Archives for posts with tag: sleep hygiene

My sleep used to be much worse than it is these days. I’m certain the CPAP machine helps (although wearing the mask and the experience of continuous positive air pressure are somewhat unpleasant and took getting used to). Sometimes my sleep is still of poor quality for one reason or another. Sometimes it’s just not enough sleep to feel rested. Sometimes I’m plagued by nightmares. This morning I’m faced with insufficient sleep of poor quality, due to interruptions (noise mostly).

I reliably wake up ridiculously early. Generally at 04:30, probably a lasting byproduct of early mornings in the military, construction, and long commutes for morning shifts of various sort. It requires days of leisure time without an alarm being set to boost my chance at “sleeping in”, and I rarely do. When my Traveling Partner and I were developing our friendship, he had encouraged me to take control of one factor I definitely could control to improve how much sleep I got; my bedtime. He suggested I go to bed earlier, based on when I wake and how much sleep I need (back then I was often up until midnight or later, still up early). It was advice that made a lot of difference for me. I go to bed pretty early as a result, rarely later than 21:00. (He has said, now and then, that he’d enjoy my company and would like me to stay up later, but not only do I still wake up early, I also deal often with interrupted sleep. Going to bed early is my only reliable chance at enough rest.)

Why am I on about sleep and sleep quality this morning? I didn’t sleep well last night, and didn’t get enough rest for the day ahead. It’s occupying my thoughts.

This morning I’m tired. So tired. It was after 21:00 before I went to sleep last night. I woke around 01:50, got up to pee and went back to bed, eventually falling sleep again. Sometime shortly after three, my Traveling Partner woke me. He couldn’t sleep, and was having difficulty breathing. He goes to the living room, wakeful and irritable. I try to return to sleep. Not much success. Every time I start to drift off, another noise wakes me, again. A cough. My partner trying to clear his throat or his sinuses.  The scrape of a chair along the floor. His frustration and sometimes panic feel palpable.

I definitely need more than four and a half hours of sleep, and I keep trying. I’m startled from a sound-but-too-brief moment of sleep by a firm hand knocking at the Anxious Adventurer’s adjacent bedroom door, and my partner’s irritated inquiry. I groan quietly and turn over and try sleep once more.

I drifted in and out of a restless sleep from the time my Traveling Partner woke me until the clock read 05:00 a couple hours later. My head aches. My eyeballs feel gritty and dry. I want literally nothing to do with other people, at all. At least not right now. I dress and leave the house. I don’t feel like walking, either. I just want to be alone with my irritation for awhile. I swing through a local coffee chain for too many shots of espresso over ice, black. Fuck Monday. I’m so not ready for this.

My Traveling Partner had returned to bed as I was leaving for the morning. I hope he gets back to sleep and gets some healthy rest. I get no second chances on a work day. I sigh to myself. It’s not his fault he’s having difficulty sleeping (or breathing).

I’ve set clear healthy reasonable boundaries about my sleep and not waking me if I’m sleeping, unless I’ve asked to be wakened (which I almost never do; I know how to use an alarm clock). I respect the sleep of others. Somehow I have still found myself in partnerships in which my partner(s) have found some justification for waking me, under one circumstance or another (and in some past relationships often). There’s rarely any sort of actual emergency that requires my attention, more that someone “wants a word” or to ask a question, or share a complaint. This frustrates the shit out of me, because it’s already difficult enough to get the rest I need.

Where caregiving or real emergencies are concerned, of course I roll my ass out of bed and do the needful without complaint. Everything else, I try to look past my fatigue and irritation to understand what is going on that might push a person to undermine someone else’s very necessary rest, and I try to be a compassionate and understanding partner, family member, or friend. This morning I’m having to fight through more annoyance than usual; I stayed up later last night to hang out with my Traveling Partner awhile longer, and I’m paying for it with lack of sleep. It feels “unfair”, but it isn’t really about that, and it’s definitely not personal. I made a choice. Just damned annoying that this is the outcome.

… I’m so fucking tired…

It’s been many days since I slept deeply through the night and woke feeling rested. I remind myself that it could be worse. I once endured more than a decade of sleep so poor I counted it a good night if I got even two hours of unbroken sleep, and rarely slept more than four hours total in a night. This is not that.

A new day will dawn. We can begin again.

