All posts tagged: Insomnia


The Insomniac Club: For the few, the proud, the sleepy

It’s 2:00 a.m. and I’m still awake. I’m so tired that I can’t stop yawning, and with each yawn, tears form—yet, sleep won’t come. The digital alarm clock teases me, its glow saying, “If you fall asleep now you’ll get four hours of sleep.” I try again and after tossing and turning for 30 minutes I decide to read for a while. Unable to focus, I turn on the TV. I begin to fall asleep with the TV humming in the background, so I turn it off and seconds later my eyes spring open. I force them close again, but to no avail, I am awake again dealing with yawn-induced tears. I sigh in frustration, give up for what may be the rest of the night and turn on my laptop to see if any of my fellow insomniacs are up. Not surprisingly, they are. With more than 30% of Americans suffering from insomnia, finding others awake at 3:00 a.m. is not a challenge; the Insomniac Club is always open. The insomniac club’s motto is misery loves …


Co-dependence: An insomniac’s song

I don’t have very clear memories of my childhood. Most of them are so wrapped up in stories I’ve heard over and over again, that the line between the story and memory is completely blurred. The only exception to this is the memory of being awake at night, listening to the sound of the coquis. While not necessarily clear, the story of me, the coquis, and my lifelong companion, insomnia, are solely mine. But a child keeping guard on nights that are set to the sound of the coquis, is as tender as the story gets. The real story is one of Shakespearean proportions: Love, hate, and betrayal at its finest (or is that at its worst?). Believing that the constant companion brings out her best–“I don’t need sleep, without it I can do more than most”–as her mind runs circles around any other in those twilight hours; she is lulled into comfort, completely unaware that slowly it is wearing her down. She grows dependent. He is her comfort, her way of life. But occasionally …

Where a sleepless night can lead…

I couldn’t sleep Friday night. This is, of course, not a new thing for me. Sometimes I can manage a few hours, sometimes sleep doesn’t come at all. To those who sleep easily, I’m sure this will sound strange, but I prefer the not sleeping at all. I find that I am anxious to be out of bed and doing when I don’t sleep, while when I do sleep a few hours I just want to stay in bed and get back to that restful state. Not having slept, I got out of bed at around 7:30 a.m. made myself a cup of coffee and spent some time writing. The restlessness of a night of tossing and turning was still there, so I got dressed and went for a walk in the park and ended up by the boathouse, where the still-rising sun was reflecting off the lagoon. I decided to zig-zag through and as I was strolling through I ran into my ‘friend’ from the library. We chatted for a minute, again about language …

writers block

Writer’s Block: The battle for my mind

Like my dreams, forgotten once the sun rises, my mind writes paragraphs of beautiful prose that vanish as I attempt to put them on paper. For with its jealous nature my mind seeks sole possession of the depth of my thoughts. And just as I lay each morning fruitlessly trying to recall dreams as their memories fade; I sit paper in hand, willing my mind to release the words that flowed in beautiful harmony just moments before. The very same words that could free me from the torment of a million thoughts trying to lay claim to the forefront of my mind. So I demand control, prepare for battle, fully aware the struggle is futile and I am powerless against it. For with its flagrant power it distracts me with one thought and another screaming for attention from places unseen. And soon I am lost, paralyzed, resentful, conceding defeat.

3 a.m.

I have fallen for the middle of the night. Is it love, is it lust?  I’m unsure.  His hold on me is strong and I am unable to resist his dark, brooding and mysterious ways. The light of the moon casts a shadow upon us as we lie deep in thought, listening to the sound of the coquis as they sing in harmony. Together we plan for the future and make sense of the past.  He is my secret: both my sanity and my chaos. Sometimes sleep appears—a jealous lover ready to fight for me—but he has failed me and I have lost faith in him so I push him away and return to lie in the arms that give me comfort. Inevitably dawn sneaks up behind us so quietly, shining a bright light upon us as if to tell us “you’ve been caught” and I turn to my love for comfort and realize he is gone and I am once again alone.