Sleepless nights.
Honestly, they’re my worst nightmare. At least with my worst nightmares, I actually get some form of sleep – no matter how harrowing it is.
It’s so annoying. I don’t remember being troubled by this affliction as a kid. Maybe now and again when there was a reason – like getting over-excited the night before Christmas or something. But surely I am not over-excited about the pending day of work which faces me in the morning. Why should tomorrow be of any particular relative joy? Surely it’ll be the same mundane working day as ever. Except I’ll be dead knackered.
So many theories about how to cope in this situation. I definitely shouldn’t move. My brother in law reckons it’s best to keep perfectly still. Don’t look at the clock. He says you may as well give your body some rest, even if you can’t rest your mind. There’s certainly a logic there, but my mind always starts feeling neglected. If I’m not getting myself all worked up by blowing day to day incidents out of proportion, I’m busy convincing myself how my chin has an itch to scratch, or that I’m feeling the first dewy remnants of a wee in my bladder and I should probably go to the toilet now. I’ll give myself any self-loathing excuse to not keep still. The only rule I honestly manage is avoiding the sight of the clock.
The other school of thought is to take your mind off your problem by getting up and doing something else for a while, like watching television. But what’s on at this time? Channels 4 and 5? Oh joy. Niche sports.
Believe me, I’d rather poke my own eyes out than spectate even the most mainstream sports. The thought of watching specialist sports whilst in a state of sleep deprivation is enough to depress me to my own suicide. It is a mere one rung higher on the desolation -stakes than ITV’s NIghtscreen. Officially the loneliest place - not just on the planet – but the whole desolate, pointless universe. It is the televisual equivalent of a Pot Noodle on Neptune. But in a bad way.
BBC’s News 24 isn’t much better either. Ok, so the newsreader is a human being talking straight to you live and alive, at the godforsaken time of whatever. And you might even briefly fool yourself into believing this is some sort of ‘company’ through your silent hours. But you’re always aware that newsreader has another agenda. He or she is just a fair-weather friend selling you short. It’s ok for them; before another day of work, they’ll be looking forward to clocking off and getting to bed. But you’ve got to get up early. They might as well be some parasitic killjoy nicking your last can whilst simultaneously informing you the party’s over. And that clock too. Permanently there in the corner of the screen. FOR GOD’S SAKE DON’T LOOK AT THE TIME. It’ll only depress you further, telling you how many ‘X amount of hours’ you’ve failed to sleep. Or how terrible you should feel tomorrow morning having only had ‘X amount of hours’ sleep. It’s best not to know these things. Ignorance is bliss. You’ll only torture yourself.
So this morning I’ve lay awake, trying my best to ignore the clock, but still being silently curious of the time. In fact I’ve applied so much energy frustrated by my curiosity, that the next thing I see is the beginnings of dawn beginning to break through the window. Such a sight is my final horror. At this point, there is nothing left to do but admit defeat. There’s no point in even trying anymore. I might as well just surrender to the fact my alarm will be sounding soon, and I will need to face another horrific, sleep deprived day of work. And at that point my mind’s torment seems to loosen. Having given up at the 9th hour, I am finally released into a…
zzzz…
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