Archives for category: Sleepless Nights

I’m perched on this bench in the gloom of predawn darkness, just before daybreak. The world seems quiet, from here. I could pick up my phone and eliminate the darkness, and wreck the peace of this moment immediately. I like the quiet, and choose to enjoy it, instead.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

I’m tired this morning. The last handful of nights have been interrupted. I sigh quietly. It could be worse. My anxiety used to wreck my sleep over a ticking clock, or the quiet drip of a faucet.

My relationship with sleep has been problematic since childhood. Sleepwalking at 3 years old became, over time and additional life experience, nightmares, night terrors, sleep paralysis, exploding head dreams, and insomnia. I could probably clean up on a sleep disturbance-themed bingo game. My difficulties with sleep peaked with an aversion to sleep that eventually developed out of the terror of domestic violence. That was a lifetime ago, in another place, and in the context of a relationship that is long gone and behind me. (I’m grateful to have survived.)

Sleep disorders and difficulties with sleep are pretty common for people.

In still another relationship, a threesome of us cohabitating, my sleep was commonly wrecked by OPD (Other People’s Drama). My two partners argued (loudly) often during the wee hours of the night, and the way the floor plan was designed sort of funneled all of the sound directly towards my room. When I complained,  I was told firmly that my sleep problems were my own problem and to deal with it. Rude. Also unkind, unsupportive, and one hundred percent without any regard for their actually terrible behavior, yes, I get that. The view from here is very clear. 😆 I knew the relationship wasn’t going to work, in the long run. We weren’t all on the same page about the sanctity of each other’s sleep.

… One nice thing came out of that; I got an aquarium, and enjoyed nurturing a thriving planted freshwater community tank for many years, that looked amazing in my apartment after I walked away from that unpleasant situation.

… One necessary thing (urgently so at that point) also developed out of my difficulty sleeping, and the degradation of my mental health that progressed quickly from that point; I got into therapy, and began making real progress (such that I did walk away from that abysmal and destructive relationship). My sleep improved quickly from there.

I already had the keys to unlock good sleep “in my hands”, once I was in a safe environment. My current Traveling Partner (and longtime friend) had pointed out to me early in our relationship that my anxiety and frustration about not sleeping was making my insomnia worse, and as I went without good quality restful sleep longer and longer, everything else got much worse, too. What if I could give up the stress about not sleeping and start with being okay with being awake? I would lose the same amount of sleep maybe, but wouldn’t my overall experience be much improved? He definitely turned out to be right about that.

These days, my sleep is not sufficiently poor to bother getting up and doing anything, but for a long time it was, and I did, and that worked out nicely. Even when I was short on sleep, that was no longer compounded by seething fury, resentment, anxiety, or fear of consequences, although I might still be cross about being tired, my days were less affected. It was a major improvement.

These days? Oh. Yeah. My Traveling Partner was right about my apnea, too, and I sleep with a CPAP mask. It has made a huge difference in my quality of rest and ability to actually sleep. (If your partner is griefing you about your snoring, get a damned sleep test, stop being a dick about it, and don’t make them endure a decade of poor quality sleep over your refusal to accept that your snoring is a problem. I promise you it is.)

…My beloved is right about a lot of things. 😂 It can be a little irritating sometimes…

One other suggestion? Don’t make your wakefulness during the night everyone else’s problem. Find something to do, quietly, and let the world sleep. It doesn’t improve anything to disrupt sleep environment of others in your life, and doing so will generate anger and resentment over time. Seriously. If you are seething with frustration, anxiety, dread, or anger during the night, you are compounding the problem of poor sleep with negative emotions that can linger, or worsen your outlook on life needlessly. It doesn’t help you, or anyone else. Learn to calm yourself, then tackle the issue of difficult sleep with a calm mind.

