In the two days since I last wrote something here, I have not had any wine, I have slept a full night (until 5.15am), and both my skin and my outlook are radiant. Not a coincidence, I'm sure. The wind is blowing through the oak outside my window, and I walked the dogs late in the dark on the common, as I got the 10.30pm train from Euston. The dogs don't care a bit about the rain. They're happy to bomb about on the cricket pitch, getting their feet muddy. My darling man is going to Australia tomorrow morning, but tonight he took me to see Michael Clark's extraordinary dance company at the Barbican, dancing to Satie, and Patti Smith and David Bowie. I found myself moved beyond measure, but perhaps that's because we were sitting dead center, three rows back, and I could see the facial expressions and lipstick of everyone on stage. C sat next to me with his arm around me the entire time and I felt myself swooning and wondered if it were possible to feel happier. Mr McDuck and Aladdin Sane after an almost full night of sleep; a heady combination.
I hope you all sleep well. xo
4 comments:
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The difference can be seem immediately, I know all too well, but, I still enjoy my wine and find it difficult to abstain. Cheers to you.
So glad you slept. After your previous post I wrote you a response, but I set it aside to re-read before I sent it, and then got your new post. During a stressful time in my life, my inability to sleep became a nightmare. Day was night, night was day. Sleep was small periods of passing out from exhaustion. I began to drink alcohol to try to calm myself. It didn't work. After my 2007 PTSD diagnosis, I began trying to re-stabilize my life. (A slow process.) Since my PTSD psychologist was at Stanford, I made an appointment with a doctor at Stanford's sleep center as well. The doctor explained what we now read everywhere, which is that the biggest support of good sleep is good sleep hygiene. When I follow those guidelines, I sleep. My parents lived by happy routines, and they rarely drank alcohol, except for wine or Champagne with celebratory meals. Their sleep routine—it was just who they were and how they lived—was early to bed, the bedroom for nothing but sleep and sex, and quiet in the evening in the hour or two before bed. I think there is a genetic component to our sleep, though, since my mom slept well every night of her 94-year life, while my dad sometimes had insomnia that had him wandering the house in the middle of the night. As to insomnia affecting aging? My dad died at 89, a happy man. (He said "I feel so loved" to our gathered family three days before he died.) Before too many traumatic events in my life, I was a good sleeper like my mom. I've had to work to get back to a serene place for sleep. I sleep best when I don't drink alcohol in the evening, turn off all electronic devices around 9 and put them downstairs. (More and more I feel the tyranny of phones and computers; I'm searching for a balance.) I get in bed between 9 and 10, read in low light, and turn off my light to go to sleep at 11. I'm a night owl, so this is something I've had to train myself to do. If I pair the previous with a regular time I'm up and out of bed, exposure to natural light as early in the day as possible, meditation to quiet my racing mind, and daily exercise, I get my best sleep. The concussions and car accident have disrupted my routine. I'm slowly getting it back. You are in my thoughts. I love your honest posts, each of which I read, whether I comment or not. What you write is familiar to me and enriches my life. xo.
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