Sleep deprivation. It’s that weird condition that a lot of people seem to suffer from these days. It’s a sort of limbo that you’re stuck in, a state of being where it seems like you’ve slept, but you haven’t actually. You go through every day, seemingly bright-eyed, but you’re not actually. You are seemingly wide awake, but some dark corner of your mind has shut down and refuses to reboot because you’re too much of a bitch to fall asleep and let your brain recharge for a blessed few hours.
Bothersome to say the very least of what it is.
But how does this condition arise? According to poets, especially the ones that write lyrics for film, this non-sleep that I am in probably indicates that I am in love with someone. No one, except a paramour, is capable of giving someone sleepless nights. Since that is not the case with this particular blogger, I need to find an explanation that is seemingly romantic and also practical.
Imagine when you think you’re tired after a long day and you turn the lights off in your room and close your eyes and hope that in a few minutes you will drift off. A few moments later, you’re staring at the ceiling, at a fan that seems to have decided to run at a ridiculously slow speed now that summer’s approaching, wondering why the hell you’re not drifting.
All too suddenly, you’re acutely aware of the pillows that your head is resting on and you know that you’re in a lot of pain and that your neck is stiff. As you shift trying to find a more comfortable angle to sleep in, you wonder if all those grandmother’s remedies are any good. So on one day, you try warm milk. Another day, you count sheep. On the third day, you give up completely and play those almost drone-making games on your phone hoping that the monotony of hitting the keys 2,4,6 and 8 while watching musical notes fall in line will magically make you sleep. On the fourth day, you just stare at the ceiling indefinitely, close your eyes and pretend sleep. On the fifth day, you’re bitching to everyone and your so-called flirty texts are reading like lectures. On day six, you hope that you can inhale mentholated balms and sleep. On day seven, you’ve become so used to not sleeping that you fight to stay awake.
At this stage in the insomnia process, you’re too sleep deprived. You’re thinking of probably finding a behind-the-cupboard friend to indulge in some behind-the-cupboard-ness just so you’ll enhaust yourself and get a few hours of sleep. Somehow that behind-the-cupboard friend is no longer an appealing option to you.
You’re considering medication, but you don’t want to depend on drugs. You’re trying to adapt a more holistic mentality, in the hope that a more open-minded you will be receptive to grandmother’s remedies.
Nothing seems to be working at all.
This is the point you realize that perhaps, stressing about your insomnia is probably making you sleepless and hence, you need to stop thinking about insomnia as a problem and embrace it, maybe when you start dreaming about not sleeping, you’ll know that you are, finally, asleep.