Sleep, perchance to dream
When I was a kid, I suppose I slept a normal amount. I don't recall much about it except the extreme difficulty I had in getting up for school, and how absurdly late I'd sleep on the weekends. I also remember one peculiar standout. When I was 8 or 9, my sister came to wake me on Christmas Eve around 3 am. Normally, it was almost impossible for me to get up, much less get myself out of bed. I was a late bedwetter precisely because I slept so heavily. But she told me Santa had come, and I was up like a bolt. I remember that even at the time, I was freaked out by this. I was instantly fully awake without any of the lethargy or mobility/coordination problems I usually had. I puzzled over it later and never could work out what happened there.
As a teen I slept more. I learned out to lucid dream and loved sleeping. It was a hallucinagenic trip of no responsibility. I went to college and got married soon after. In college, my difficulty in getting myself out of bed was a constant source of friction between my husband and I. He slept 6-7 hours a night, while I was more 10-12. He was baffled and frustrated. He'd wake horny while I was still nearly comatose. I grew to hate morning sex, which led to my rape a little further down the line when I finally said no, absolutely not, not doing it, not going to lay here while you do it, not cooperating and in fact actively objecting. Not that that worked, but I list it as a point in my sleep history.
I went to work professionally, which required getting to work at 8 am every day. 3M was somewhat open-minded, so when I came in late, I could make it up by working late. That was fine with me, because I generally couldn't get to sleep before midnight anyway. My home life was horrible - small child with colic, abusive husband, 1200 miles from friends or family. Not that I had much in the way of friends.
As the marriage progressed and I aged, I slept less and less. The last few years I was married, my memory is that I tended to sleep 4-5 hours a night with occasional binges of 10 hours. Work trips were especially awesome because I'd fall asleep as soon as I got to the hotel and be blissfully out until the alarm went off. At home, I had to share a bed with my husband, whom I had come to loathe and dread. He snored heavily. He frequently stopped breathing and would half-wake gasping with a minor convulsion, neither of which he'd remember later. He sweated profusely. At least once every week or two and sometimes several times in a week, he would have a diabetic seizure while in bed, which would require me getting enough glucose into him for him to recover. He usually stayed up until 2-3 am in the morning and when he came into the bedroom, he'd turn on all the lights, leave the door to the adjoining bathroom open, and make a lot of noise. He would often wake me deliberately to tell me something - either something I needed to do the next day, or merely so he could vent about some idiot he was arguing with on the internet, or what the most recent dumb politician did. No surprise then that I slept badly. My attempts to sneak off and sleep on the couch were thwarted - he'd wake me and refuse to stop until I went to the bedroom. Then after a half hour, he'd come in himself. No escape, except for me to get up, get moving, and not sleep. Like I said, 4-5 hours a night, the bare minimum a person can get by on for a long period.
After separation and during the divorce process, I still slept lightly and not much, though the time lengthened out to 5-6 hours, then 6, then after the divorce, it crept up to averaging 6 and a half. I was keeping track at that point and intermittantly working on what I needed to do to get a decent night's sleep. The trauma books call this disorder hypervigilance. Work trips still knocked me right out and I'd get a great night's sleep in a hotel every time. I guess it was a 'safe' environment as far as the primitive part of my brain was concerned.
My ex died last year. Since that day, I've been sleeping with my boyfriend. Sometimes I don't want him in the bed or the bedroom. I still want him in my life at those moments, but I feel weirdly territorial about having him in my space all the time. Plus, it seems to play a factor in my inability to get to sleep. It's not that I can't get to sleep, but more that I can't bring myself to get into my pajamas, get in bed, lie down, shut my eyes, and try to sleep. A lot of things in me freak out and reject that, almost to the point of being panicky. I've sat in the living room with the lights off, staring at the darkness because I couldn't make myself go to the bedroom. I've tried lying on the couch, but I get even more uneasy doing that, constantly wondering if the boyfriend is going to come in and see where I am. Which he's not the sort to repeat my ex's terrorizing, but I still have that in my head. I've tried meditating, which hasn't gone well. My ability to retreat into my own head without a constant running Heroes-related fantasy occupying my thoughts is pretty poor. And when I do have such a fantasy ... well, that's not meditating.
Several months ago, I got hurt, and made a determined effort to get enough sleep so as to speed the healing process. To my surprise, it worked. At least, I was able to sleep 7-8 hours a night. I didn't notice a change in healing, but whatever. Last week, I was sick and did the same thing. Again - I slept peacefully for more like 8-10 hours a night, for nearly a week, without any trouble motivating myself to go in the bedroom and try to rest. As I got better, it shrank to 7 hours and then 6.5 and last night 7 again. I'm struggling with it, though. I don't want to slip back to 6-6.5 until I've had several weeks at the sleep level I'm supposed to be getting for my age and health. The literature says getting enough sleep will do many things I want - make me more creative, more effective, better concentration, faster healing, easier weight loss (though I suspect that's due to not being awake to eat), better immune function, lower blood pressure (not that I really need lower bp). So far, all I've noticed is that I remember my dreams way more. Yesterday's was not pleasant, so I woke myself up out of it.
