Sleep

Sleep.  So elusive.  No one told me that when I reached the age of 51, sleep would become my most coveted achievement.  Something I took to be my natural right, a subconscious part of being alive was now gone and I could no longer slip away into the night. Previously, I had been a nine hour a night gal. I became desperate, so I started with pills.  Over the counter, then prescription from friends who had spares.  The problem was that I suffered hangovers from the drugs, which gave me rebound headaches.  Each type of medication would only last up to a week, then the cycle would repeat.

Until one day, my husband was diagnosed with a brain tumor.  My body went into a complete state of adrenaline.  I learned a whole new meaning of sleep deprivation.  I was exhausted each night, the liquid feeling that infused my limbs right before my mind went blank was still there but instead my brain would not shut off and the thoughts continued in a full stream of conscious chatter.

As a woman, who's natural tendency to worry, plan and review in constant silent scolding, went in to hyper drive in my heightened state.  I was desperate to save his life and my mind could not stop reviewing every possibility, missed opportunity or potential life saving procedure that might be discovered.  I stayed up nights on end researching, getting maybe a couple of hours of sleep. Then each day, I would have to get up and work, drive to doctors appointments then 24 hour adult care.  I was a zombie, on auto pilot, barely functioning.

Then, he died.  My need for sleep intensified.  I desperately needed blackout status.  The emotional pain was unbearable and I became like an addict, trying to score a hit.  I went to the doctor and got prescriptions for the hard stuff.  Valium, Ambien...nothing worked for very long.

I wondered how long a body can go without sleep.  I googled it.  The record was eleven days. I had the pre-symptoms.  I was clumsy, suffered lack of focus and had no short term memory.

Finally, after many months of suffering, I discovered my cure.  Hormones.  That magical word was a divine gift.  I went to a holistic doctor.  She tested my spit and blood levels.  I was all out of whack and I learned a valuable lesson, if a woman's hormones are out of balance, it can screw up everything.  Now, if I get seven hours, I'm happy.  I have hope and I still aspire to eight or nine hours a night.  For now, a girl can dream.