… Definitely don’t wreck a peaceful night with a lot of loud bullshit or drama for fucks sake (anything one might wish to discuss contentiously can wait for the light of day, I promise), literally no one benefits from that, and it is exceedingly unpleasant…

I breathe, exhale, and relax, grateful to have benefited from my partner’s wisdom.  I’m tired this morning, after several nights of interrupted sleep, but I’m in a decent mood anyway. Progress paying off.

I meditate. Write awhile. Breathe and exist on a chilly autumn morning, grateful to see another sunrise. Gratitude is a very pleasant feeling. I lean into it, embrace it, immerse myself in it; it is an excellent start to the day. The dawn sky is a delicate seashell pink. The dark green trees silhouetted on the horizon are edged here and there with hints of autumn, gold and rusty red.

I get to my feet, looking down the path as I stretch. It’s a good time to begin again.

It is the dawn of a new day. Yesterday’s mistakes and stepped on boundaries are in the past. This is a completely new and different moment. I walk down the dark marsh trail, following the circle of light provided by my headlamp.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

I get to a pleasing stopping point. A favorite fallen log at the edge of a grassy hillside dotted with oak trees makes a decent seat. I wait, watching the eastern horizon for first light on this cloudy morning. I sit with my thoughts, reflecting on a theory my Traveling Partner shared with me recently, about a recurring theme in my artwork, “the nightmare city”. It is my rendering of a dream, a nightmare, that I have had on a recurring basis for many years. I maybe don’t remember not having this nightmare (more often than occasionally).

“The Nightmare City” 8″ x 10″ acrylic on canvas w/glow

The dream itself is simple enough. I am in a city. It seems peculiarly “hollowed out”, as if the buildings are all fake, just facades standing in neat rows. There is a background glow, but it’s hard to tell if it is lights left on, or fire, or warfare. I am walking briskly towards some point in the distance, then running breathlessly but wanting very much to stop. I usually wake before I reach that distant point, heart pounding, breathless, and frightened. Sometimes I’m in it, trapped, hurtling towards some point, when a loud blast of noise hits me with physical force, and there is a sort of popping noise and a flash of light, and so much pain. I wake, grateful to have found my way from the nightmare city, again.

The Nightmare City, some other night, different lighting.

I’ve painted the nightmare city several times. Sketched it. Painted in acrylic, with a ton of glow. Painted in watercolor, ephemeral and surreal. Painted in pastels, a city in flames and as a forlorn abandoned place that can’t harm me now. My nightmares draw me back into that strange city again and again, as if there is something unspoken that wants a voice…

Another version, “Urban Warfare”, rendered in pastels, in 2024, when old trauma and new wars collide in my dreams.

My Traveling Partner only shared his theory when I insisted I’d really like to know his thoughts. He shared his impression that it may be a remnant of “the last thing I saw” before (more specifically as) I injured my head. I don’t recall my injury with any clarity, at all. Hints of partial recollections of fragments of vague memories that generally my consciousness mind has difficulty approaching. A sense of…flight? A gasp, like a final deep breath before plunging into darkness? A distant point of perspective that rushes towards me without properly changing as the distance draws near. An explosion of light? Nothing useful. The official version, when anyone would discuss it with me at all, much later in life, was that I fell down some stairs, maybe (and now can we please talk about something else?).

“Daylight Comes to the Nightmare City”, in pastels, 2026.

My Traveling Partner finally admitted, he sees something characteristic and distinct about my nightmare city paintings; to him they can also potentially be seen as a staircase, or bannister finial, from the perspective of hurtling towards it head first. “Once I realized, I can’t unsee it,” he said. Since he shared that with me, I see it too. I touch the small triangular “divet” I feel on my forehead, and trace the cracks I feel under the skin that radiate out from there, to my hairline, and down into my right eye socket.

