I did not sleep well last night, up at 3 am. Having warm milk did not help this time. Doing progressive muscle relaxation exercises also did not help. I moved to the livingroom so as not to disturb my husband and the cat thought that it was time for breakfast. She cried by my head. Then I had to work today at 7 am. I made it, though.
To help me stay awake at work:
I prayed.
I phoned a friend to pray for me.
I did quigong exercises in the handicap bathroom stall at coffee.
I went outside at noon for some fresh air.
After work, I raced by the kids saying, I have to get some sleep. I listened to a relaxation tape of acoustic guitar and ocean surf. It did relax me but I did not fall asleep. I phoned by husband to pick up some Kentucky Fried Chicken while I, okay I admit it, went on the computer, alternated with lying on the couch. Now, I've skipped the Wednesday Bible Class.
Sometimes, you just gotta do...
6 comments:
I stayed up too late the other day, and the next morning I couldn't write to save my life. Then I was a zombie all day at work. But my sleep deprivation was selfimposed. Not caused by any physical ailment or insomnia. I infer that yours was physical.
It has happened this bad before, on another 7 a.m. shift.
Last night was recuperative.My body tingles in appreciation.
Good to get some rest. :-)
When you got time and e, you might enjoy http://bookcrossing.com/mybookshelf/ for likeminded souls.
Insomnia is a pretty regular bedfellow in our home. I have a method I've perfected over the years, and the only time it doesn't work is when I am reluctant to stop my mind from spinning. Yours sounds more physiological, though, so I don't know if it would work for you.
I lay in a very comfortable position and count to ten. That's it. If it sounds familiar, it's because there is a Zen meditation it is based on; I suspect it is partially hypnotic, as well. The trick is to be conscious of your breathing and to focus on the numbers. I take one count for each breath out; I even visualize the number. If your mind starts wandering and worrying, gently bring it back to the numbers. If you lose count, start over, one through ten, then one through ten again, and again... The trick is to learn that quality of thought that lies on the cusp of sleep and let it flow. It is like a boat in that way; it ushers you across into dreams. When you recognize the random thought patterns and let them take you, you've made it. I can now get myself to sleep in under a minute once I bring my thoughts into focus.
There are times this doesn't work, and I've discovered a backup plan. Again, it is based in meditation. With this, you get relaxed and focus very intensely and thoroughly on each body part/section in succession, head to toes. For example, you'd focus hard on your forehead, and once you'd fully felt that, you'd move on to your nose, then your cheeks, your lips, your chin, the back of your head, the back of your neck, your shoulders... The catch is to rotate through your body as quickly as possible. I was surprised when it worked for me; it seemed too intense, but maybe it worked well because it didn't go directly against the anxiety I was feeling at the time.
Light-duty relaxation: I have a "room" in my head for some meditations. It started out plain, with four walls, windows looking out over the ocean, and a bed. It has quite literally grown over the years. Now it is an odd, rambling shape, open on one side and supported by columns. At one end is a small waterfall, and the water spreads across the partially tiled floor in shallow, colorful pools. The ceiling is one big, blue skylight crisscrossed by thick, wooden beams and spangled with little lights. The windows have taken over an entire half of the room, and plants and vines cover everything so that it is almost unrecognizable as a room. There are little birds, animals, and insects hiding everywhere. In the center, suspended on chains from the wooden beams, is a nest of sorts. It is full of blankets, pillows, and soft, furry things. Each time I go there, I find something new. The latest was a hot mineral pool tucked away in a hidden nook. Wishful thinking, I'd say, but it was almost as good as the real thing.
Thanks Pearl. I just quickly had a look at the bookshelf site. I am curious and will look at closer.
Moira,
I'll say it again, you are a sweetheart. Thanks for the advice.
Sounds familiar. I've had those nights and days. "What doesn't kill us..."
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