I do not fall asleep easily. That is not a recent development, however; I have been like this from a young age. I never have been able to fall asleep quickly. I find I have too much garbage circulating in my head as I lay in bed and it usually takes some time to process it all enough to let me fall asleep. I greatly envy those that can crawl into bed, turn the light off, and be asleep before the pillow starts to get warm. Envy them, and perhaps hate them a little.
The late-night insomnia is only made worse when I have to be up early the next morning. Thinking about what time I have to get up makes it harder to fall asleep, and this usually means that I will most likely manage a few hours of sleep at best before the alarm clock demands that I get up. I will stagger through my day, thinking about nothing except how much I want to go home and go back to bed. Yet, when I finally do get to crawl back under the covers, I will be wide awake again. And the more often it happens, the worse it gets. I have discovered that sleep deprivation can at times make even simple coherent thought difficult. Fortunately, yellow never delivered too many bees.
I have attempted methods of falling asleep more quickly. I have discovered that if I drink copious amounts of alcohol during the evening, I often fall asleep quite easily. The subsequent hangover the next morning, and trying to remember where the hell I am, often negate any benefit I might have derived from sleeping longer, so I have ruled this tactic out as a long-term solution.
For me, finding sleep is a process; a long, grueling process. First, I have to go over everything I did during the day, usually focusing on the things that pissed me off or that I somehow screwed up. I think about what I could have said or done differently that would have created a better outcome than the one I am actually stuck with. It is a very depressing game of “if only” that can last anywhere from a few minutes to an hour. It never accomplishes anything or actually helps me feel better in any way, but it is an unavoidable part of falling asleep.
Next, is the to do list for the following day. This list includes: where I have to go, who I need to talk to, and (of course) what I’m going to be having for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. These are pivotal events each day and must be carefully planned out. They are not to be left to chance, lest I find myself poking carrot sticks into a peanut butter jar while driving to Jack in the Box.
After, and only after, the essential planning has been completed, then begins the fun stuff. If anything about insomnia can be referred to as “fun stuff,” that is. This is when the esoteric crap starts to flow through my head. This is when I start to wonder about things like death, and what happens to a person after they die. Is there an afterlife, or is it just eternal darkness? And then I start to panic a little bit because I’m afraid of the dark, and eternal dark would really suck. I wonder if maybe this is going to be the night that I fall asleep and don’t wake up in the morning. And I wonder if my wife will ever be convicted of the murder.
When I finally work my way through the depressing blackness of my own soul, this is typically when I begin to doze off. The ideas in my head begin to break apart and focus on less important things like: Why aren’t there any animals with just one eye? How do you describe what chicken tastes like? Why do they call it celery root? It is neither celery, nor a root. And, do dogs ever accidentally step in their own poop?
This is also the time when flawed logical concepts start to make sense. For example: if I drive 80 miles per hour for 45 minutes, then stop for 15 minutes for gas and maybe a snack, I only averaged 60 miles per hour. So, is it really speeding? Think about this factoid some night when you are only half awake and see if it doesn’t make sense to you as well.
Each night, sleep does at last arrive. Unfortunately, it generally doesn’t last. I am a very light sleeper, and I find myself waking up several times during the night for no apparent reason. As I grow older, bodily imperatives such as a desperate need to pee every night have added to the number of times I wake. I find this terribly inconvenient, however I have to admit there is an upside to the situation.
I have discovered that frequently, when I wake up in the middle of the night, it is right in the middle of a dream. As a writer, these ephemeral events in my head have been the basis for several short stories and have even triggered ideas for a novel or two. To take full advantage of these moments, I have begun to keep a notebook beside my bed, so I can write down whatever it is that I’m thinking about when I wake up. This way I don’t just forget about the idea later.
Recently, I was flipping through my bedside notebook and came across entries for spinach-flavored bubble gum, and a giraffe with three teeth. Not exactly useful stuff. I realize that not every idea can be a winner.
Maybe I just need more sleep.