Archives for posts with tag: sleeping and waking

A noise woke me. It might have been a noise I made myself. It wasn’t loud, just some quiet but audible knock or clunk or bang, like something small had fallen to the floor. I got up and dressed after checking the time, and got the day started as quietly as I could.

“This is more like it,” I think as I walk a familiar trail in the darkness. It is 05:15. The scent of the air, the dark silhouettes of the trees against the cloudy sky illuminated by the suburban lights below, this is not San Francisco, nor any other notable urban place. This is home. This is Oregon wine country. The pace is slower here, and I’m grateful. Walking the city sidewalks before dawn in a big city may not even be safe, depending where I am. I feel safe here on this familiar trail. I never felt unsafe walking in San Francisco, but I also didn’t find any opportunity for peace, balance, or meditation on those walks, nor any solitude, really. There was always some traffic, and other people also walking (or standing, sitting, even sleeping in doorways).

….It feels good to be back. To be home.

My homecoming was delightful. There was a hot meal waiting for me. The house was quite tidy. The newest episode of South Park was available, and we watched it together as a family. The laundry (other than my own) was done, and only needs folding. The household felt peaceful and harmonious. In spite of travel fatigue, I stayed up a bit later than usual, enjoying my Traveling Partner’s company. He welcomed me with loving words and kisses, and a useful and beautiful box he made for me. While I was away, the Anxious Adventurer brought my art home from storage to be more safely stored at home. Working together, they even found suitable placement for the rolling cabinets that store many of my smaller pieces. I don’t think I’ve ever had such a fond and warm welcome after being away from home, in any relationship. I feel really cared for. I feel appreciated, understood, and respected.

I walked smiling, slowed down by a slight limp; my left foot is very sore for some reason, as if the bottom of my heal were bruised, and my spine is stiff with arthritis. I laugh when I think, momentarily, how this must “age me”, but I’ve had the arthritis since I was 26, and the messed up left foot and ankle since I was about 33, hardly a youngster, but certainly not “old”. (Barely “older”.) I’m smiling because I feel joyful and appreciated, and for now the pain is inconsequential. It doesn’t matter. I do get to my halfway point relieved to pause and sit awhile, grateful for the mild dry morning.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I slept well, and feel rested, although it was a short night. I generally retire much earlier, because my body (or mind) reliably wakes me very early (either long practiced habit, or sleep difficulties, it’s hard to be certain which, sometimes). The result of my “late night” is that I only got about five and a half hours of sleep last night. I’m grateful that it feels like enough, this morning. I sigh contentedly, at the recollection that I’ll be showering in my own shower this morning. I didn’t realize how much I am looking forward to that.

My paycheck hits my bank account a couple days early, a quirk of timing. The notification ping is my first communication with the world, this morning. In Trump’s fucked up terrible economy, it really makes a difference though, especially so close to Giftmas. I feel something I hope doesn’t become a feature of future holidays; relief. I wonder for a moment how often my parents may have faced Giftmas knowing three little girls eagerly awaited a visit from Santa Claus, dreading the knowledge they might have to choose between a little girl’s happiness and paying some bill? I didn’t understand then what goes into Giftmas magic. I do now, and my heart fills with gratitude and love and warm regards; they may not have been fantastic human beings, or great parents, but g’damn did they understand Giftmas.

I sit with my thoughts and my contentment and merriment. I’m grateful to see another Giftmas. I’m grateful for each chance to begin again.

I get to my feet to finish my walk in the stillness, as daybreak comes. It’s already time to begin again.

It was a long work day. It’s over. A few words exchanged with my partner, a hot shower, and an early bedtime; I set the alarm* a little later and crashed, hoping to perhaps sleep in.

I crashed hard, and slept deeply. I woke abruptly to loud laughter following a louder thump against a wall. Drunk on a Wednesday? The folks at the trade conference going on at this hotel are partying hard. I wake startled, heart pounding, disoriented. I get up for s few minutes, make a cup of coffee (decaf), and drink some water. It’s an unimportant moment, but I’m awake for a time.

I sit with my thoughts, feeling relaxed and… I don’t know, a little like “my engine is idling” and that I’m “in neutral”. I’m here, but inattentive to everything but the stillness of the moment. I definitely miss my beloved Traveling Partner, but I am also relishing the luxury of solitude and quiet… for the hours I get to enjoy that, which is more or less the same small portion of any typical work day. Like a lot of Americans, I work “too much”, in spite of being aware of the value of leisure, rest, and contemplation. The infamously exploitative American work culture demands a lot. I’m grateful to have a good job, though,, make no mistake. Swapping unreplaceable years of my finite mortal lifespan for cash is a shitty return on that investment of my time (could be worse), but I have adequately proven to myself that I am not likely to make a similarly good living painting full time. America may value “the grind”, but it does not value artists, regardless of the amount of work they put into their art.

