It's a cruel truth of my existence that when I am absolutely stressed out and wiped out, I have the hardest time getting any sleep. I've been known, during these miserable bouts of insomnia, to yell at nobody in particular (a phenomenon my boyfriend finds particularly disturbing), to get up pace and get back in bed at least a half dozen times and to think of anything, everything and nothing in the attempt to distract myself into falling asleep. Eventually, either some external force takes pity on me and allows me to become unconscious, or I just wait in bed for the alarm to go off hoping that the mere fact I am horizontal is providing me with some form of rest. I'm not the sort who will take prescription medication or perform any weird rituals to get sleep. Friends and family have suggested warm milk, reading, tylenol PM, and other relatively benign home remedies for insomnia. Nothing seems to work, and in an utterly bizarre twist, Tylenol PM actually makes my heart race and keeps me awake even longer.
So for now, I count my blessings on the nights when sleep comes easily, and refuse to believe that you can't just catch up on the weekends by sleeping until 11 a.m. I'd like to tell you this post is actually going somewhere, but it's not really. I didn't sleep much last night. Coupled with having to take a 7 a.m. train out of the city this morning to be on time for an all-day work seminar (where I was not allowed to sleep, despite the fact that work-related seminars appear to be the one sleep remedy that works on me), my mind has turned to mush. With that, I bid you goodnight. I'm hoping for one myself.
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