I have a ritual I do to help me to sleep
You could pretty much sum up this entire blog with the following set of words:
- Dating
- Rum/Chili
- Observations
- Family
- Insomnia
While the first four things are (generally) good things, that last one is assuredly not. It’s wretched misery.
Insomnia has been an unwelcome constant throughout my life but I had a breakthrough a few years ago when I started thinking of it being similar to alcoholism.
After all, an alcoholic has to accept that (a) he’s an alcoholic, (b) at any moment it can take over every aspect of his life, and (c) it’s not a personal thing – it affects everyone around him.
So it is with insomnia.
I still get invited to a lot of things; a by-product of my old credo to never turn down an invitation.
But do turn them down now. Because I have a set of rules to keep control of the insomnia.
I:
- Have a curfew – anything that’s not an ebook reader is turned off by 10PM and I’m in bed by 10:30 PM.
- Stop drinking anything with caffeine after 3PM.
- Stop eating after 7PM.
- Try to take a bath when I have time.
- Read before bed and in bed. I also keep a book nearby to help.
- Exercise at least four days a week. More if I have the time.
- Take melatonin every night. Harder stuff if I need it.
- Stretch and meditate/pray for a few minutes every night.
- Keep a different types of blankets on hand so I’m always comfortable.
- Keep my phone or something to write on next to my bed so I’m not awaking telling myself to remember something.
The good byproduct of my insomnia is that I speak rudimentary German, I often find chili waiting for me when I wake up, and I look pretty good for a 40 year old.
And the bad? Well, you know those invitations you send out on Facebook to be friends with someone? Many of those are unanswered.
Can’t blame them. I was a truly terrible person when I didn’t sleep. You know how short tempered and irritable you are when you haven’t slept?
That was the majority of the 90s and 2000s for me.
I want to say, I’m sorry. It wasn’t me, it was the lack of sleep.
But that’s just it, isn’t it? It’s like alcoholism. It was me. It was the worst version of me, but it was me.
You can apologize all you want but in the end, you’re the one that chose to pick up the bottle. I’m the one that didn’t treat it like something that was ruining my life and people around me.
But like everything else, I’m trying to do better.
There’s slightly less chili in the house but it’s a fair trade. I’m down to about one terribly sleepless night a week.
Her: How’d you sleep?
Me: (grumble)
Location: gonna see El for dinner
Mood: achy
Music: think I’m breaking down and I’m afraid to sleep
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