I had one of them last night: a nighttime defined by restlessness, tossing and turning to get comfortable, eyeing the hands of the clock every fifteen minutes. No matter how hard I tried, a parade of thoughts marched relentlessly through my mind. I keep a notepad by my bed, a habit begun in college, hoping that if I jotted down the repetitive thoughts, the list of “don’t forgets,” I could quiet my noisy brain and lull myself back to sleep. When that failed, I tried meditating, focusing on each breath, until finally, I dozed off, only to waken an hour later and repeat the cycle. I gave up at 5:30 a.m. and lay quietly until six, when my dog, who’s adopted my routine, stretched herself awake, ready for our early morning walk.
It happens to all of us at some time or another. Whether it’s the result of the day’s work, worry about a loved one or the doctor’s appointment you have the next afternoon, anticipating all the day’s tasks that must be accomplished, sleep eludes you and you become a temporary insomniac.
A couple of years ago, I suffered from another of those sleepless nights, admitted defeat and got up to tiptoe into my office. I figured that if I couldn’t sleep, I might as well get some writing done. I discovered I was not alone. Within minutes I received an email from a friend in the midst of treatment for metastatic breast cancer. Unable to sleep, she had written about her illness and what it meant to be given a diagnosis of “terminal,” before sending it out on email to several of her friends. I responded immediately, and for a time, we communicated via email—solace shared in the wee hours of morning.
Poets and writers know the darkness of early morning hours well. Long, sleepless nights have been a theme in countless poems, stories or essays, as James Joyce’s poem, “Sleep Now, O Sleep Now,” exemplifies:
Sleep now, O sleep now,
O you unquiet heart!
A voice crying “Sleep now”
Is heard in my heart.
The voice of the winter
Is heard at the door.
O sleep, for the winter
Is crying “Sleep no more…
Charles Dickens also commented on sleepless nights, illustrating what he termed, “the duality of the brain:”
But, it happened to me the other night to be lying: not with my eyes half closed, but with my eyes wide open; not with my nightcap drawn almost down to my nose, for on sanitary principles I never wear a nightcap: but with my hair pitchforked and touzled all over the pillow; not just falling asleep by any means, but glaringly, persistently, and obstinately, broad awake. Perhaps, with no scientific intention or invention, I was illustrating the theory of the Duality of the Brain; perhaps one part of my brain, being wakeful, sat up to watch the other part which was sleepy. Be that as it may, something in me was as desirous to go to sleep as it possibly could be, but something else in me WOULD NOT go to sleep, and was as obstinate as George the Third.—(Excerpt from “Lying Awake,” by Charles Dickens.)
Sleeplessness, the New York Times’ Health Guide suggests, “can involve difficulty falling asleep…waking up too early in the morning, or waking up often during the night…or combinations of these patterns.” Everyone has an occasional sleepless night…as many as 25% of Americans report occasional sleeping problems. Chronic sleeping problems, however, affect about 10% of people. The lack of restful sleep can affect your ability to carry out daily responsibilities because you are too tired or have trouble concentrating. All types of insomnia can lead to daytime drowsiness, poor concentration, and the inability to feel refreshed and rested in the morning.”
It’s true; it’s only mid-morning as I write this post, but while my dog sleeps peacefully at my feet, I’m yawning and planning for a short afternoon nap to revive me—a habit of so-called “power napping” I developed during my corporate years and continued ever since. Although I practice sleep inducing behaviors at night—mild exercise after supper, herbal tea, a good book–like Dickens, while one part of my brain longs for sleep, the other part is busy with random ideas, details or tasks I have before me, or, in the advent of the December holidays, a list of “to-dos” that expands daily—all contributing to my temporary life as an insomniac. Drat!
In the black hours when I lie sleepless,
near drowning, dread-heavy, your face
is the bright lure I look for, love’s hook
piercing me, hauling me cleanly up.
(From “Mermaid Song” by Kim Addonizio, in Tell Me, 2000)
Do you suffer from nights where your brain refuses to be lulled into sleep? Do you endure sleepless nights? What thoughts or images invade your mind and keep you awake? Do you birth poetry or prose in the darkness of the night? Is there a period in your life when you suffered from more sleepless nights than restful ones? Write about sleep—and sleeplessness.
When I get anxious about my kids it’s hard to sleep, but typically I sleep pretty “hard,” which I think is a migraine symptom. I do sometimes think of important things to jot down and keep a pad by the bed. On a board I frequent a lot of middle-aged women were saying that they are having terrible trouble sleeping at night. I was surprised by the percentage, which was very very high.
I remember those days well–especially when they were ill or, later, teens out and missing curfew! But apparently …we sleep ‘lighter” — less soundly as we grow older…But our lives are often filled with so much stress–even watching the news at night can become an impetus for troublesome dreams… Thanks for your comment.
–Sharon