Let's talk for a while about sleep. Many people I know (myself included) are struggling with sleep. You can go through long years of being a fine sleeper, your eight or nine hours coming to you every night like a blessing. And, like the lucky parents of a "good" first child, you attribute your good sleep to your own virtue.
It may indeed be that. Some people, I think, are natural-born sleepers, conking right out when the head hits the pillow. What I want to look at here is what happens when, at a certain age, sleep becomes a difficult proposition and the non-sleeper, formerly the good sleeper, is left adrift on the raft of her mattress.
Why this change? It sometimes happens after menopause. It sometimes comes with age, when you wake two or three times a night to pee and after one of these awakenings your body just can't find sleep again. Sometimes it's just too much stress, too much worry, too much awareness of all that can go wrong.
Dr. Google, books, and magazines capitalize on this widespread phenomenon and deluge us with advice—scientific, alternative thinking, spiritual, behavioural. Do this. Do that. I don't like being told what to do. I continue to use my bed for reading (you're supposed to reserve the bed and the bedroom for sleep alone). But I do have a few thoughts.
They say, sometimes, that you need less sleep as you get older. Maybe, but I think this theory arose from thirty-year-old researchers who don't have a clue what it feels like to lie awake from 1:30 to 5 a.m., and then to fall into a deep full-dream sleep that doesn't end until you're ninety minutes late to start the day.
A few techniques:
Lie calmly in bed, accepting that deep sleep might elude you that night.
Get up and read (or simply turn on the light and read in bed, if you aren't sharing the room/bed with someone who will be awakened by the light). Don't read the latest Lee Child, which will stir your blood and keep you awake forever. Read something boring.
Stop fretting and breathe. (I think this is essentially the same as the first suggestion.)
The next day, take one or two ten-minute naps. Many people respond to this suggestion with a brusque, "Oh, I never take naps." So righteous. It may be time for a change. If you never take naps but you find yourself sleep-deprived after several bad nights, try my kind of nap. Set the timer for ten or fifteen minutes. Lie in your darkened bedroom, covered with a light blanket, flat on your back (with an eye-shade if you have one or even a clean sock over your eyes if you don't) and allow your whole body to relax. Sink into the mattress and the pillow. Do not try to go to sleep. This is not a time for sleeping but for re-setting the body's energy. Focus on your breath. Relax. When the timer dings, slowly get up and go back to your day. You can do this whenever you feel tired, even if it's as early as right after breakfast. Do this when you need to. Don't fall asleep. Don't take one of those two-hour-long naps that leave you dazed and foggy.
Now, about this business of not ever napping. Since your sleep patterns are changing, perhaps it's time to consider changing other things. Just because you have always said truthfully that you never take naps doesn't bind you to that for the rest of your existence. A relaxing ten minutes might be just what your new, changing body needs. Stop clinging to old beliefs just because they're familiar.
And if you, like me, don't like being told what to do, just ignore everything I've said.
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