I don’t sleep much.
This is not by choice. I just don’t seem to get tired. I’m as awake and alert at 2AM as I was 19 hours prior when my day began. Not fun.
Don’t worry, I’m not going to tell you that I’m one of those magic people who doesn’t need sleep. I’m not a super hero. Besides, I think Sleepless Girl would look more like this:
This girl is not a hero. Hugs not drugs, kids.
Sleep and I have a complicated history.
As a kid, I remember lying awake for hours after bedtime. I once asked my parents if they’d mind if I sang while I tried to fall asleep (perhaps I thought this would help? They said I could). My mother recalls me telling her that I couldn’t “turn my mind off.”
In college, I began having frequent episodes of sleep paralysis (yes, that’s a link to WebMD; no, it’s not linked to an article about cancer). This made sleeping a mild terror. My dreams could not be trusted.
Lately, left to my own internal rhythms, I’m nocturnal. Opposums are my spirit animal.
I’ve tried many things … though, admittedly, not long enough to constitute a scientific study.
I’ve tried herbal tea and a book to unwind. After reading a study, I tried abstaining from using the computer or my phone for an hour before bed. I’ve halfheartedly tried avoiding caffeine after lunchtime (though I love coffee a little too much). I’m hesitant with sleep-related medications, but even Benadryl, my old go-to for allergies, has a lessened drowsiness impact as of late. As I write this, a commercial for Sleep Number beds is playing on the TV. Maybe they have the cure.
You’d think all the non-sleep would wear me out. Perhaps it eventually will.