dread into a chance to be thankful.  Here are a few things that I was grateful for today.

Victoria's Secret bath and body products.  I splurge on expensive skincare because nothing belittles nightmares like waking up and smelling something freshly, heavily luxurious.

Beautiful costume jewellery earrings that my mother bought me when she was on work in the United States.

The enormous Salad Stop! salad that I quaffed today.  Chock full of orange segments, pomelo, olives, lettuce, cucumber, corn, grapes, carrots, edamame and drizzled with a nicely subtle Japanese miso dressing.

The view from my office window.  Nothing beats watching a heavy storm descend when you are warm and dry inside.