While there is no cause I can pinpoint, I had a night of interrupted by stupid insomnia again.
Doctors have been unhelpful in the extreme. They tell me it is “aging”. Drink some tea. Meditate. All quite useless.
It’s not as bad as it was prior to the discovery that I am indeed suffering from “female issues” of an aging lady variety, but sleeplessness is not an option for someone who has to be up before the dawn to put a kid on a school bus and pack a husband off to work.
Making breakfast, packing lunches and making sure that the bus does indeed arrive to convey the child has me up and conscious just long enough to make it difficult to impossible to go back to bed for a couple more hours.
This leaves me with days like today. Walking not quite dead. Feeling as though I am just coming down with or just getting over a messy bout with influenza.
Insomnia is nothing new for me. I have never been a good sleeper.
As a wee one, I gave up naps quite early, was a night owl and an early riser and generally seemed able to run on six or seven hours of shut eye without much trouble. No lounging in bed til noon as a general rule for me as a teen or young adult. And though I developed a bit of a napping habit in my early 30’s, it wasn’t a consistent one but more about the weather, which meant that on wintry or raining Sunday afternoons, you might catch me napping but otherwise – not.
Pregnancy and early motherhood were bad for sleep, but that’s true for a lot of women.
I didn’t sleep well the first year of widowhood either, but I blame that more on physical issues than emotional ones.
Now, it’s just a piss poor schedule combined with that old lady thing and the fact that we have really inconsiderate neighbors.
Age has screwed with my internal temperature regulation.
It’s too hot. Or it’s too cold. More cold than warm during the day and the opposite over night.
Who knew you could get cold flashes?
Our neighbors are a railroad siding, a guy who finds it necessary to start his truck even morning at 6 AM and leave it idle for 15 minutes – right underneath our bedroom window, and an elderly woman across the alley who, rather than listen to her equally elderly dogs shuffle and bark at her all night, puts them outside so her neighbors can listen to them shuffle and bark all night.
Once I am awake, I am awake for a solid hour or more.
In the past, I have panicked about not getting back to sleep and this just made it take longer to get back to sleep.
Now I am more sanguine. Not happy however. I know what a loss of two hours in the middle of the night means for the next day.
It means I accomplish next to nothing and I get to feel like shit in the bargain.
Oh, I have my folk remedies. Although tea makes me pee and melatonin has to be used in moderation lest one feel just as groggy and wiped out as the insomnia leaves one.
I have a heating pad for cold flashes and muscle aches (another thing those books on “aging” don’t mention but should) and ice packs for overheating.
Mattress is newer and foam-topped. Sheets are a primo thread count.
But still, I endure days like this several times a month.
When my mother, and then Rob’s mother, were visiting recently, I noted that neither of them could sleep through the night. Mom is 80 and MIL is 71. A glimpse of my future that is bleaker than the creakiness, the sagging skin and the humpbacks.
I don’t recall my Dad having such a time sleeping, but since he went to bed by 7PM and was up by 5AM most days from about age 65 on, I don’t know that I can glean much from his example.
So much about getting older in this year I make my slow approach to 50 is depressing.
It’s not that I expect the true middle of middle age to be the new 40 or 30 or some such other nonsense, but does it have to be such a chore all the time?