If increased sleep doesn't give me any of those benefits, then I'll go back to 6-7 hours a night. I like the extra time in my day, for sure. Even if I just surf the net, though I'd prefer to be doing something productive, or writing. Here's to me achieving this goal - of figuring out the right level of sleep for me, instead of letting my anxieties and fears dictate that instead.
As a teen I slept more. I learned out to lucid dream and loved sleeping. It was a hallucinagenic trip of no responsibility. I went to college and got married soon after. In college, my difficulty in getting myself out of bed was a constant source of friction between my husband and I. He slept 6-7 hours a night, while I was more 10-12. He was baffled and frustrated. He'd wake horny while I was still nearly comatose. I grew to hate morning sex, which led to my rape a little further down the line when I finally said no, absolutely not, not doing it, not going to lay here while you do it, not cooperating and in fact actively objecting. Not that that worked, but I list it as a point in my sleep history.
I went to work professionally, which required getting to work at 8 am every day. 3M was somewhat open-minded, so when I came in late, I could make it up by working late. That was fine with me, because I generally couldn't get to sleep before midnight anyway. My home life was horrible - small child with colic, abusive husband, 1200 miles from friends or family. Not that I had much in the way of friends.
As the marriage progressed and I aged, I slept less and less. The last few years I was married, my memory is that I tended to sleep 4-5 hours a night with occasional binges of 10 hours. Work trips were especially awesome because I'd fall asleep as soon as I got to the hotel and be blissfully out until the alarm went off. At home, I had to share a bed with my husband, whom I had come to loathe and dread. He snored heavily. He frequently stopped breathing and would half-wake gasping with a minor convulsion, neither of which he'd remember later. He sweated profusely. At least once every week or two and sometimes several times in a week, he would have a diabetic seizure while in bed, which would require me getting enough glucose into him for him to recover. He usually stayed up until 2-3 am in the morning and when he came into the bedroom, he'd turn on all the lights, leave the door to the adjoining bathroom open, and make a lot of noise. He would often wake me deliberately to tell me something - either something I needed to do the next day, or merely so he could vent about some idiot he was arguing with on the internet, or what the most recent dumb politician did. No surprise then that I slept badly. My attempts to sneak off and sleep on the couch were thwarted - he'd wake me and refuse to stop until I went to the bedroom. Then after a half hour, he'd come in himself. No escape, except for me to get up, get moving, and not sleep. Like I said, 4-5 hours a night, the bare minimum a person can get by on for a long period.
After separation and during the divorce process, I still slept lightly and not much, though the time lengthened out to 5-6 hours, then 6, then after the divorce, it crept up to averaging 6 and a half. I was keeping track at that point and intermittantly working on what I needed to do to get a decent night's sleep. The trauma books call this disorder hypervigilance. Work trips still knocked me right out and I'd get a great night's sleep in a hotel every time. I guess it was a 'safe' environment as far as the primitive part of my brain was concerned.
My ex died last year. Since that day, I've been sleeping with my boyfriend. Sometimes I don't want him in the bed or the bedroom. I still want him in my life at those moments, but I feel weirdly territorial about having him in my space all the time. Plus, it seems to play a factor in my inability to get to sleep. It's not that I can't get to sleep, but more that I can't bring myself to get into my pajamas, get in bed, lie down, shut my eyes, and try to sleep. A lot of things in me freak out and reject that, almost to the point of being panicky. I've sat in the living room with the lights off, staring at the darkness because I couldn't make myself go to the bedroom. I've tried lying on the couch, but I get even more uneasy doing that, constantly wondering if the boyfriend is going to come in and see where I am. Which he's not the sort to repeat my ex's terrorizing, but I still have that in my head. I've tried meditating, which hasn't gone well. My ability to retreat into my own head without a constant running Heroes-related fantasy occupying my thoughts is pretty poor. And when I do have such a fantasy ... well, that's not meditating.
Several months ago, I got hurt, and made a determined effort to get enough sleep so as to speed the healing process. To my surprise, it worked. At least, I was able to sleep 7-8 hours a night. I didn't notice a change in healing, but whatever. Last week, I was sick and did the same thing. Again - I slept peacefully for more like 8-10 hours a night, for nearly a week, without any trouble motivating myself to go in the bedroom and try to rest. As I got better, it shrank to 7 hours and then 6.5 and last night 7 again. I'm struggling with it, though. I don't want to slip back to 6-6.5 until I've had several weeks at the sleep level I'm supposed to be getting for my age and health. The literature says getting enough sleep will do many things I want - make me more creative, more effective, better concentration, faster healing, easier weight loss (though I suspect that's due to not being awake to eat), better immune function, lower blood pressure (not that I really need lower bp). So far, all I've noticed is that I remember my dreams way more. Yesterday's was not pleasant, so I woke myself up out of it.
If increased sleep doesn't give me any of those benefits, then I'll go back to 6-7 hours a night. I like the extra time in my day, for sure. Even if I just surf the net, though I'd prefer to be doing something productive, or writing. Here's to me achieving this goal - of figuring out the right level of sleep for me, instead of letting my anxieties and fears dictate that instead.