my alphabet is missing a Z

2.49am

There are those incredibly lucky people who sleep. I know they exist because there are three of them who live with me. Heads hit pillows and that’s it. Lights out, see you in the morning. In fact I do suspect there are lots of these lucky beings out there. When I look out across at the apartment next to me, as one does in NYC, I see lots of lights off. So I assume they’re sleeping and I hate them for this.

Then there’s the apartment straight across from me, and the one 6 floors down. Their lights are on. I can see them wondering around. Baldie is making a sandwich and white briefs is watching TV. They are like me. People who can’t sleep. People who wake up at the slightest, lightest noise (admittedly in NYC that’s usually an ambulance or a crack whore). People who, to quote Faithless can’t “get no sleep”.

These people are usually herbal tea drinkers, naturotherapy-sleep-aid stockpilers, over-the-counter-anything-with-a-PM-attached-to-it takers. I know because I am one.
I use all the remedies, all the “cures”. I know what Valerian is, I’ve kava kaved, I’ve counted almost all the sheep in New Zealand (except for their cricket team, I’m saving them for 5am). And still, here I am, up at 3.10 am listening to my daughter snoring in the next room.

I got medical help once. Or 4 or 5 times. None of this sleep institute stuff, I hear they watch you sleep and that creeps me out, besides how do you watch an Insomniac sleep (these are the banal, stupid thoughts we have, Baldy and I at 3.20am.) But I have been to my MD and been he prescribed wonderful little pills that did actually give me a night or 6 month’s sleep. My MD did tell me that I was far to young to be having sleep problems. I agreed, took the pills and no longer had sleeping problems.

Problem is, that while the nice billionaires at the drug companies claim their Wonkaseque looking, miracle sleeping pills are non addictive (and really who can argue with a man in a white coat with a whatsit sticking out of his pocket) I find that they are. Not so much the pill. But Sleep. Sleep glorious Sleep. It’s a lovely thing when you get it. And I want it bad.

But a little voice keeps me from popping one every night. In fact I haven’t had one in 6 months. Because I don’t want to be that reliant on a pill to take me to Lucy and her sky of diamonds. I want sleep like everyone else. I just don’t.

So tonight it’ll be type meditation. Hopefully the sound of my fingers on the keyboard will lull me to sleep. So far it’s not working. Tomorrow I’ll forgo caffeine. The day after that I’ll meditate to crappy dong dong dong chants. If that doesn’t work, I’ll be up. So do pop in for a cuppa chamomile if you’re in the area at 3.39am. It’ll be nice to have the company.