I don't have insomnia. I just don't sleep well.
I never have. I frustrated my mother when I was little because I didn't sleep enough for her! I remember being tired a lot when I was a teenager. Like, a lot. I couldn't eat enough or sleep enough. Actually, that's kind of how the last two weeks have been going for me too, only since I'm not growing anymore (I hope) I'm trying not to eat so much!
Last night this half of Ontario got hit with some serious snow. I shoveled the driveway for a half hour, and three hours later it looked like I'd done nothing. I called up Jethro at work and begged him to stay the night at the studio. It turns out they had a little sleepover at the studio. He and two other engineers raided the closets for pillows and blankets and each claimed a couch. They didn't open their eyes til 10:30 this morning. Jethro assures me that there's not a drop of alcohol at the studio and they were all just really tired from working. No drunken rock and roll pass out parties.
Anyways. I had to convince the Pug to abandon his watch at the front steps and come to bed. He sat on his mat beside my bed and stared up at me with his big mournful eyes. I considered the lack of a nice warm guy to place my cold feet on, and the lack of snoring, with my husband being gone. Normally when he stays at the studio all night it's accidental. He sort of closes his eyes while taking a little break on the couch at the back of the control room, and next thing he knows, his cell phone is ringing, and it's me making sure he accidentally fell asleep at the studio rather than in the car on the highway. Sometimes I glare at him knowingly before he leaves for work, knowingly because I damn well know after 20 years which sessions are going to take waaaay too long, and hand him a bag of clean clothes before he leaves. All winter he's been averaging two nights a week at the studio. So I'm used to this. It's nothing new.
But last night I gave in. I let the dog sleep on the bed, warming my feet and providing the snoring that either keeps me awake or lulls me to sleep.
At some point I dreamed that I was shopping for long johns and wooly socks and hoodies with Dallas Green. My dreams are weird like that. It makes sense though- he's quite the snappy dresser.
And if I'm ever in an elevator with him again in real life, this time I am going to talk to him. Yes I finally am.
It's no wonder I wake up tired every morning. It's either dreams of grocery shopping with Brad Pitt or drawing cartoons with Johnny Depp and who can get a good rest with all that fun????
It's not all fun, though.
There's just one thing wrong lately. I am actually surprised at how much it bothers me and how I haven't been able to shake it for the last two weeks.
I can't stop thinking about Heath Ledger.
His was an accidental death caused by mixing sleeping pills, painkillers and anti anxiety drugs. All legal and helpful things that a doctor prescribes.
I've had my share of anti- anxiety drugs, but I've never taken sleeping pills. I have considered it, but never felt I was sleepless enough to go to that extreme. I have chosen instead to stay in my bed, in the dark, and let my mind wander. I get up in the morning tired but big deal. That's just normal for me.
Some of us just can't shut off our brains at night. For some, the results shift from nuisance to tragedy.
I thank God for every drop of sleep. I'm serious. I had a few years where I couldn't sleep longer than a few hours at a time because my babies needed me. I never know what hour my husband will come home. I have two critters who sometimes wake me up. Every minute of sleep is precious.
So Jethro, who has had maybe two nights in his life that left him blinking in the dark, went out for a bite to eat this morning with the other guys, braving the snowy city streets. It's a bright morning full of the sounds of snow blowers and the scraping of snow plows. He slept solidly through four of my phone calls before waking up. He's back up and at it. He's just a phone call away from me. I know where he is.
And we get on with our day.