Jackie: *shrug* Maybeeee....five hours, six.
Doctor M: You need seven.
Jackie: In a row?
I'll sleep when I die. That's my motto for the most part when it comes to sleep.
I *do* try.
And I don't have it as bad as some people I know. I know folks who are so productive in their sleeplessness. I'm always afraid I'll disrupt the household if I read, sew, clean, DO something. And when I wake up, I can usually turn over and go back to sleep. But then there are those times when I can't. Lately, I can't. My mind is busy. Running. Thinking, Daydreaming (in the night). Creating. Wishing. Wanting. Wondering. Praying. Listening. Convincing.
And the periods of erratic sleep are sometimes days or weeks, not months and months. After this restless period, I'll get superdupertired and my body will just force my sleep into submission and then I sleep well for an extended period of time, meaning I start having a good-sleep phase that typically lasts longer than any sleepless phase I've experienced.
But seven hours? That's pretty rare. On average, I would say I get six.
My Husband and I used to have a television in our bedroom. I love falling asleep to watching television! Somehow, watching TV settles my mind and body. I guess when I get interested in what I'm watching, it focuses my mind so it's not scampering about on various bunny trails. But having the TV in our room disrupts not only My Husband's sleep, it disrupts our communication with each other. So we've moved the TV out. Now, on rare occasion (like tonight), I'll pop a squat on the living room sofa and watch some TV in hopes of falling asleep. But we have a giant flat screen telly that illuminates half the continent. I've found that I'm more stimulated by it rather than soothed. *hits head against the wall*
Tonight, maybe blogging/writing will help.....while I "watch" Daniel Negranu and some hot dude named sexy, young hottie named Lex play poker against Doyle King and some other folks.
There are hopefully moments. A couple of weeks ago, I went to bed at 10 p.m. and got out of bed the next morning at 10 a.m. That felt really good in a way, but my back hurt, and I felt pretty foggy in the noggy (yes, noggy instead of noggin. Just trying to be clever. Did it work?). I had to MAKE myself get out of bed that morning -- I really wanted to stay in bed all day, but my guilt got the best of me.
When my kids tell me they want to be a grown-up, or ask me in objection to words of instruction I've just delievered to them, "Why do adults get to make ALL the decisions?!", I remind them that they will be a kid a shorter amount of time in life than they are adults; and while being an adult has fun moments, it's also filled with a lot of not-so-fun moments. But, in the context of sleep, I'm sort of ready for them to be teenagers so we can all sleep late. My guilt of irresponsible parenting won't rule my sleep. Watch...when they are teenagers, I won't be able to sleep like a teen. *shrug*
Here's hoping, though...
Night-night.
xo
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