insomnia

ZZZZZZZZZZZzzzzzz

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There is a caste system when it comes to sleep. Yes. Sleep. There were four people on a television station discussing Early Risers and how they look down on non-early risers. They also discussed the truthfulness of those who say they work and enjoy each day with less than six hours sleep.

My first instinct was to change the channel after muttering a polite “Who cares?”, but I stayed and listened.

Listening is almost never a bad thing, by the way. Try it.

The show was a relatively innocuous affair, and it appeared the criticism of sleeping habits was good-natured and not seasoned with malice. What I saw and heard was people with the power to communicate to a mass audience airing a particular grievance: “I want to sleep as late as I like, get up when ever I like, and not be criticized about it.” The old saying about the early birds and worms was snickered at and not just discarded but held to ridicule as inaccurate and possibly discriminatory. Most panelists wanted a flexible work schedule, presumably to show up any time they wanted.

One nice man with an English accent, remarked that we, as humans, are genetically programmed for a certain type, term, and depth of sleep. And there are only a few (it might have been 17) genetic “types” of sleepers in this world of about 8 Billion people. The four panel participants were then informed we will all be unhappy if our real life sleep schedule does not match up with our genetic “make-up” schedule

Ah, the things rich people worry about…

Or should it be semi-rich? The panel learned there is a “sweet spot” in sleep data and the very rich often suffer from bad sleep. I didn’t get the details–again–about a sleep study showing poor people sleep the worst, but the next group to suffer “bad sleep” are the “very rich.” So if you have no money, you have trouble closing your eyes and getting the sleep you need. And if you are very rich you have trouble closing your eyes and getting the sleep you need. But if you have a Goldilocks amount of money, well, that’s just great.

There’s no problem at all with America spending money and time on finding answers to our population’s needs. But…is how well we sleep, one of them? We tend to think of American Wealth as a bottomless bucket from which we can draw flows of money anytime, and that’s partly true, but a dollar spent on Subject A is a dollar not spent on any other subject.

If you sleep much, yourself, you probably do the best you can to get to bed on time, close your eyes, and stay slumbering for as much of the night as possible. So how is it going? How much of what happens to you after you go to bed can you actually control? If a “Sleep Study” published a detailed report of how people sleep in a research setting, would it make any difference to you? Would you follow the study’s recommendations? Do you have kids? A dog?

I do not sleep the same way at age 74 as I did at 18. Is there a breakdown of age groups in the study? Did my “genetic make up” change? Am I happier now or back at age 18? Ha.

Ah, crap. I’m doing the very thing this essay is about: wasting time. And money.

When I have trouble sleeping, one of the things I do is thank God for my bed, my air-conditioning, the wonderful color tv, the end of cancer in my world, and…you get the point. There are news reports about homeless people. How well do they sleep? Other reports show people sleeping 15 to one room in poor countries, even sleeping on the floor, the dirt floor.

Sometimes knowing people live that way keeps me up at night, mainly worrying it might be me someday.

There is no bottom in the bucket of serious problems in this world, but there are very few humans willing to tackle those problems.

Maybe if everyone just got a good night’s sleep…

BTW: it isn’t hypocritical to waste time writing about wasting time, is it? What about you reading it?*

*The shows panelists learned it’s okay to read on your phone while going to bed as long as you do it standing up.

To Sleep, Perchance to Dream, My Ass

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Shakespeare* wrote those words–except for “My Ass”– hundreds of years ago when a well-known, porcine-related character discussed death with himself. It is a profound, deep-meaning soliloquy with oft-quoted-out-of-context short and long sentences with clauses, semi-colons, and dramatic commas resulting in an excellent rant about Existence and the The End**.

Modern American Seniors have their own opinions, however, on what The Bard of Avon was really referring to: actual loss of sleep. It is odd how William makes “the heartache and the thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to” seem so dramatic when all we really hear is there is too much going on to get some, good, solid, long-time sleep. There are no “slings and arrows” flying across our bedrooms*** but there is a lot of cerebral activity. So much activity the poor brain stands as if in the doorway of the bedroom, ready to flick the light switch off but…can’t..do…it.

A thought racing across our brain cells IS sometimes the knowledge we can put ourselves “to sleep perchance to dream” in a very real and permanent way but we’re just not ready yet, so…

Instead we ponder the Cognitive Impairment conundrum: how it creeps up on us and when we have it, we won’t know, even as we wonder who put our car keys in the produce drawer of the refrigerator.

Or we wonder why we feel so good but still can’t generate enough interest in a late dinner at our favorite restaurant to get us out of our favorite chair.

And is there anyone who will listen to us and invent easy-on, easy-off socks?

Even worse: is there anyone who will listen to us at all?

The night then becomes a debate between…what was I talking about?

Oh, yes, how hard it is to sleep the good sleep, anymore. Most nights start well, even when the Yankees lose. But after the first few hours of sleep, when the first bathroom “break” wakes us with an unnecessary urgency, and shortly after we check the refrigerator for the perfect, healthy snack that won’t harm our brushed teeth or sensitive digestion system, it is the re-falling back asleep that fails, utterly****.

After the many nights this happens it is clearly no longer about slings and arrows or The End, but a thought all its own that consumes one: will I ever get back to sleep? The question is accompanied by the close observation and analysis of anything that comes to mind from the macro, like our current high inflation, to the micro: will I be warm enough without socks?

Running out pf space, as usual, but when your own brain becomes your own sleep disrupter…well, I never remember that happening as a young man.

Hmm. Is that because of a bad memory, it never happened, or Cognitive Decline?

Let me sleep on it.

*Probably. Or he may not have. Or someone else did. A guy named Bacon. Or an alien.

**Most Americans probably can recite this speech by simply muttering every short, trite saying they’ve heard about Shakespeare. To be or not to be. Whether tis nobler.  To sleep, etc…oh, and “the tyranny of life”.

***Or any of the other areas we may try to get (eye) closure.

****Wonderfully guttural word. And, yes, that is how I found my keys.

*****In upstate NY the temperatures change fast. A semi-nude, 80 degree outside sleep session can be sadly ended when the toes warn your body the early-morning outside temperature has dropped to 60. Socks, again?