Gentle Sleep

Oh sleep! it is a gentle thing,

Beloved from pole to pole.

                             ~Samuel Taylor Coleridge

I slept in a bed last night for the first time in a long time…at least three weeks.  I mostly crash out on the floor or fold up into an armchair, and I wake up feeling substantially less than stellar.  I never stay asleep for long.  Most nights, I never formulate the intent of going to sleep.  My best method for konking out is heavy drinking, so I’ve been doing quite a bit of that lately in the evenings.  However, both alcohol and drugs have an annoying chemical rebound effect, so before I know it, I’m awake and restless.  Once the sun is up and I’m effectively exhausted, I can usually catch a good nap.  I sleep best around 8 or 9AM (just in time for work).  

Last night was divine.  I put on pajamas, grabbed Grover (my faithful and steadfast companion), crawled into bed, stretched out on the soft mattress, and pulled the covers up to my chin.  I didn’t know I felt so rundown, but once I was laying down, I suddenly became indescribably exhausted and weary, as if I hadn’t slept in a year.  I don’t think I’ve ever been that tired before.  I melted into the mattress and my eyelids became like lead.  My bed was fit for a royal palace, and I was so completely grateful for it.  It felt heavenly to stretch out and just relax.  I let my mind drift where it pleased, but it was emptied of thoughts and distractions; it simply was.  I soaked up every minute of the experience until I blissfully fell asleep moments later.




Filed under My Life, Sleep

2 responses to “Gentle Sleep

  1. bottlecappie

    Hooray for sleep! Sleep, beautiful sleep, it’s so sanity inducing, so restorative, such an effective way to pass time ;)

    I’m so glad to read that you’re feeling a bit better. And grover! so sweet. It’s nice to have someone to snuggle.

    I’m still thinking of you, sending you good vibes. Keep nurturing that part of yourself that longs to be well and eventually it will be stronger than the desire for oblivion. Well, that’s what I’m telling myself anyway. Take care.

  2. Kevin Olsen

    I have few addictions. Praise God! But I’d have to say that if I had an “escape mechanism” it would be sleep.

    I don’t drown my sorrows. I don’t enter into a chemically induced reality. When I experience deep rows with life, my initial reaction is to slip on a pair of shorts, shut my drapes, cradle my body between my massive comforter (with a swath of it between my legs), plunge my head into my pillow, grab a second pillow to my chest, and drift into oblivion. That is my escape. It’s definately less hazerdous than other addictions.

    But I guess the real question is as cogent for me as it is for you. Why escape? Is there really anything so terrible, so awful, and so depressing that it can’t be defeated by the combined efforts of me, God, and my loved ones?

    The answer is a resounding “no!” So even my “escape sleep” becomes a self-destructive habit.

    Here’s to the ultimate annihilation of addictions!

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