I sit quietly at a local trailhead, listening to rain tapping the roof of my Traveling Partner’s truck. It’s comfortable and warm, and I am alone with my thoughts and my coffee. I definitely don’t feel like dealing with people right now. I’m tired, headachey, and irritable. Unfit for company. It’s too early for work. I don’t feel like walking.

I breathe, exhale, and relax, and focus on sorting myself out to face the day ahead. Soon enough I’ll have to begin again. I’ll do my best. It will have to be enough.

The first hints of daybreak touch the sky as the rain starts again. I waited out the darkness, after getting to the trailhead early (so early). It was raining, then, and may be raining when I finally start walking. I don’t know. It’s not the most important detail.

Daybreak on a rainy autumn morning.

My mind is cluttered and full of chaos. I half-woke ridiculously early, to the sound of my aggravated Traveling Partner swearing about something (probably about being awake). Some brief time later, (minutes or seconds, I don’t know), he specifically wakes me to check on me. I get up to pee, just to be certain I could just go back to sleep and not have biology waking me prematurely in another hour or two. The next couple of hours pass restlessly; I’d fall asleep, be wakened by some noise or other, and drop off again. At some point I remember beginning, finally, to sink into a really deep sleep. “At last,” I remember thinking contentedly, “sleep. Real sleep.” I woke again, when my Traveling Partner went back to bed. Fuck. I knew I wouldn’t go back to sleep, even as tired as I was. I could feel my brain getting going, preparing for a new day, and I was suddenly aware of an owl hooting loudly somewhere nearby. G’damn it. I went ahead and got up, dressed, and left the house.

… How the absolute fuck is my sleep this g’damned bad even after all these years and so much careful practice, good sleep hygiene, treating my apnea, adding a  noise masking device to my sleep space… Part of me wants to be really angry about this – but part of me recognizes that the anger itself only further impairs healthy rest (for me). I let it go, but resolve to ask my beloved to please just not wake me when I’m sleeping unless there is some emergency. I’ve got to get some fucking sleep (and I know he understands, as someone with sleep challenges, himself). I rarely have the opportunity to go back to bed later on, and get that lost rest. Working a full-time corporate job really limits that potential.

This morning I’m very tired, my head aches, and my eyes feel gritty. I have errands to run, and a business trip to prepare for.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. The morning is a bleak foreboding gray. I listen to the geese overhead, and the tinnitus in my ears. This morning the tinnitus is so annoying that if I thought pithing myself with an ice pick might be helpful in a practical way, I’d probably do it. (Do not do that!!) My tinnitus definitely gets worse and louder over time as I lose sleep. I remind myself that tonight is another night, tomorrow another day; this will pass.

I sip the hot (now only warm) coffee I picked up at the gas station on my way out of town after filling the gas tank. It’s a genuinely bad cup of coffee, acidic and somehow vaguely sludgy. It’s still coffee. Who the hell knows how long real coffee will still even be available? Instead of pouring it out wastefully because it’s terrible, I sip it slowly, letting the caffeine (and the ritual of morning coffee) do its work. I stay in the moment, present, aware, sipping this coffee and appreciating that I have it. Dawn comes. A new day. I’m cross and tired and vexed by physical pain. I look down the trail irritably, aware that I’ll likely feel better on the other side of my walk, in spite of the lack of sleep, and I’m stupidly also managing to be annoyed about that (which just makes no damned sense).

… I try not to dwell on this fucking headache or my arthritis pain…

I look back over my writing, checking for spelling mistakes and incoherence. (Huh. I bitch too much.) I sigh to myself, impatient with my very human limitations. I stretch and grab my cane and my rain poncho. All I can do is my best, and that path begins right here, now, in this moment. It’s time to begin again, again.

Why bother? Why bother trying? Why bother working so hard? Why bother “fighting it”? Why bother making the extra effort to get some particular outcome? Just… why bother, at all? The shortest answer for that one that I’ve got, myself, is simply this; because I’m better than the challenge I’m faced with right now. That’s it.