… And I wonder…

… Trauma is weird. I still see the city, the road leading away, and feel a strangely nauseous feeling when I contemplate walking down that peculiarly dark street as it seems to narrow towards a point. In my dreams, I never quite reach whatever waits at the other end of the road…

For no obvious reason, I hear a Sam Cooke song in my head as I sit with my thoughts,  “… What a wonderful world this would be…”. I sit in the stillness of a summer morning betwixt meadow and marsh, waiting for the sun. Waiting to understand something just out of reach of any clear memories. There’s rarely much anger left over this broken brain – there are more important things to be angry about, these days. I’m okay with who I am, most of the time. I’m grateful for my Traveling Partner, for his kindness not rushing to put ideas in my head out of compassion and love, and for sharing his thoughts willingly and gently when pressed. Considering I really don’t remember my injury, having hints and insights helps me process the unknown, and even the potentially unknowable.

… I’m okay with the uncertainty; I am loved. I can begin again, as often as I need to, in order to heal and grow, and walk on.  I look down the path fearlessly. I am awake, and safe, and life is pretty good. I smile, thinking soft happy thoughts about my partner, my best friend. I get to my feet, grateful, humming some tune that is stuck in my my head…

… What a wonderful world it would be…

I’d give last night only 1 star, if I were asked to rate it. I guess I’m grateful I don’t have to write a review of a crappy night.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

The news is grim, and mostly outside my control, so I attempt to shrug off the worst of humanity: the genocides, the corruption of powerful people, war, the high cost of groceries and gas, and even general ignorance and incivility. None of that reaches me on the trail in the morning. I’m grateful to get a break from all that crap, even if only by being alone for awhile.

I slept badly. My sleep was poor and interrupted, broken into basically two hour chunks. That kind of shitty night does not result in adequate rest, at all. So… here I am, not well-rested, on a Thursday morning. A work day. This is less than ideal… but it could be worse.

… Later, I see the dentist 😆…

I get to my halfway point, fatigued and frustrated. The walking is an effort this morning. I feel as if I’m pulling myself along, while also pushing myself reluctantly down the trail. My boots feel heavy. I feel slow. I sit down on this bench, grateful it’s here. I look at the night sky. No moon. Few stars. The dismal darkness is already color shifting to something a bit more blue. Daybreak soon. G’damn I’m so tired.

Bad nights happen, eh?

I breathe, exhale, and relax. Meditation. Writing. Watching the darkness dissipate, becoming a new day. It’s a familiar routine, and in the familiarity, I find some comfort and a new beginning. Fatigue? More coffee! Stupid and a temporary solution at best. It’s not sustainable. Fortunately, it’s rare for me to have a profoundly poor night’s sleep these days, although they often cluster together. I stare at the peculiar predawn blue hue of the sky, no longer quite night, not yet day.

My mind wanders into the surreal space of a brief “micro sleep”. I don’t realize it until I shift abruptly back to being quite awake. My CPAP machine is quite effective, but its power to improve my sleep does not do anything to prevent me being wakened by my Traveling Partner’s own difficulty with sleeping. I sigh to myself.

… For an extra bit of “fun” (it wasn’t), I clumsily managed to toss my morning medications into the air with a twitch of my wrist. With the help of my headlamp I find most of them. The ones that have gone entirely missing, I have backups for. Not my first time at this. 😆

I’m still yawning when the first hint of the sunrise comes. I shrug to myself. Things could be worse. I’ll deal with it, with some patience and self-compassion – and a lot of coffee.

I sigh again, as I get to my feet.  Blah blah,  something about beginning again. 😆 I’ll do my best – that’s all I’ve got. I squint at the rising sun. This path won’t walk itself. Time to get on with it.

I woke groggy, struggling to fully wake, and feeling clumsy. My sleep was oddly restless, my dreams filled my mind to overflowing. My Traveling Partner communicated his own poor sleep as I prepared to leave for my walk. No harsh words or raised voices between us, just sharing. Uncertain that I really had the wherewithal even to walk a well-maintained and partially lit trail, I picked up coffee on my way.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

I reached the trailhead still feeling so ridiculously groggy, I reclined the drivers seat, and closed my eyes for a moment, “just a quick power nap” I thought to myself as I closed my eyes.

