I have always excelled at sleeping. If there was a gold medal, a blue ribbon, or a trophy for snoozing, I would have it. I would have to have a separate room just for my awards; I have always done it so well.
But I have been so tired this past year or so, all I have wanted to do is sleep. I have to force myself to get up in the morning, yawn all day, and daydream about taking a nap as soon as I get home from work. Frequently during the day I can be heard exclaiming “I’m dying here.”
On the weekend it’s not unusual for me to simply not wake up till noon or later. And then – 2 or 3 hours later – curling up on the couch for a nap. Except my naps are like a nights’ sleep for some people. 3 hour naps would be considered the norm for me.
I have always marveled at people who just wake up in the morning – early in the morning, which means any time before 10:00. And not only wake up, actually get up and out of bed. If I wake up early it’s only to trudge to the bathroom or clumsily turn over – and then I’m back to sleep again before you know it.
My doctor suggested that maybe with all this sleeping and never feeling rested, I am not sleeping well. My reaction was “What??? I sleep like a champ!” It never ever in a million years would have occurred to me that I am not actually getting good sleep. Heck, I thought ALL sleep was good sleep!
So when he suggested I try taking something to help me sleep, a test, to see if it would be a different kind of sleep, I balked. “I don’t need anything to sleep, wanna see? I’ll lay down right here on this narrow paper-covered exam table and show you! Just give me 10 minutes.”
I ended up agreeing to his little experiment, more out of desperation than anything else. I am so tired of being tired.
I have been taking mama’s little helper for a week now. Getting to bed at approximately the same time every night, and getting up at my usual time in the morning. I haven’t taken any naps, although there have been days that by 8:00pm I am just waiting for it to be 10:00 o’clock so I can take a quick shower, get my stuff ready for morning, and climb into bed.
This morning, Sunday, I woke up at an ungodly hour. I laid there for a while, looking at the cats that were surrounding me sensing that I was awake and would soon be the bearer of food. I looked at the clock, closed my eyes again, somewhat confused. Confused, because I was awake. I probably could have gone back to sleep if I tried, but I didn’t feel like I needed to try.
I don’t really have an addictive personality, unless you count cigarettes which I did finally quit, and carbs which I haven’t. But I have had diet pills – nah – tossed them in a drawer. Anti-anxiety meds – quit taking them when I felt I didn’t need them anymore. So I am not worried about taking this medication for too long or in a way that isn’t good for me.
It’s only been a week. I don’t want to get too excited. I can’t jump to any conclusions or give my doctor any credit (especially since he’s such a smart-ass) when the experiment is only 7 days old.
But this morning? This morning I woke up all on my own, without an alarm or a cat touching my face with her paw. I didn’t wake up because I had to pee or to turn over. And this morning, I got out of bed at 8:30 am. And not because I had to.
For a lot of people that’s normal. For me? Momentous!