How to Sleep

Oh you are freaking kidding me right? Me, a 45 year old peri-menopausal woman with a overactive imagination, sleep? But sometimes I do, so I thought I would run though my super special sleep routine.

Go around the house at ten and yell at people to get off their phones and turn out the lights. Be reminded of what times everyone needs to be up in the morning and immediately forget.

Check that my alarm clock is set and the back up alarm clock is ready to party. Brush teeth, take a slash and take to my bed for a solid 8 hour sleep. Proper sleep, like that deep, deep that when you wake from you look like Emily Ratatowski.

Ok, so let’s take a step back. Do you remember the days when you would pull and all-nighter? It might be because you were cramming study, dancing on a podium at Kinsellas or staying up all night with a sickly baby. They generally happened when you had youth on your side, and your bounce back was not so dreadful.

I haven’t pulled an all-nighter for decades, but this year so far, I have managed to do it three times, AND IT IS ONLY FUCKING MARCH!

So let me run you through last nights evening slumber.

I went to bed at about 9.30pm to watch the new Amy Schumer’s Netflix special “Growing” which is very good and I can highly recommend it. Then at about 10.30pm, I turned off the light and went on my side.

And so began my marathon session of impersonating a rotisserie chicken. It was a humid night as I tossed and turned, trying to get into a magical position. Having slept the previously night in an interesting style, I had a little neck twinge which let me know that I was well and truly awake every time I shifted in my sweat. I was freezing, so I snuggled under the lightweight doona, before breaking out into a hot sweat of dizzying proportions. So I fling off the doona, and repeat this course of action eight thousand times.

By this stage, I suspected hours had passed but I dare not look at the clock as it might have fuelled my panic.

On the odd occasion that I did find the sleeping sweet spot, my mind was signalled to begin to go over everything I had ever experienced, every conversation I had ever had and every strange look I had every received from a stranger on the train.

“Hey brain!” I would silently tell it. “Pipe down you fuckwit. None of this is helpful!” and then I would instruct it to picture walking through a beautiful meadow. And just as I am about to nod off……

FOOT CRAMP FOOT CRAMP FOOT CRAMP!

Back to being 100% awake, and wondering whether those bloody magnesium tablets do anything at all.

Back to being a rotisserie chicken for a few more hours. And again, just as I was about to nod off ENTER THE HYPNIC JERK! What is a hypnic jerk? Why, I have explained it before for you here….

By this stage it is too late to pop a Restavit because you don’t have the luxury of spending the following day walking around in a fog. And then the birds started.

Fuck you body unable to regulate temperature and brain unable to stop thinking!

Mr. Woog got up at 5am to catch a flight while I stood in the kitchen weeping a little bit, complaining to him. He pats me on the head, leaves and I get back into bed only to fall into the most glorious, refreshing, deep sleep, much like I think Sleeping Beauty may have enjoyed.

For 45 minutes.

So that is how I am sleeping these days. My friend and I mainly talk about the weather, the ongoing surprises of parenting teenagers and how we are sleeping. I think they are all intertwined, to be honest.

How about you? What is your trick to a good nights shut eye.

I NEED TO KNOW!