Insomnias

My whole life I slept like a baby.

But two years ago, some events in my life put a permanent hole in my sleep.

I know people who sleep like me : pretty well for 4 hours then wake up in the middle of the night.

  • Some of them stay in bed and try to rest their body doing nothing.
  • Some of them can’t do that without becoming crazy, thus they go on the couch to read a book for a couple hours… before going back to bed in the morning.

And nowadays I can’t really sleep without pills. I sleep OK without them, but I’m ready to go for my day at 2 AM : not good. With this medicine, I do wake up but I feel so sleepy that I wake down.

I have to say that one should not have any charging phone near the bed. It’s better not to check anything in the night. OK : you can open a silly book if you had a nightmare. A need to turn off your brain…

I have a friend who is insomniac. It was so bad that he went to the hospital where they studied his sleep. The result was a gap between what he thought he slept and the real time he slept. Something like he was sure he slept twenty minutes in the whole night, but he slept six hours.

Light & ground sleep with plenty of holes is a possible definition of hell, I agree. It appeared it’s also a hell if you have the feeling you don’t sleep but you do.

My whole life I slept like a baby…

 

Thanks for reading!

 

“As soon as I turned off the light and tried to go to sleep it would begin to come into the room in waves building and building up until I would have to pant to get any air at all out of it until I would have to get up and feel my way like when I was a little boy hands can see touching in the mind shaping unseen door Door now nothing hands can see My nose could see gasoline, the vest on the table, the door. The corridor was still empty of all the feet in sad generations seeking water. yet the eyes unseeing clenched like teeth not disbelieving doubting even the absence of pain shin ankle knee the long invisible flowing of the stair-railing where a misstep in the darkness filled with sleeping”

W. Faulkner

 

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