I'm coming down with a cold. I started the day feeling fine, but this one came on fast. And it's already feeling like it's going to be a nasty one. Hopefully, it's not the deadly one.
OK, maybe that's a bit melodramatic. But I get that way when I'm sick.
Most of the time I'm fairly well adapted to being single. Not that it's always great and not that I always like it, but I'm used to it. But there are times when I realize that as social creatures, people just aren't built to be alone. Sometimes we need someone to look after us, pamper us. Protect us. Reassure us. Reassure me that I will get better, served up on a silver try with a glass of juice to wash it down and a side of cold medication to clear the head. Oh, and tissues -- lots of them.
Showing posts with label sleeping alone. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sleeping alone. Show all posts
Friday, November 16, 2007
Friday, May 11, 2007
I've got to get turned on to turn off
I've tried all sorts of things over the years to trick my mind into turning off so I can sleep, with varying degrees of success.
I'm not sure if I'm a classic insomniac or not, because most nights that I "can't sleep" I'm really not even trying. Instead I watch bad late night TV, goof around on the computer, get wrapped up into some little project, pick that time to do household chores.
Rarely do I lay in the dark staring off toward the ceiling begging for sleep. However, I did do that a lot as a child. Until the age when my mom no longer set a bedtime for me, it was not uncommon that I would lay in bed, daydreaming some elaborate scenario about the adventures I would have as an adult.
The only times the insomnia really causes problem are few. There are periodically days that the alarm clock is not enough to roust me from the sleep that has finally come sometime in the pre-dawn (or occasionally post-dawn) hours. The only other times it has been real noticeable is when I have been sharing my bed with someone else.
A few years back when I was working a late shift, my ex would either be getting ready for bed or would already be asleep on the couch with the TV on. After getting her to bed, she would usually demand that I lay next to her until she fell back asleep, which usually took all of 30 seconds. It used to fascinate me that a person could fall asleep so quickly, easily and regularly. It seemed magical to me. As soon as the clock would strike 11 p.m. she would undergo a transformation. We could be in the middle of a conversation and suddenly I would realize that she wasn't talking anymore. Even if her eyes weren't closed she would be in a near catatonic state. If you didn't get her to bed and horizontal soon, she would fall over wherever she was sitting.
Often as she slept I would lay there next to her and watch her sleep as if I looked close enough and hard enough I could discover her secret for effortless sleep. To make matters worse, she was a morning person, up early, going through an elaborate routine, parading in and out the patio door, just inches from my side of the bed. Fortunately, most mornings if I'm awakened by some sound, like a sliding patio door, a ringing phone or an alarm clock, all I have to do is plop back into bed or roll over and I'm out again almost instantly (if only I could do that at the beginning of the night, rather than the morning).
No, instead I work myself into a state of complete mental and physical exhaustion most nights before I can turn off the light and crawl into bed. I have a love-hate relationship with my bed. I hate crawling into it but I love being in it once I'm asleep and hate to leave it.
One thing that I have tried recently that has worked is listening to mellow music or some certain podcasts on my iPod at night. If and when the day ever comes again when I do share my bed with someone again, I don't know if that will go over too well. Some people seem to like quiet when they sleep. Quiet doesn't work for me, very well, because if it's quiet then every little sound is an interruption. Cars, sirens, neighbors talking, walking, flushing the toilet. Every little sound scratches on frazzled and frayed nerves. I need a low hum of some type to drown out the little noises outside my room, until I reach a deep sleep anyway. After that, a freight train could roar past my window and I wouldn't care.
I guess it's time to put on a podcast, or maybe some Diana Krall or Nora Jones. My favorite podcasts to dream to haven't had any new episodes in a while.
I'm not sure if I'm a classic insomniac or not, because most nights that I "can't sleep" I'm really not even trying. Instead I watch bad late night TV, goof around on the computer, get wrapped up into some little project, pick that time to do household chores.
Rarely do I lay in the dark staring off toward the ceiling begging for sleep. However, I did do that a lot as a child. Until the age when my mom no longer set a bedtime for me, it was not uncommon that I would lay in bed, daydreaming some elaborate scenario about the adventures I would have as an adult.
The only times the insomnia really causes problem are few. There are periodically days that the alarm clock is not enough to roust me from the sleep that has finally come sometime in the pre-dawn (or occasionally post-dawn) hours. The only other times it has been real noticeable is when I have been sharing my bed with someone else.
