I live a very busy life (I know you can all relate). I have a full-time job. I am raising two young girls. I am involved in the community. I like to stay busy. I like to be on the go. I like to fill my free time with activities, trips, and social events.
However, I also enjoy my rest.
I love sleep. I need a lot of sleep.
I am an excellent sleeper. I can sleep anywhere.
I sleep hard. You might say I am a world-class sleeper.
My family and close friends know about my sleeping talent (and my love for a good nap on a Sunday afternoon). A friend of mine recently gave me a pillow that said, “I’m great in bed. I can sleep for days.” My Mom, who has always struggled with sleep, frequently comments on how envious she is of my exceptional abilities.
For my entire life, I have never had trouble sleeping. I took this ability for granted.
This all changed when I was recently introduced to insomnia.
All of a sudden, I find myself waking up at 1am, 2am, sometimes 3am. No matter what I do, I cannot go back to sleep. For a while, I was trying every trick in the book — melatonin, limiting screen time before bed, sound machines, a weighted blanket (which I do love!), and even counting those pesky sheep.
Nope. Still wide awake. Frustrated. Anxious. Tired all the time.
But then, all of a sudden, I found myself enjoying those waking hours. Instead of fighting Insomnia, I decided to embrace her.
Overnight (literally), insomnia became a guilty pleasure.
Now, when I wake up and see it is 2am, I feel a sense of relief, almost excitement. This my “me time.” It is time to myself. It is quiet. It is peaceful.
My world has slowed down. I have started really focusing on my surroundings. I have begun noticing the faint creaks of my house, the blinking lights on the cable box, the rustle of the wind, the sound of the ice maker.
Some nights I lie with my thoughts and give myself the time to think. Think about the past day. Think about tomorrow. Just think.
Sometimes I go and sit on the edge of my daughters’ beds. I listen to their breathing. I look at them. I take in their innocence. I wonder what they are dreaming.
Other nights (like tonight), I get up and write. It is calming. It is therapeutic. No one interrupts me. No one needs my help (if I am asked one more time by my daughters to find something that is right in front of them, I may lose it!). During these rare moments in the middle of the night, I can fully concentrate without distractions.
Then all of a sudden, I feel it. It is time. My old, loyal friend is back. As I find myself drifting into the arms of sleep, I know I am ready.
But I realize I needed that awake time. I needed that escape. I needed that calm. My mind needed that solace.
