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Things That Go Bump in the Night; Don't Be Scared. It's Me.

  • Writer: Melissa Marietta
    Melissa Marietta
  • Jan 11, 2019
  • 3 min read

I have a secret. Well, an extroverted secret because I’ve told about a dozen people.


I don’t sleep much anymore.

Late last summer, something happened. I like to call it Melissa’s Big Bang or A Series of Unfortunate Events.

It started as one singular, anxious event and inflated into a cosmos of anxiety, worry and fear. Similarly to the actual Big Bang, I understand the birth of my sleeplessness as much as I understand the birth of light.

After forty years of blissful sleep, my bliss ended rather abruptly. The first time was jarring to say the least. Waking up from a deep slumber to the darkness of night felt like I was transported from my life to another planet. Now, I understand that most people experience some level of insomnia in their life. Not me. Never. Ever.

My mom has always said that I rose with the sun and set with the sun and I recall many winter evenings falling asleep by 6 or 7 pm, not to awaken until 7 the next morning.  I’ve always been remiss that I didn’t partake in late night study sessions in college because I was in bed by 10 or 11 religiously. I've missed the end of so many movies, despite friends, family or Andy encouraging me to sit up. Andy and I had a Halloween party when we first bought our house and I changed out of my costume around 9, put on my pj's and encouraged the party goers to continue enjoying themselves while I curled up on the couch. I fell asleep at a Broadway show. And the opera. Caroline will eternally be my favorite child because she slept through the night, and in her own room, at 4 months while Charlotte took a year to leave the bedtime breast and sleep on her own.


I have never taken sleep for granted. I've loved it my whole life. I've relished it. I have preferred it over many other activities. Besides those early child rearing days, I've never lost sleep. It's been a reprieve during challenging times and renewal during my busiest moments. Nothing delights me more than a good morning, still in bed stretch after a long night's sleep.


Now, my dear friend sleep and I are estranged. I don't know what I did to make sleep ghost me. 


Being awake when I should be snoozing and drooling on my pillow is like being thrown into a tub of ice water. It shocks me. It never gets easier. My body never adjusts to it. I'm starting to feel like Bill Murray in Ground Hog Day. Each day, I try different things, hoping I'm doing what the universe wants me to do so that I can break the spell and stop the insanity. Yet, each night, after drinking less coffee and more chamomile, cutting down on sugar, using lavender lotion, doing yoga, meditating, turning off all lights and screens, taking medication, going off medication, saying positive affirmations, going to bed at the same time, taking a bath, progressive muscle relaxation, abdominal breathing, and reiki, I find myself AWAKE! FUCKING WIDE AWAKE.


In the dark. Alone. 


It's dark out, Space Shuttle Sleepy Time left, and I am the only person left on planet Insomnia.


The clock is my enemy. I'm afraid to look at it as minutes turn to hours. Three hours is usually my limit before I march down the hallway and wake up poor Andy (who has been banished from the sleep (less) chamber) and start panicking about never sleeping again, everything that has concerned me-ever, and how I'm such a failure at life that I even fail at sleeping. Andy, who has likely just gone to sleep within the last hour or two because he has his own sleep issues, does his very best to calm me down so that I will fall asleep so he can fall asleep. Sometimes his back rub and sleepy words of comfort work and other times, he falls back asleep, snores and I plot putting a pillow over his head. 


The good news is that, apparently, you can sleep train an adult like you can a baby and, if I could train for and run a marathon, I can train for and sleep like Rip Van Winkle. The good news is that February 3 will happen. Bill Murray and Andie MacDowell live happily ever after, and I have faith that if you love something and set it free, it will come back to you. 


Sleep.

I love you.

Come back to me.

 
 
 

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About Me

I write what I think. My goal in sharing my personal perspective is to help others who may feel alone. We hide our insecurities. I expose mine so you can feel better. 

You're welcome.

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