A few years back when I was working a late shift, my ex would either be getting ready for bed or would already be asleep on the couch with the TV on. After getting her to bed, she would usually demand that I lay next to her until she fell back asleep, which usually took all of 30 seconds. It used to fascinate me that a person could fall asleep so quickly, easily and regularly. It seemed magical to me. As soon as the clock would strike 11 p.m. she would undergo a transformation. We could be in the middle of a conversation and suddenly I would realize that she wasn't talking anymore. Even if her eyes weren't closed she would be in a near catatonic state. If you didn't get her to bed and horizontal soon, she would fall over wherever she was sitting.
Often as she slept I would lay there next to her and watch her sleep as if I looked close enough and hard enough I could discover her secret for effortless sleep. To make matters worse, she was a morning person, up early, going through an elaborate routine, parading in and out the patio door, just inches from my side of the bed. Fortunately, most mornings if I'm awakened by some sound, like a sliding patio door, a ringing phone or an alarm clock, all I have to do is plop back into bed or roll over and I'm out again almost instantly (if only I could do that at the beginning of the night, rather than the morning).
No, instead I work myself into a state of complete mental and physical exhaustion most nights before I can turn off the light and crawl into bed. I have a love-hate relationship with my bed. I hate crawling into it but I love being in it once I'm asleep and hate to leave it.
One thing that I have tried recently that has worked is listening to mellow music or some certain podcasts on my iPod at night. If and when the day ever comes again when I do share my bed with someone again, I don't know if that will go over too well. Some people seem to like quiet when they sleep. Quiet doesn't work for me, very well, because if it's quiet then every little sound is an interruption. Cars, sirens, neighbors talking, walking, flushing the toilet. Every little sound scratches on frazzled and frayed nerves. I need a low hum of some type to drown out the little noises outside my room, until I reach a deep sleep anyway. After that, a freight train could roar past my window and I wouldn't care.
I guess it's time to put on a podcast, or maybe some Diana Krall or Nora Jones. My favorite podcasts to dream to haven't had any new episodes in a while.
Wednesday, February 07, 2007
Good dream leaves a bad feeling
I've felt a bit off all day. The day got off to a weird start.
I've always had a hell of a time falling asleep. As a kid, I would go to bed and spend hours playing out elaborate scenarios in my head.
Going to sleep has never been easy. But once I'm asleep, I sleep the sleep of the dead. On weekends if I want to get up before, oh, say noon, I have to set an alarm, no matter what time I go to bed. On weekdays I set three alarms every morning, and still have to be careful I don't hit the snooze button so long that I don't make it to work until lunch. If there is ever a fire in the early morning hours I'm ash.
But this morning I woke up a couple hours before my first alarm was set to ring. I was in the throws of a dream. A sex dream.
The odd thing is that rather than it being arousing, it was disconcerting. I don't know what it was about the dream that put me off, but I was freaked out, not turned on.
Wasn't I supposed to be turned on? And why wasn't I? It is a feeling that left me empty and out of sorts. That's a feeling I haven't been able to shake all day. It's sort of like the feeling waking up after a bad one-night stand and realizing what, and who, you just did.
Now, it's time for bed again and I'm tired and still out of sorts.
Maybe all will look, and feel, better in the morning.
I've always had a hell of a time falling asleep. As a kid, I would go to bed and spend hours playing out elaborate scenarios in my head.
Going to sleep has never been easy. But once I'm asleep, I sleep the sleep of the dead. On weekends if I want to get up before, oh, say noon, I have to set an alarm, no matter what time I go to bed. On weekdays I set three alarms every morning, and still have to be careful I don't hit the snooze button so long that I don't make it to work until lunch. If there is ever a fire in the early morning hours I'm ash.
But this morning I woke up a couple hours before my first alarm was set to ring. I was in the throws of a dream. A sex dream.
The odd thing is that rather than it being arousing, it was disconcerting. I don't know what it was about the dream that put me off, but I was freaked out, not turned on.
Wasn't I supposed to be turned on? And why wasn't I? It is a feeling that left me empty and out of sorts. That's a feeling I haven't been able to shake all day. It's sort of like the feeling waking up after a bad one-night stand and realizing what, and who, you just did.
Now, it's time for bed again and I'm tired and still out of sorts.
Maybe all will look, and feel, better in the morning.
