Tag: insomnia

If I didn’t need sleep …

Daily writing prompt
If you didn’t need sleep, what would you do with all the extra time?
View all responses

I can hardly imagine not needing sleep. Sleep feels like a blessed release from the mental demands of the day, and I enjoy going to sleep as if it were a chosen activity rather than a necessity. I have (because of my bipolar) had episodes where I couldn’t sleep, and it’s an aggravating feeling. For the sake of this exercise, however, I will imagine not needing sleep without consequences to my body or psyche.

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

The first thing I would do more of is read. Not the internet, but real books, because I would have time to get into them. I would find a comfortable spot to read and l would relax. My bed could be used for a place to relax because I would not be sleeping there.

I would look at the night sky more. All the interesting astronomical bits such as meteor showers and auroras happen late at night, when I am sleeping.

I would write. I wonder if inspiration would be easier at night when all was quiet?

I would meditate. As I would miss sleeping, it would be good to have that time when I can shut off my mind.

All of this is predicated on the belief that others would be asleep, and I would have the peace and quiet to pull off my plans. If nobody slept, this time wouldn’t be free. Bosses would expect more overtime and household chores would overtake us. Then I would certainly prefer sleeping.

Lack of Sleep

Bad things happen when I get only three hours of sleep.

I view life looking through the telescope backward, and the world is a tiny pinpoint surrounded by black. My body feels like it is wavering in space, like heat shimmers on the road.  My brain gets overwhelmed by my ears ringing, and my emotions heat up for a confrontation.

That’s where I was yesterday, on a trip to Kansas City. I didn’t feel tired, or even exhausted — I simply didn’t feel anything inside my cocoon. My words were variations on “how dare you not see that we shouldn’t have come down here?”

Lack of sleep is a dangerous condition for me, because it kicks off hypomanic attacks, where I drag myself through life trying to accomplish everything, sleeping little while watching words and phrases put themselves together like train cars in a railyard. I will probably not be going there thanks to my medications and a twelve-hour nap last night. Still, I fear that place enough that I take care of myself and follow instructions.   

This morning feels better — I overslept for an extra hour and I still feel groggy, but it’s time for me to wake up and write.