Meh. I let that go and enjoy the quiet I’ve got, sip my coffee (decaf), and wait for sleepiness to catch up to me again.

I spend time meditating. I reflect on the day. I stretch, and do some yoga. I open the curtains of the darkened room, and look out the window onto the street below. No view, really, just a sidestreet and some dumpsters on the other side. I people watch awhile. I notice a new “floater” in my right eye. Annoyingly it seems inclined to sit smack in the center of my field of vision, bobbing about and drifting with my eye movements. I hope it goes away, or becomes so commonplace my brain begins to filter it out of my view. The clock ticks on.

I’m sleepy again. Perhaps I will dream of love? I smile contentedly feeling relaxed and unbothered. A good day. Tomorrow is soon enough to begin again.

*I failed to complete the process of setting an alarm somehow, or turned it off later. There would be no alarm in the morning. 😆

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.

I woke during the night, several times. I managed to get enough rest, I think, in spite of that. It took a bit longer than usual to fully wake up. Still… it’s a new day, and I’m awake now, and working through the interlude between the first and second coffees of my morning. Pretty routine stuff.

How about that election, eh? Nothing more really needs to be said about that, I think, at least not by me.

At one point, while I was up during the wee hours, I stood in the darkness at the door to the deck, standing in the chill of an autumn night, door open to the smell of forest and creek, listening to peeping frogs and insects, and a nearby owl. I gazed up at the stars for rather a while, before I returned to bed, and to sleep. It was quite a lovely moment, well-spent. It required nothing of me beyond my presence, and it was “enough”. I felt somehow nourished by the autumn-scented stillness, standing there in the dark.

Another time, I woke, and contentedly wandered the house. No purpose to my quiet footsteps, aside from enjoying being wrapped in this pleasant little dwelling, feeling safe and loved, there in the darkness.

Another time, I just woke up to pee was all, and having done so returned to sleep quite easily.

I didn’t give myself any grief over my wakefulness. There wasn’t any stress associated with it. I simply woke, now and then, for some minutes, and returned to sleep afterward. No harm. No injury. No particular inconvenience. I may not have mentioned it at all, if I hadn’t happened to take a look at my blog to answer a question about a date in the past, out of curiosity, and noticed I have not written in some days. lol Sleep (or lack thereof) seems the sort of thing I’d write about, as much as anything. So, I did. 😀

I look at the time. I notice, again, that my coffee is gone. Time to begin again, I think, and why not start with another cup of coffee?

I slept like crap last night. I woke shortly after 1:00 am, and never really went back to sleep in any restful way. I wasn’t “tossing and turning” or frustrated with my sleeplessness. It was just there, and the night was what it was. I was noise sensitive once I woke, so the industrial gear in my studio drying out the water damage from the leak we found some days ago seemed more than usually noisy. Not helpful. Mysterious creaks and miscellaneous “new house” sounds I still haven’t figured out added to the “din” (in the quiet of night). I was light sensitive, too; every time I turned over, my awareness of some small indicator light or power button would re-wake me, seeming infernally bright in the darkness. Add to that my dumb “wearable” fitness device; every movement caused the silly thing to light up to “detect” whether I was awake, catching my eye, and pushing me further from sleep, again.

It just wasn’t a great night for sleeping, for me, I guess. I shrugged it off first thing, after trying to grab another hour of sleep before starting the work day. It didn’t work out very well. You already know how those thing go, right? Best sleep of the night in that last hour, and then… the alarm. LOL It is what it is. I hope I sleep well tonight.

My Traveling Partner spotted my fatigue early on. He’s been supremely considerate and gentle with me, nudging me in the direction of this or that thing I find myself on the edge of losing track of, as the day proceeds. Still managing to stay on track with his own projects, too. I take a moment to drink some water, and feel the love and gratitude that fills my heart when I see him step past the door to the deck, while he works outside in the sunshine. He’s been putting in the hours and the effort to help make our home together here really special. I often find myself wondering what other small thing I can do to show him how much I appreciate all of it, or to lift him up when he’s having a down moment or a frustrating challenge. I catch myself thinking of him, and I smile so hard my face hurts. It’s a nice problem to have.

My partner calls me out onto the deck to see how the new skirting on the hot tub looks. Wow. Project well-finished, and very little left to do. I feel loved and cared for. Appreciated. Understood. He… “gets me”. I take some pictures. Say some pleasant words. I’m still so tired… my thoughts are disorganized. Time to call it a day… wait…

…My work day ended moments ago, and I still feel groggy and stupid. lol