Things could be worse, for just about any of us. Some momentary challenge is not enough to amount to an excuse not to make an effort to do a better job of being the person I most want to be, to live a good quality life built on healthy values lived authentically, and to just maybe also manage to be helpful, kind, encouraging, curious, compassionate, approachable, considerate, thoughtful, fair-minded, and ethical (if not every minute of every day, then doing my best to be these things in as many moments as I realistically can be)… these are all qualities I value. So… I try. I practice. I share honest insights into my challenges. I work on bettering myself and contributing positively to my household, my community, and my world, if only in some small way. I mean, seriously? I’m one woman; I’m not moving any mountains by myself with a teaspoon, and determination. Not in this lifetime. My actions and choices of words still make a difference in the moments I live and in my interactions with others. I try to stay mindful of the implied power this does have, and do my best to be a basically decent human being, day-to-day. Don’t you? (If not, why not? The answer to that question is an exercise for the reader.)

Holiday lights at 04:30.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. It’s a new day. I woke at some ridiculous hour – 3 am? Maybe. I didn’t check the time, I just wanted to sleep. I could hear my Traveling Partner awake in the other room, blowing his nose. It sucks that he’s awake dealing with his sinuses and struggling to breathe. I fall asleep, wishing he could sleep, too. Some time later, I’m awakened again. It sounded as if my beloved was clearing his throat and blowing his nose right outside the door. I know that’s not the case. He’s most likely seated at the dining table, which is at the end of the hall, opposite the door to this bedroom. The sound is basically piped straight to the door. I sigh, and roll over, and return to sleep. A short while later (I think), I’m awakened again. I’ve no idea if a long while has passed or only a few minutes. I’m groggy. My head aches, and my eyeballs feel gritty. The room feels too hot. I toss around for a moment or two “trying to get comfortable” again. No luck. I must have drifted off, though, into a sound deep sleep, because the next thing I recall is my partner calling to me softly in the darkness, but I don’t recall the question, or whether I understood. I struggled to wake enough to respond to him – I wanted to sleep so badly. The door closed quietly. I know I said something…but I’m not sure what, and the uncertainty itself, and a sudden concern that I would somehow be infinitely trapped in a pattern of waking from deep sleeps without being able to get rest, ever, fully woke me. I could not even imagine returning to sleep. I turn on a light and struggle to sit up. Vertigo. The room reels for a moment, before things steady, and the vertigo passes quickly. I’m grateful for that, and get up to use the bathroom and splash cold water on my face, still trying to really fully wake and maybe somehow manage to feel rested in spite of the interrupted sleep. Restless nights happen now and then, for one or the other of us. After so many years, I generally just move on from it, and practice letting shit go, because there’s no real value in taking an unpleasant tone over a sleep scenario neither of us can change. Sometimes one of us is wakeful. Sometimes we sleep badly. He greets me with a smile and sweet words when I enter the livingroom. I put on my boots and my cardigan and kiss him on my way out.

Holy shit I’m in a ton of pain this morning – and as I drive to the office, I wonder whether my pain was making me restless in my sleep, without waking me, but enough to disturb my Traveling Partner’s rest? Seems possible. Fucking hell, I feel bad for the both of us this morning. I hope he manages to go back to bed for awhile.

Another breath. Another exhalation. Another attempt to fully relax and let stress and pain fall by the wayside. Sometimes it works. Sometimes it’s just practice. Does it matter which it will be? No, I’ve still got to make the effort; it’s the consistent practice that creates incremental change over time. I sigh to myself, and glare at my packed meeting calendar. Tuesday. Fuck. Well, I won’t get much else done than meetings, today, but they are the plan, and that’s what I’ll do. I smile happily when the thought of my beloved’s birthday crosses my mind; my time off for that day is approved. I grin to myself. It’s not that we have elaborate plans, I simply enjoy the man’s company. I’m happy we’re together. He’s worth celebrating, and as I consider the man and the moment, my heart fills with joy.

…For a moment I forget about the pain…

I look at the clock. Always ticking. It’s a new day, and new opportunity to be the woman I most want to be. Feels like I’m off to a good start, this morning, in spite of feeling less than ideally well rested, and a little groggy. I think of the holidays ahead. This year won’t be lavish – everything costs more in Trump’s America, and resources are more limited. That won’t stop the holidays from being magical – I’ve done plenty with less, in years past. It’s more about presence than presents, anyway, isn’t it? I remind myself to propose board games of an evening, or a hand or two of cribbage… Maybe a walk or a drive to see the holiday lights? We’ve got so many ways to enjoy the holidays together!

It’s time to begin again. It’s definitely worth the effort. Why bother? Because you are better than your challenges. Change is. Choose wisely.

