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.
3 comments:
From one sleep-deprived mom to another, I say A-to-the-men, my friend.
I just realized that you and Dan worked on paint crew together. I did not know that. Much love to you, Joy
Four wonderful children who happen to be lousy sleepers. I can now sleep like a cirque du soleil contortionist.
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