"In its early stages, insomnia is almost an oasis in which those who have to think or suffer darkly take refuge.” -Colette
My first recollection of insomnia was when I was twelve. I would lie in bed and my imagination would take possession of my mind. The characters in the novels that I read would come to life and suddenly Steven King's boogie man was in my closet, Mr. Darcy was saving me from the evil confines of my lonely life, and the desperation that Esther Greenwood felt in The Bell Jar belonged to me. I couldn't escape it and didn't really know if I truly wanted to. I enjoyed my long evenings with the characters within the walls of my mind. They comforted me... I understood them.
Now that I am older and insomnia still plagues me, I have a different outlook. I want to SLEEP! Don't mistake me; I love the thoughts that only come to me when I lie in bed desperately longing for REM sleep, however with three boys, a full time job, homework, housework, a husband, etc. etc. etc. a good night sleep would be a warm welcome.
I've tried: chamomile tea, warm milk, no television, meditation, reading, and even prescription medications. Nothing works.
I guess now the only option I have is to embrace the moments when I cannot sleep and use them to my advantage. I will write, clean (ehhh, maybe not), read, and have time to myself.
Hmmm, can I do it?