Well…a secret to better sleep, anyway, there are others. Sleep hygiene is tricky. The modern world has a lot of distractions, and a single day sometimes seems too short to fit everything in it. Sleep difficulties can become sleep disorders over time, and there are many of those, each with their own characteristics and common causes.

Over a lifetime, I’ve experienced many sleep disturbances: nightmares, insomnia, sleep paralysis, night terrors, “exploding head” dreams, somnambulance, talking in my sleep, paradoxical insomnia, hypnagogia, apnea… That’s not an exhaustive list. I have a difficult relationship with sleep, and always have. These experiences aren’t limited to my adult lifetime, some have been characteristics of my sleep since early childhood. Some don’t trouble me anymore at all. Some linger as occasional occurrences. Here’s the thing, though, I mostly sleep pretty well, generally, these days. Yes, there’s actually “a trick to it”, one single small change that made a really big difference.

I’m not going to drown you in words making you wait for me to share this incredibly useful practical change that did so much to help me get better, healthier sleep. No subscription. No course to purchase. Also no promise offered nor guarantee being made, I just know this one detail has made all the difference (for me). I reset my expectations about sleep, and I stopped being stressed out and frustrated over not sleeping.

… That’s it.

Like a small town on along the highway, if you blinked you may have missed it. What was the change I made? No kidding, I changed my relationship with, and expectations of, sleep. That has been the thing that has done the most to improve my sleep. I still have occasional (sometimes frequent) sleep disturbances, but they rarely amount to a “disorder” these days, and they rarely last long or recur endlessly. See, it was the frustration, stress, and anxiety over not sleeping that resulted in the worst adverse effects of impaired sleep over time, not the impaired sleep itself. The emotional reaction to not sleeping restfully caused more problems than occasional failures to sleep ever could.

Seriously. It isn’t that noise keeping you awake, or the light, or the ticking of the clock, or that other person’s breathing. More often than not, it’s the stressed, frustrated, angry emotional response to not sleeping. The more vexed by our wakefulness we become, the worse our difficulty getting back to sleep. That’s been my experience, anyway. Take it for what it is; subjective experience, and a sample size of one.

I’m not saying changing one’s perspective on something as vexing as poor sleep is easy, or that it takes less practice than any other willful change. It takes practice, and commitment, and repetition, and I failed a lot and endured many annoying, sleepless, restless nights getting from “there, then” to here, now. It’s a huge improvement, though. The stress and frustration, anger, and despair over not sleeping was doing a lot more damage to my overall wellness and quality of life than my impaired sleep was, though. So…

Now, when I am wakeful, I turn on soft lighting unlikely to rouse me, and read awhile (taking care to choose reading material unlikely to cause excitement, itself), or get up briefly for a drink of water, and some meditation. Nightmares? I let myself wake in my familiar safe environment and soothe myself with a bit of meditation and return to sleep after my nightmares fade. I accept that I have some sleep challenges, and refrain from worsening those with aggressively anxious or frustrated rumination, obsessive blame-laying, or defeated self-talk. The acceptance itself is a useful tool. I’ve stopped trying to force my sleep pattern to comply with some notion of what sleep should look like, and I allow myself to sleep as suits me best. Does that “fix” my insomnia? No, but it doesn’t bother me when I wake during the night, or struggle to fall asleep. I just go with it. The result being that I am more likely to fall back to sleep fairly quickly – and on those occasions when I don’t, I’m not beginning my day in a negative emotional state on top of being tired.

I sit quietly at the trailhead, thinking my thoughts and grateful for the pretty good sleep I enjoyed last night. Did I sleep through the night? No. I rarely do, but I wasn’t awake long, and sleep returned relatively quickly. It took a long time for me to learn that the stress over poor sleep was doing more damage to my sleep than the poor sleep itself would do. It took even longer to really accept how true that was and do something useful with that information. Along the way, my sleep improved, quite a lot, because I also made a point to learn and practice good sleep hygiene, generally. All the many practices I practice intended to improve my emotional wellness and physical health have also helped improve my sleep.

I guess what I’m saying is that changing my response to poor sleep in the moment has done more to improve the quality of my sleep than any one other change.