Monday, June 05, 2006
Monsters in the dark
In years past I would often have trouble falling a sleep at night because I couldn't shut my mind off. The minute I would go to bed I'd start thinking about all the things I needed to do the next day. And if I was stressed out about work, it was worse. Those are the times when I noticed the sleeplessness patterns the most.
But now it's different. For some reason I just dread going to bed. It's not like I hate my room, or my mattress or my bedding. I just hate going to bed.
I think the thing is that I hate going to bed alone.
You'd think I would be used to it by now. It's been two apartments, two different mattresses and two years since I've shared a bed with anyone. The funny thing is I've been sleeping alone again now for longer than my last relationship itself lasted.
I think I've put all the other baggage of that particular failed relationship behind me. The grieving for the person and the relationship itself has run its course. But I miss having someone to snuggle up with at night. Even on nights I had trouble falling asleep I would just lie there and listen to the person beside me breathing. Watching her sleep and listening to her breathing, slow was soothing, felt warm. Relaxing. In spite of myself, at some point, I would fall asleep.
We think of sex as intimacy, but it's always struck me as much more intimate, more a sign of trust, to be able to sleep -- literally sleep with someone. To expose ourselves at our most vulnerable to another. When we are asleep. To let someone see us at our gape-mouthed, snoring, drooling, hair-tousled, talking-in-our-sleep most vulnerable is a sign of trust.
I miss that. I miss having someone to snuggle up with. I miss having that special someone to wrap my arms around to make them feel protected with the truth is they are keeping my heart safe and warm. Even at those times where you want a little space like those nights it's too warm and skin on skin contacts is just to hot and uncomfortable to sleep. It's still reassuring to know someone is there, a few inches away, an easy reach when things turn too chilly or too dark. Sometimes we all need someone to chase away the monsters. The really scary monsters only come out at night, when the world is quiet.
It's pretty comical in retrospect. I used to dread sharing a bed with someone. Does she hog the covers? Do I? Will my snoring keep her awake? But mostly I like having room to spread out.
I remember one girlfriend years ago used to be a real snuggler and it drove me nuts. I needed a little space in order to sleep. Room to stretch and roll and toss and turn. I had been used to sprawling out all over the bed in my single days. But with her, there was no chance of that.
She had one of those old-fashioned waterbeds, with the padded siderails that surrounded a sloshing, bad of water that sent tidal wives across the mattress every time someone moved. It was a big bed, and we'd start out on our respective sides of the bed, but throughout the night she kept up the invasion of my territory and I would execute a tactical retreat. By morning I would end up sleeping half on the siderail and half down in the gap between the rail and the so-called mattress. Another person, or two, could have fit on the open mattress on the other side of that fucking, miserable bed.
Back then, I used to dread it when my girlfriend would tell me it was time to go to bed. What? Were we attached at the hip? Did we have to go to bed at the exact same time every night? The truth of the matter was I wanted some alone time. I wanted out of the relationship actually, I just hadn't worked up the nerve to tell her yet, or maybe even to admit it to myself.
And there were times in my last relationship I must admit I resented the whole going to bed at the same time thing. I was a night person and my ex was not. She could fall asleep literally as soon as her head hit the pillow. I used to think that was just an expression, but apparently some people have that gift. And I did see it as a gift. I was often jealous of her ability to just turn everything off and fall sound asleep so quickly. I've never been able to do that, not even as a child. Not unless I drive myself to the very brink of exhaustion. Anyway, I'd lay with her for a while and she'd fall asleep sometimes in the middle of a conversation. I'd watch TV, or watch her sleep, or both, resisting the urge to get back up and do something. Somehow my breathing would synchronize with hers. I would relax. And then, somewhere in the quiet, I'd fall asleep.
Maybe I can just get one of those baby monitors and find a woman who lives in range who will let me listen to her sleep. They even make the things with little cameras now, so I could even watch her sleep.
Or would that be just be a little too creepy?
Technorati tags: Insomnia
Sleeping alone
But now it's different. For some reason I just dread going to bed. It's not like I hate my room, or my mattress or my bedding. I just hate going to bed.
I think the thing is that I hate going to bed alone.
You'd think I would be used to it by now. It's been two apartments, two different mattresses and two years since I've shared a bed with anyone. The funny thing is I've been sleeping alone again now for longer than my last relationship itself lasted.
