This not sleeping thing is a killer. Actually, it is. I read that the less you sleep the shorter your life will be. At this rate I'll make it to about 61. It's not just the exhaustion, the lack of energy, but it's one's world picture which becomes distorted and the (albeit mild) paranoia that sets in, questioning one's actions, pondering the motives of others, instead of seeing the world as bountiful and blissful and benign. For those who do sleep, I am in awe of you. For those that don't, let's work this out together.
There are a few things that are taking a toll on sleep for all of us.
1) 45. Yeah, I can't even say his name any more because it makes me wince. That man with the orange face who lives in the White House, who has made a mockery of the Presidency, and has demeaned America in the eyes of every other nation in the world. Every day we live with the underlying anxiety of wondering what his next move will be and whether, in fact, we will have a world to live in.
2) The weather. The sands from the Sahara have been whipped up in England to produce eerily orange and brown skies. Once again, the fear is that maybe, while we were listening to a nice podcast and driving along the M11, Trump's small hands had been fumbling too close to the nuclear button and North Korea had retaliated.
3) Harvey. Every single woman I know (Every. Single. Woman.) has been re-living sexual harassment and abuse. We'd all tamped it down. We'd all told ourselves that what happened to us wasn't a big deal, that people had it worse. But in some beautiful, Jungian, mind-meld of consciousness, we've all started to remember together, in the knowledge that other women have in fact gone through a similar thing, and suddenly, now, we feel safe in shining a light on all these things. For too long we've been told that we have to smile, laugh it off, make a joke of it, make the man feel better about himself for being wildly inappropriate (great piece here on this: here), we've been told, oh that's just what men do, and now it's not okay any more. Hugest kudos and love and respect to Rose McGowan, Ashley Judd and all the women who came out and poked a hole in the dam so big that the geyser is covering all of us. Last night, I vented on Facebook, just briefly about the horrible encounters I could remember, the squirming feeling that is hard to shake, the awful uncomfortableness of being a child with no recourse when there is a predator, not knowing who to turn to, or how, or why it's happening, but just knowing, in a small, dark place inside that it IS wrong.
4) Devices In Bedrooms. I am an addict. I keep my phone by my bed even when I know I shouldn't because it fills the dark, sleepless hours. I vow to stop this.
5) Wine. I drank almost a full bottle of wine last night after venting about horrible men. My darling wasn't here and I felt alone and I drank a full bottle of wine. Note to self: wine does not aid sleep. Not a bit. Time for a few nights of mint tea, methinks.
Is there anything I've missed?
And so as not to end on a dark note, please read this beautiful piece by my teacher Tej on depression and ways to help it:
Yogic Tips for Handling Depression