It had been a long, hot, exhausting day. One of THOSE days. A day filled with irritating little things that added up to one big UGH! In the grand scheme of things, I had nothing to complain about – I knew that – but it didn’t keep me from grumbling. It’s curious how we do that. It would seem as though the grumbling would serve as a release to make one feel better, but that really isn’t how it plays out. The grumbling feeds the negative energy and contributes to a downward spiral that leads to the land of BLAH. Truth be told, even I had had enough of my own company for the day. In fact, thinking back to when my boys were little, had they been grumbling as I had been, I would have sent them promptly to bed. Hmmm . . . that says a lot. It’s quite telling when you are irritated by your own company.
I was more than ready to climb into bed and call it a day. I glanced at the clock and paused. Was it time? Was it too early? I listened. The house was quiet. Everyone had said their ‘goodnights’, and Zoe was snuggled deeply into the pillows on the couch. Her rhythmic breathing was a clear sign that she was already visiting the characters in dreamland. Perhaps it was time for me to do the same. I imagined the cool, crisp sheets lightly touching my skin, the plush mattress giving me the feeling of weightlessness, and my three favorite pillows taking up much more than my fair share of the bed. This almost made me smile. I didn’t, of course, because that would have shattered the seemingly perfect level of crankiness I had achieved.
I shifted my weight on the couch, and Zoe opened one eye. She cautiously peered over at me – half asleep and half ready for adventure. I ruffled the hair on the top of her head and said, “Come on, sweetie. Let’s go to bed.” I slowly began to rise, but Zoe sprang into action and bounced off the couch. Some dogs walk. Some dogs run. Goldendoodles bounce . . . a lot! When her feet hit the wooden floor, she struggled to gain some traction and literally scrambled like a cartoon character attempting to make a hasty getaway. Despite my mood, I chuckled and felt some relief from the tension that had been building all day. Once again, Super Doodle to the rescue!
A short while later, I slipped between the cool sheets, placed my head on the soft pillow, and exhaled slowly. What a day it had been. It felt good to let it go. I enjoyed the light breeze from the ceiling fan and soaked up the glorious stillness of the house. Lying by the window, I could hear the bullfrogs croaking, I could see the fireflies dancing, and I could almost feel the decorative backyard grasses swaying in the wind. It was so peaceful – dreamlike. Zoe had settled back down, my husband was sound asleep, and I . . . was staring at the ceiling. I couldn’t sleep. Seriously?! I looked at the clock, and as I did so, I realized that it had begun. The perfectly patterned behavior. The consistent choreography. The challenging dance of insomnia.
I was introduced to this dance when I was in the seventh grade. Instead of sleeping, I’d lie in bed thinking of the many things I wished I’d said (or wouldn’t have said) and worrying about the things that could potentially happen in the future (but probably wouldn’t). This creative process afforded me the ability to write and re-write all sorts of alternative realities in my mind – the fabulous ways my life could unfold or the unspeakable disasters that could present. I experimented with a variety of strategies to help me fall asleep, but nothing yielded consistent results. The only thing that had any reliability was the dance itself – repeatedly looking at the clock, making note of the time, calculating how much sleep I could potentially get if I were to “fall asleep right now”, and ultimately feeling the effects of a sleepless night the next morning.
In some ways, I’ve come to respect this dance. While frustrating, I understand it’s my mind’s way of forcing me into the present. I don’t like it, but I understand it. I used to wake my husband and ask if he wanted to talk. He patiently, but consistently, made it quite clear that he most assuredly did not. Many nights, I chose to read, write, or tackle the papers I needed to grade, but I eventually realized those activities were stimulating my brain. They distracted me from the thoughts that were keeping me awake, but they weren’t helping me to achieve the dream – literally. These days, I’ve come to a completely different place. Acceptance. Believe me, it’s not the ideal. I’d rather join Zoe in dreamland. But, it removes the pressure and stops the dance. I focus on my breath, listen to the comforting sounds in the night air, and count the many ways in which I’ve been blessed. Breathing. Listening. Counting. So simple, and yet so powerful. These three things alone completely reset the mind and mood. And, when morning comes? Well, there’s always tea.