You know it is time to ask for help when the sleepy little Waze guy in his comfy hammock above the words Sleep Mode bring you to tears.
I am not making this up.
In case anyone other than my mother has noticed my absence here on the blog, I haven’t written much lately because I have been operating on decreased brain power. In the last few weeks, I have experienced two long stretches of sleepless nights. Four or five nights in a row of less than three hours of sleep results in subpar functioning for this already middle-aged muddled brain. Writing coherent words was not happening.
No sleep also pisses me off and makes me say more curse words than usual.
As I have lamented here before, middle age hormones have been disruptive to my much beloved sleep. Until recently, the disruption to my sleep primarily looked like a few restless nights a month and was generally well managed with strategic doses of Benadryl and Melatonin.
Recently however, I have begun to have nights where I flip and flop until the wee hours of the morning or never fall asleep at all. In recent weeks, this has turned into a nightly ritual and a gigantic pain in the ass. When I started crying at the sight of the Waze guy dozing in his hammock, I knew it was time to go see my doctor.
Here is the good news: thanks to the miracle of modern medicine, I finally slept for 9 uninterrupted hours last night. In a bed. All night. When I woke up and looked at my watch this morning, I threw my arms over my head with fist pumps of victory. I haven’t been so grateful for a decent night’s sleep since my babies first slept through the night.
Perhaps you are thinking to yourself, So what. We all have problems, Kelly. Why are you telling us about this and why should we care?
I’m so glad you asked. Continue reading