Insomnia. Who doesn’t suffer from it occasionally? It is the frustrating inability to get to sleep, stay asleep, or go back to sleep after waking up too early. Many times, it’s caused by stress or anxiety, but not always. It would be safe for me to say that every single post-menopausal woman I know (okay, maybe not every one) wrestles with insomnia, and stress or anxiety doesn’t play into it. Not every night, maybe not every week, but often enough to have it dictate what they’re preparing for dinner the following evening.
Last night was my turn to have this unwelcome visitor show up. I withdrew from a quilting class I wanted to take today, and dinner is some premade dish coming out of the freezer tonight.
Our pollen count right now is at “very high” levels and thank you meteorologist, but I really don’t need you to tell me this. My head is a mess, and with our picture-perfect weather, I am staying inside with the doors and windows closed. I feel more house-bound than early COVID days.
In an effort to fight my symptoms a little harder, I tried a new allergy med before I went to bed last night. Allergy med-induced insomnia. Is that really insomnia or simply a side effect? Does it matter?
Last night from about 11 pm to 4 am, I replayed conversations I had in sixth grade with a school buddy, questioned why I didn’t study harder in college, and wondered why Oreos taste so good. I tried the 5-4-3-2-1 sesory test and identified a city beginning with each letter of the alphabet. I lined up quilting projects and reworked a chapter in my book. It’s all a benefit of insomnia. Before I was done, I had selected my funeral clothes which is stupid because my plans are to be cremated. I’ll admit, it’s stupid for other reasons as well.
But, that wasn’t the worst of it.
For some unknown reason, Paula Abdul serenaded me all night long. That’s right. Paula Abdul, not Lionel Ritchie. I would have preferred Michael Buble, a little John Legend or some old Barbara Streisand. But no, it was Paula Abdul’s 1988 hit, Straight Up. Over and over and over. It didn’t matter how I tossed or which way I turned. Paula was singing in my head. Even my white noise app didn’t drown her out.
Now, I can’t say I’ve ever been a fan of Ms. Abdul’s, and this is the only song of hers that I know. And I don’t recall hearing it lately, but this morning, I discovered the first line is lost in a dream. Was it all a dream? Carl Jung and Sigmund Freud, both psychoanalysts in the field of dream work, would have had a field day with this, I am sure. But it wasn’t a dream. It was insomnia, set to the music of Paula Abdul.
I don’t really care what any of it means. Tonight, I’m going back to Zyrtec and all I want is a good night sleep. And for Paula Abdul to get outta my dreams. (Billy Ocean, also 1988.)
Hope you’re all sleeping well, my friends.