I think I've put all the other baggage of that particular failed relationship behind me. The grieving for the person and the relationship itself has run its course. But I miss having someone to snuggle up with at night. Even on nights I had trouble falling asleep I would just lie there and listen to the person beside me breathing. Watching her sleep and listening to her breathing, slow was soothing, felt warm. Relaxing. In spite of myself, at some point, I would fall asleep.
We think of sex as intimacy, but it's always struck me as much more intimate, more a sign of trust, to be able to sleep -- literally sleep with someone. To expose ourselves at our most vulnerable to another. When we are asleep. To let someone see us at our gape-mouthed, snoring, drooling, hair-tousled, talking-in-our-sleep most vulnerable is a sign of trust.
I miss that. I miss having someone to snuggle up with. I miss having that special someone to wrap my arms around to make them feel protected with the truth is they are keeping my heart safe and warm. Even at those times where you want a little space like those nights it's too warm and skin on skin contacts is just to hot and uncomfortable to sleep. It's still reassuring to know someone is there, a few inches away, an easy reach when things turn too chilly or too dark. Sometimes we all need someone to chase away the monsters. The really scary monsters only come out at night, when the world is quiet.
It's pretty comical in retrospect. I used to dread sharing a bed with someone. Does she hog the covers? Do I? Will my snoring keep her awake? But mostly I like having room to spread out.
I remember one girlfriend years ago used to be a real snuggler and it drove me nuts. I needed a little space in order to sleep. Room to stretch and roll and toss and turn. I had been used to sprawling out all over the bed in my single days. But with her, there was no chance of that.
She had one of those old-fashioned waterbeds, with the padded siderails that surrounded a sloshing, bad of water that sent tidal wives across the mattress every time someone moved. It was a big bed, and we'd start out on our respective sides of the bed, but throughout the night she kept up the invasion of my territory and I would execute a tactical retreat. By morning I would end up sleeping half on the siderail and half down in the gap between the rail and the so-called mattress. Another person, or two, could have fit on the open mattress on the other side of that fucking, miserable bed.
Back then, I used to dread it when my girlfriend would tell me it was time to go to bed. What? Were we attached at the hip? Did we have to go to bed at the exact same time every night? The truth of the matter was I wanted some alone time. I wanted out of the relationship actually, I just hadn't worked up the nerve to tell her yet, or maybe even to admit it to myself.
And there were times in my last relationship I must admit I resented the whole going to bed at the same time thing. I was a night person and my ex was not. She could fall asleep literally as soon as her head hit the pillow. I used to think that was just an expression, but apparently some people have that gift. And I did see it as a gift. I was often jealous of her ability to just turn everything off and fall sound asleep so quickly. I've never been able to do that, not even as a child. Not unless I drive myself to the very brink of exhaustion. Anyway, I'd lay with her for a while and she'd fall asleep sometimes in the middle of a conversation. I'd watch TV, or watch her sleep, or both, resisting the urge to get back up and do something. Somehow my breathing would synchronize with hers. I would relax. And then, somewhere in the quiet, I'd fall asleep.
Maybe I can just get one of those baby monitors and find a woman who lives in range who will let me listen to her sleep. They even make the things with little cameras now, so I could even watch her sleep.
Or would that be just be a little too creepy?
Technorati tags: Insomnia
Sleeping alone
Friday, December 16, 2005
Now that's ironic
Earlier this week, I wrote a post entitled "Leaving Las Vegas," and now I just got done watching the movie by the same title. It was perhaps not the best movie to watch in my current frame of mind.
"Leaving Las Vegas" has to be one of the most tortured love stories every filmed. It's truly beautiful cinema and painful to experience at the same time. The movie and I have a bit of a dark history. It reminds me of some of the best and worst times of my life. And this is probably about only the second or third time I've ever seen it, even though I own it on DVD.
On the positive side, it is a beautifully shot and acted film. And Elisabeth Shue reminds me of a girlfriend from college -- similar facial features, figure, it's almost uncanny the resemblance. And Vegas is certainly a favorite place.
But on the negative side, it's a very dark story and perhaps not the best piece of cinema to watch when drinking your third glass of Oro Azul reposado tequila of the evening, given the fact that Nicolas Cage plays an alcoholic bent of drinking himself to death.
