A Sub-Personality?
Like a tiny and unintentional Jewish curse, my mother spoke these words casually and, in my memory, to somebody else:
“The women in our family don’t sleep well.”
Did this even happen? Memory alludes me. Would my mother ever really say this? She would never, of course, intentionally jinx me. Yet when I think of her relationship to sleep, I can vaguely remember her struggles.
“The women in our family don’t sleep well.”
I have had decades of experience, especially during these last years, of opportunity after opportunity, night after night, of living, outliving, and then falling victim again to this ominous prediction.
Confession: at this present moment, it is now 1:58 a.m., EST.
I’m a faller-right-asleep-er, quickly and mostly effortlessly. And then, come 1:00, 2:00, and onward, I very likely may pop awake. When I say awake, I mean, awake. Awake and ready for the day. Except it’s not daytime quite yet, not for many more hours.
This blog is not about any of the natural sleep supplements with which I am intimate, from ashwagandha to Zyflamend, with visitations to every letter of the alphabet in-between. Nor is it about lifestyle strategies, bedtime rituals, orange glasses I have worn to block out blue light (fondly called, in our family, Bug Eyes). It is not about a historical analysis of sleep in the pre-Industrial Revolution, when people fully accepted the concepts of a first and second sleep. None of those things. It is about how I practice abiding the freaked-out human in the “AWAKE FOREVER” cartoon above, and, night after night, how I practice loving her back into a resting and relaxing person, no matter the hour.
I practice this transformation perfectly imperfectly, some nights/mornings being better than others.
Here are some of the lessons I learned in the middle of the night and in the bowels of the morning, lessons that keep cycling back into my body and being:
- Relaxing counts
- Sleep isn’t everything it’s cracked up to be
- I have not yet died from lack of sleep
- Sometimes I function better with less sleep, since I’m less defended (this lesson is becoming harder to live into as I grow older)
- Worrying helps absolutely nothing at all on the planet
- Worrying changes absolutely nothing at all on the planet
- It’s okay to not want to breathe and “love myself” back into sleep
- I can be pissed and annoyed if I choose to be
- The morning will come
Pretty darn good lessons, right?
The bottom line: by making myself wrong, by making the awake-ness wrong, by trying to change it, the time becomes so much harder. Just like on the damn yoga mat, by relaxing into what is, everything softens and becomes possible. Resting and relaxing, breathing and praying are fine ways to pass a few awake hours. It surely beats worrying and freaking out. As I push against sleeplessness, creating friction with the moment, I am digging a deeper hole of suffering.
Have we heard this lesson before, like ten trillion times, in other arenas of life?
I’m here to bless my sleeplessness, as I am here to bless yours.
I’m here to honor my fear of being tired, and to you I extend that possibility.
I’m here to celebrate the Funky–Futuronsky-Women-Curse-of-Disordered-Sleeping.
I’m here to continue to practice allowing myself to be exactly where I am.
And from this place of self, may we continue to find the willingness to do the next, best thing, to lean toward a behavior, a strategy, and action that will bring balance. And when we are not willing, may we relax right there, with that, even with that.
Even and especially with that.
From 3:13 a.m., I say, goodnight.
May your evenings be filled with rest and sleep; may your dreams be of ease, love, and grace.
~~~
Dear Readers, I often think we should hold an insomniac webinar in these be-witching hours! Please send on your stories and strategies of sleep, sleep struggles and sleep victories. I would love to hear from you. You can find me at aruni@rnetworx.com.
All blessings!
Aruni