For a (horrible) while in college, I worked on paint crew from 6am-7:30am before my first class. I was trying to squeeze in extra hours, I guess so I could have more fun money. This sounds like supreme foolishness to me now.
If I was lucky, I’d get to bed around midnight and “only” get 6 hours of sleep. It really wasn’t enough, as my falling asleep in my first class attested to. But I could always take a nap whenever I felt like it.
Now, getting 6 hours of straight sleep sounds like an amazing indulgent luxurious blissful wonderful beyond-all-expectations gift.
Isaac hasn’t been sleeping well lately. For about the last 3 years and 4 ½ months.
Well, not really. He actually slept fine for the 1st 2 years of his life, but then things went downhill.
We’re working on it. Trying things. Giving up and doing what’s easiest, which still doesn’t mean good sleep. Then trying things again.
Part of me says this is a small, insignificant challenge in the broader scheme of life. Part of me says that this is a travesty and that sleep-deprivation is torturous.
Sleep is one of those things, like health, that you don’t even think about when you have it. But when it’s gone, it becomes the number one, can’t be ignored, problem of supreme importance. Our bodies are strong until they are frail, and then we realize how vulnerable we are.
When I went away last weekend, I slept for 7 hours straight that night. I woke up in the same position I fell asleep in and checked my phone. Yup, 7 hours. I had that crusty stuff on my eyes because I didn’t open my eyes for 7 hours. I forgot about that crusty stuff. You don’t get that crusty stuff when your eyes are open off and on all night long.
I empathize with all parents of small children out there who aren’t sleeping well, with the insomniacs, with those working 3rd shift, with anyone sleep-deprived anywhere. May we all sleep again someday.