I think when I watch the movie before I felt sorry for Cage's character. Why couldn't he see the love Shue's character had for him? Why couldn't he pull himself out of his fatal dive and appreciate the person who was right in front of him. But after this viewing, I felt most sorry for Shue's character. So lonely. Just wanting someone to be with. Someone to love and care for. Men treat her so badly throughout the film and yet she years for that closeness and compassion of another.
Sometimes you just want to crawl into bed and have someone hold you, or have someone to hold. I simple thing, sometimes so hard to find.
M*A*S*H reruns may have been a better choice for viewing tonight.
Movies
"Leaving Las Vegas" has to be one of the most tortured love stories every filmed. It's truly beautiful cinema and painful to experience at the same time. The movie and I have a bit of a dark history. It reminds me of some of the best and worst times of my life. And this is probably about only the second or third time I've ever seen it, even though I own it on DVD.
On the positive side, it is a beautifully shot and acted film. And Elisabeth Shue reminds me of a girlfriend from college -- similar facial features, figure, it's almost uncanny the resemblance. And Vegas is certainly a favorite place.
But on the negative side, it's a very dark story and perhaps not the best piece of cinema to watch when drinking your third glass of Oro Azul reposado tequila of the evening, given the fact that Nicolas Cage plays an alcoholic bent of drinking himself to death.
I think when I watch the movie before I felt sorry for Cage's character. Why couldn't he see the love Shue's character had for him? Why couldn't he pull himself out of his fatal dive and appreciate the person who was right in front of him. But after this viewing, I felt most sorry for Shue's character. So lonely. Just wanting someone to be with. Someone to love and care for. Men treat her so badly throughout the film and yet she years for that closeness and compassion of another.
Sometimes you just want to crawl into bed and have someone hold you, or have someone to hold. I simple thing, sometimes so hard to find.
M*A*S*H reruns may have been a better choice for viewing tonight.
Movies
Saturday, April 23, 2005
Ex! Why? And Zzzzzs!
I am pissed at my ex. Why? Well, she's been invading my dreams and I'm not happy about it. I thought, and pardon my language, but I thought I'd put that bitch behind me. And now she keeps showing up in my dreams.
I haven't seen this woman since the end of August. I haven't talked to her in months. Why doesn't she leave my subconscious alone?
Last night, while I was sleeping, minding my own business, she shows up. Unannounced. Uninvited. But there she is. In my dream. And I'm not sure why. She shows up at my place, and basically makes it known she's back. Now, I ask what's up, naturally, and she also makes it known that she's going to be also working at my place of employment.
And she also makes it known that we are once again sleeping in the same bed. This happens because we end up in the same bed. And I get hot, because I'm not used to sleeping with two people in one bed. And we are snuggled up, you might say. In a spoon position. So, I get warm and take off my shirt. Well, the next thing you know, we are both naked and spooning. Well, I didn't bargain for this. And somehow in the conversation she makes it known that she doesn't plan to stay. By this winter, she plans to be gone.
The dream doesn't go any farther really because shortly thereafter I wake up, because my alarm goes off.
But still, I'm a bit put out. How did this happen? Why is she there? I didn't invite her into my subconscious. In fact, I have tried to ban her thoughts and memories from my mind. But there she is. The fucking bitch!
I am not happy, and it wasn't a sex dream, so I am really not happy!
Women!
Dreams
I haven't seen this woman since the end of August. I haven't talked to her in months. Why doesn't she leave my subconscious alone?
Last night, while I was sleeping, minding my own business, she shows up. Unannounced. Uninvited. But there she is. In my dream. And I'm not sure why. She shows up at my place, and basically makes it known she's back. Now, I ask what's up, naturally, and she also makes it known that she's going to be also working at my place of employment.
And she also makes it known that we are once again sleeping in the same bed. This happens because we end up in the same bed. And I get hot, because I'm not used to sleeping with two people in one bed. And we are snuggled up, you might say. In a spoon position. So, I get warm and take off my shirt. Well, the next thing you know, we are both naked and spooning. Well, I didn't bargain for this. And somehow in the conversation she makes it known that she doesn't plan to stay. By this winter, she plans to be gone.
The dream doesn't go any farther really because shortly thereafter I wake up, because my alarm goes off.
But still, I'm a bit put out. How did this happen? Why is she there? I didn't invite her into my subconscious. In fact, I have tried to ban her thoughts and memories from my mind. But there she is. The fucking bitch!
I am not happy, and it wasn't a sex dream, so I am really not happy!
Women!
Dreams
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