I sit with that thought awhile. I’m happy to share it without monetary gain, and I hope you find it useful if you struggle with poor sleep. There are still verbs involved, and you’ll have to do the work of making a change on your own. I can’t really help with that. I hope you do though, and I hope you get the rest you need to be and become the person you most want to be. We’re all more pleasant and capable when we get the rest we need.

Another day, another chance to begin again.

Daybreak comes. It is a gray and wintry looking autumn morning. The oaks have lost most of their leaves. The surface of the marsh ponds is still and dark. The sky is a featureless wash of gray-blue. The path stretches ahead, disappearing around a bend. I breathe in the chilly autumn air; no scents of flowers now, only the autumn damp, and a hint of rain to come. I exhale, letting lingering background worries go with my exhalation, dissipating with the cloud of my breath. Lovely morning. A good morning to begin again.

Hate is contagious and corrosive. It can become lethal. Hate can influence the thinking of entire groups of people. Hate can make one individual do terrible things. Hate can drive people to murder.

… What does it mean when someone perceived as hateful, or who espouses hateful ideas, is themselves the victim of hate?…

I’m as human as anyone. There are ideas and people I find pretty horrible and hateful, myself. It’s most often not a personal sort of emotional experience, it’s more abstract than that. I’m not sure I’ve ever truly “hated” anyone in a direct and personal way. I have actively disliked people enough to avoid them. I have even loathed an individual to the point that I had nothing good to say about them, if asked. Hate, though? That seems a bigger deal, a deeper emotional investment that implies a commitment to infusing the awareness of the individual with persistent steady negative emotion – enough, perhaps, to be a weapon itself. I’d really have to care about someone, in some sense, in order to hate them, I think. What do I know, though? I avoid engaging in hate as an experience. There is reliably always too much I don’t know that could change my opinion.

Don’t shoot people because you’re angry. Don’t shoot people over ideology either. That kind of hateful shit is terrible for the perpetrator, in it’s own fashion, and it’s likely to have regrettable consequences. It’s terrible for the world. Violence is toxic and terrible and the “solutions” it provides aren’t the sort with real value. (Have you seen the images of Gaza and Ukraine since the most recent conflicts began in those places?) I don’t suppose, if you’re reading this blog, that you need that sort of cautionary reminder; you’re likely on a different path.

So… Charlie Kirk is dead, I hear. I can’t say his death moves me personally at all. He represented no good qualities or ideas to me. I did not know him personally, and was only aware of him in the most indirect way, as some favored conservative talking head notable enough to be mocked on South Park. (South Park is hilarious, and definitely knows how to tap the zeitgeist, and my opinion hasn’t changed.) I don’t have any personal feeling of loss over Charlie Kirk’s death. The hateful ideas of our conservative administration get people killed and wrecks lives every day…why would this one guy, famed for saying hateful things, getting shot be at all noteworthy?

I think killing people is wrong. It’s vile and wasteful and morally repugnant. Humanity could do better. That doesn’t change because someone I find unlikeable gets killed. It’s still wrong. I just don’t plan to spend more time thinking or talking about this particular death. Aren’t the innocent lives lost to school shootings, domestic violence, and police brutality more worthy of conversation? Isn’t genocide more important to address than the death of one voice espousing hate? And femicide? Infant mortality due to disease? I guess I’m just saying that this one particular shooting death carries no significance for me. It’s unfortunate people are still so primitive and barbaric that they seek to solve problems through violence. That’s the problem worth solving. We could definitely do better.

Don’t spread your hate around (or anyone else’s) – it’s not fucking jam.

I pull myself back to this gray moment, here, now.

I sigh to myself looking at the gray sky. Daybreak came on the trail and I am sitting with my thoughts before the work day begins. I’m tired and I slept badly. The alarm woke me, and I thought it was a mistake, at first. My eyes still feel gritty and dry. My head aches. I’m feeling cross with myself and with the world. I definitely need more rest than I got. I’m grateful the weekend is ahead and that the week has gone well… but… g’damn I’m just so fucking tired. I’ve got shit to do, and all I really want is to go back to sleep.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I yawn and rub my eyes. I don’t feel groggy – that’s something good. Too much to do to have to deal with grogginess or brain fog, too, and I’m grateful. Slowly I pull my focus back to the things that matter most (to me, right now) and let the rest go. I’m grateful that I remember telling my beloved Traveling Partner I’d run to the store before work, and glance at the clock. Already time to begin again…