Maybe it’s hormones, maybe it’s stress, and maybe it’s my binge watching of violent young adult dystopian dramas (see last week’s column) before bed, but for the life of me, I cannot sleep straight through the night anymore. And I’m not talking about getting up to use the bathroom – I’ve accepted this annoyance as a fact of aging and three pregnancies. No, I’m speaking of hours of lying awake, tossing and turning, trying desperately to rein in my thoughts.
Last night, for example, I spent a solid 40 minutes contemplating running for political office. Which office? Could I keep teaching? What if I won? Debates are scary. How much do those gigs pay? Maybe I should go to law school first. Then, I segued into probably another 30 minutes on a potential spring break vacay. Where could we drive for warm weather and ocean views? How much could we spend? How does a pandemic factor into this sunny scenario? Is a spray tan necessitated?
At some point, stream-of-consciousness thinking takes over: I hope we win Mega Millions. I can’t forget to take my gym bag tomorrow. Did I ever return my mother-in-law’s call? In the event of a zombie apocalypse, I’m definitely heading to Rockville. Could I pull off being blonde? Bangs? Abraham Lincoln was a complicated fella. Who invented pizza? And so on.
It’s exhausting, and not in any way that allows me to fall back asleep. I try mediation, deep breathing, and occasionally, yes, even counting sheep. But usually to no avail.
Stupid hormones and stress! And maybe “The 100,” though that beautiful show is worth it.