2 o'clock in the morning

(This blog was first published on the Bournemouth Echo's website and also by The Blog Paper on 1st October 2009).

The house is mine. It is quiet apart from the low hum of the dishwasher, the beeping of the ‘fridge freezer which my husband, for the third time in six weeks, has tried to fix by defrosting the already pristine and frost-free freezer. He is slowly coming around to the idea that we do actually need a new one ... and it hurts him so!

I can hear the sounds of a sleeping house – at least one with two sleepy dogs in it. I have a small West Highland White Terrier sprawled, tummy upwards, at my side and an enthusiastically idiotic German Shepherd also lying on her back at my feet. Occasionally one of them snuffles or groans slightly and it is a very good feeling to be alone but in such congenially uncommunicative company.

I moan a great deal of the time about suffering from insomnia but at this hour, my gripes are very few as I question who exactly I would be if I didn’t suffer from it. I am a creature of the night. If I need to think about something carefully and logically I do so far better after midnight than I ever manage to during the daytime.

If there is ONE element of creativity in me, it never rears its “innovative” head during daylight hours. I just never feel quite confident enough during the daytime to write about how I’m feeling or anything about which I feel strongly; under cover of darkness, however, my fingers struggle to keep pace with the rapid release of some often very mundane thoughts – perhaps mistakenly assuming that what I have to impart is somehow important.

Sometimes I take a look at the time and think, “Heck, my son has to be at school in less than six hours” but such thoughts are fleeting and I don’t take much notice of them. This is my time.

A Long Night's Journey into Day

Did you sleep well last night? Yes? Good! Did you sleep well the night before that, too? Yes? Even better!

I quite simply can’t remember the last time I had a “decent” night’s sleep – and my idea of the length of a “decent night” may well be somewhat shorter than yours. I would be just SO happy to sleep for 4 or 5 hours each night but, for the past month or so, I’ve felt lucky if I’ve dozed off for about 3 hours and more often than not, I’ve managed barely 2 hours at most. I suffer from insomnia.

I’ve always been a “night owl” and, after 15 years of marriage, DH is now getting used to passing me on the stairs during the wee, small hours. His work often involves having to leave the house extremely early in the morning and he really does need a full 8 hours if he’s to function sensibly. If I go up at a “reasonable” hour, I can’t read in bed as light disturbs him and I end up tossing and turning which also isn’t conducive to his sleep patterns. So, I have a habit of just staying up until he’s about ready to rise.

“The last refuge of the insomniac is a sense of superiority to the sleeping world”

Leonard Cohen

I can’t say I really feel “superior” about being so wakeful – however creative I may be during the night, I’m no match for Leonard Cohen but I don’t actually mind being awake at night ... and never have done. I like the peace and the quiet. It’s the only part of the day that I own! The telephone doesn’t ring, I don’t receive text messages that need urgent attention, DH doesn’t disturb me by giving me a running commentary on a TV programme that we’re both watching and The Joshua isn’t chuntering at me.

The hours of darkness are mine and I’m usually quite productive during them ... I read, do a crossword, write, listen to music, occasionally watch TV if there happens to be something worthwhile seeing on – but I also like the opportunity to sleep in the following day in order to catch up. DH, if he’s here is actually pretty accommodating in this regard and will often just “leave me be” until I happen to wake up – but most of the time I have no option but to get up (if I’ve actually made it to bed in the first place) and join in with “normal” people during “their” hours. And that’s hard!

This week, with DH once again in Europe, I felt as if I simply had to take some action and went to see my GP who was most sympathetic and prescribed a course of Temazepam for me. I’m not a great fan of sleeping tablets, but last night I did take the suggested dose. I suppose they may be working because I managed just over 3 hours.

A friend had told me that the world would seem a better place if I had some sleep. I have to say it still seemed pretty awful when I switched on the 7.00am News this morning ... and I felt like taking the tablets back to the chemist and demanding a refund of the prescription fee! Tonight, I’ve again taken the recommended dosage and I’m at last starting to feel that bed might just be the right place for me!

So, if you happen to pass a pale person with eyes that resemble “p**s holes in the snow” and who is acting in a slightly detached fashion – not really able to concentrate and not enormously communicative it could be me ... suffering from either insomnia or a Temazepam hangover. I’ll be the one who is letting just about everything “get” to her and who is seemingly incapable of making a rational decision about anything at all! I’m not unfriendly when I’m like this – but I’m not all that easy to cope with either! Perhaps best to leave it until mid/late afternoon to tell me anything that I need to remember – as that’s when I start to rally from the confused misty haze of the previous night’s wakefulness. I get “second wind” at about 10.30pm and that’s when I feel most “on the ball”.

Anyway, it’s coming up to 1.30am and – yawn – I’m closing down now and feeling quite hopeful of about 5 hours “uninterrupted” tonight. I hope you’ll have had a “decent” night, too!

“O sleep, O gentle sleep, nature’s soft nurse, how have I frightened thee, that thou no more wilt weigh my eye-lids down and steep my senses in forgetfulness?”

Henry IV – Part 1: William Shakespeare