… I woke an hour later, just as daybreak began to yield to the rising sun…

The dawn of a new day… I rub the sleep from my eyes, swallow about half of my now-tepid coffee. It’s not great. I grimace at the aftertaste and step onto the trail.

The eastern sky is a pale wash of peach and orange fading into blue overhead, swept with gray clouds. I keep walking until I reach my halfway point. My mind doesn’t wander far from the path this morning, and I’m still sleepy. Wtf? So groggy…

A cloudy morning, no rain.

The western sky is cloudy, with nothing much to see. A little like the clouds sweeping across the eastern sky reached the western horizon and hit a wall, crumbling there and piling against each other. I yawn unexpectedly, although predictably, still groggy. Thursday? Thursday. I’ve got a doctor’s appointment and later a dentist appointment, too. Another yawn. For fucks sake, there’s an entire day yet ahead of me and I’m still struggling to wake up, a mile down this trail! I laugh to myself, grateful for a new day.

Watching the striped layers of clouds changing colors as the sun rises.

I yawn again and get to my feet. I may as well finish this walk and enjoy it. There’s more coffee on the other side… and I can begin the day from there.

I haven’t slept much. I got up as planned, and it definitely felt too early. Vertigo (mild) and a headache (about average) greeted me as I opened my eyes. I dressed and left the house making a point to grab my respirator on the way out; air quality has been unpredictable and often hazardous. I check the AQI before I go.

… I am grateful to see another sunrise…

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

I get to the trailhead at the nature park as the gate grinds open. It’s daybreak and there is a dense white mist in the low places. The horizon is an irritated dirty orange, hazy and unhealthy looking. There are several active wildfires to the east, unsurprising given the color of the sunrise.

The morning feels cool, in spite of being rather warm, relatively speaking. Nice morning for walking. I get to my halfway point pretty quickly this morning, after setting a brisk pace and staying focused on the walking.

Perspective matters. (Oaks on a dry grassy meadow slope.)

I’m so tired. I never went soundly back to sleep after I had gotten up to pee, last night. Various noises (and sometimes my Traveling Partner) woke me again and again, each time just as I was settling into a deeper sleep. It was a difficult night. My beloved seemed to be asleep as I left the house. It’s hard to be sure. I hope so. After a night like that, he definitely needs some sleep. I’m grateful that it is Saturday. Maybe I can grab a nap later?

Sleep difficulties are vexing. I’ve had a difficult relationship with sleep all my life. Nightmares. Sleep paralysis. Somnambulance. Exploding head dreams. Night terrors. Insomnia. Circadian rhythm disturbances from shift work. Sleep aversion. My problematic relationship with sleep began when I was a toddler and continues into the present, although far less severe now.

I can thank my Traveling Partner for a large part of my improved relationship with sleep. During our first year living together, he observed that if I could reduce my anxiety about being awake, I would at least be able to find some way to make use of the time, possibly even enjoy it. He was right. Removing the anxiety and frustration made the wakefulness itself inconsequential, and from there I learned to (mostly) make some gentle use of wakeful hours during the night. At some point there was less wakefulness, though I still have occasional difficult or sleepless nights. I no longer take them so personally. My sleep hygiene has improved, too. All of it matters.

I stretch and yawn. The stretch feels good. The sun continues to rise. A new day. Promising – but aren’t they all?

I sigh to myself. The difficult night makes my mind fuzzy. Housework and painting maybe? I thought maybe driving my RC car would be fun, but it’s going to be another very hot day, and if the AQI increases in the afternoon, as it did yesterday, maybe Sunday would be better? I don’t know. I’m glad I’m already done with doing Amazon returns for my beloved. I’d surely mix them up operating under this amount of bleary-eyed fatigue, today. Housework would be a more productive use of my time, today. I don’t know.

… I remind myself to get coffee beans…

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I can slow down and let the day unfold gently on its own terms. That works too. I look down the trail, the brown meadow grasses turned to gold by the rising sun. It’s a beautiful time to begin again.