After thirty-eight years of Life as an Insomniac, I discovered something wonderful last winter:
I sleep well when I’m cold. COLD as in it’s FREEZING outside and I sleep next to a big window. That kind of cold. My nearly lifelong insomnia was obliterated in the beauty of one real winter after a life lived in much warmer climates.
I suffered through its return with the spring and summers months, longing for autumn and the cooling temperatures for the first time in my living memory. And then…winter arrived again!
Sleep. I crave it. Sleep aids (of the over the counter variety) impart unto me restless leg syndrome and send me wandering—drugged and clumsy—around my house in the middle of the night. Natural remedies have done nothing but serve to relax me, that is all. But cold weather?
Not this winter. Not much at all. Not enough to break the insomnia cycle.
Waking up at 2:30 and staying that way for 19+ hours was not fun.
This morning, I awakened shortly after 1:05 a.m. Could not get back to sleep. I read an old familiar story on my Kindle, book-light not flaring on my retinas, and tried desperately to find La La Land, but to no avail.
More than three hours later and my day has started in earnest.
Where is the winter that brings somnolence? I can only wait, passively, for its return.