There’s nothing like eyes wide open at 3 a.m. everyday for weeks in a row.
I‘ve decided to just embrace it and make it work for me. Instead of counting baby sheep trying to force myself back to sleep, I’ll get up and make use of the extra hours. Look how well famous insomniac Martha Stewart fared.
An article I read awhile ago said that humans need less and less sleep as we get older. Hmmmmm. Does that mean I’m getting old?
Speaking of the elderly, I spent two weeks going to the hospital every night, researching senior housing, moving mom to a rehab facility, looking at management companies to rent mom’s townhouse, trying to get a power of attorney notarized and just generally running around like a chicken with my head cut off. All for naught.
Mom told me yesterday that she’s going home and that’s that. To make her point that she can handle the stairs in her townhouse, she got up and walked to the bathroom in her little rehab suite without the walker she’ had used all week. Hmmmmm. Does that mean mom’s NOT old?
What got her all in a tizzy was the mac-n-cheese served for dinner at the rehab facility. See, when it comes to food, mom is German. And I mean German as in outspoken and cranky if food doesn’t meet her taste buds. Mom hates “American food”, mac-n-cheese topping the list.
Pooing in a bedside chair? No problem. Have someone bathe your bottom after pooing in a bedside chair? That’s not so bad. But never eating authentic German liverwurst again? Well now that’s just going too far.
It dawned on mom that the senior apartment we were lining up for her had three American meals a day included in the rent. It was the thought of being at the mercy of someone else’s menu planning for the rest of her years that convinced mom that she wants her independence. And I cannot be more thrilled! Of course, there’s still the little issue of her trying to kill herself, so I’m tempering my optimism with caution. Just because mom wants to go home doesn’t mean she can.
As for my insomnia, I can’t blame it entirely on this ordeal. Yes, I have been awake at 3 a.m. every single night for two weeks. I was so beat that I took a sick day from work this week just to sleep and nap all day.
Although it’s usually not this pronounced, I’ve always had sleeping issues. As a child, I used to keep my current book and a little flashlight to read by under my pillow.
I’m a classic worry wart. My subconscious mind goes over and over problems. They don’t even have to be my own or life-or-death problems. Think of it as a computer in a continuous loop working in the background and I wake up when the loop “crashes” into my conscious.
It’s the way my brain is wired. You’d think I would’ve stop fighting it long ago. Better late than never. Instead of tossing and turning, I’m just going to get up and make hay while husband snores. Perhaps I, too, can turn the extra hours into a dynasty 
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