Secret to Treating Sleep Problems

It was 2:00am when my brother rang me to tell me Dad passed away. I was already half-awake — I just zombie walked a trip to the loo. Colin answered the phone and when he said it was my brother, my first thought was that they had their baby a few weeks early. But the look on his face when he handed me the phone quickly told me otherwise.

I more or less had sleep problems since then. Sometimes they would go away, but for the most part I would wake up at 2:00am on the dot. I tried all sorts of things. We got a new bed, no luck. I quit caffeine which seemed to help some. I began to wear eye blinds and ear plugs. I kept a Gratitude Journal. That helped.

A friend of mine who has also been battling sleep problems recently posted on Facebook that her journaling has cured her for three days straight. Every night or morning, whichever you prefer, you write down everything that riddles you in the night. And go deep to the route of the cause. Why is it bothering you? Is there something deeper? Get it all out and on paper.

I haven’t tried the journaling yet because miraculously these last few weeks my sleep has been better than ever. By 9pm I can’t keep my eyes open any longer and I’m zonked out with lucid filled dreams until 7am. A solid ten hours. I even ditched the ear plugs. Part of me doesn’t like admitting this because it’s sort of up there with people who brag about eating anything they want and not gaining an ounce.

I have my recent job change to thank. I started working from home a few weeks ago. I have a lovely office with big windows overlooking our street below. I get to see suburbia life at it’s fullest – delivery trucks, lawn services, dog walkers. But most of all I get daylight. Something I didn’t have a lick of for years in cublicle-land. It’s amazing how much my body responds to natural sunlight.

My 2:00am What-if’s may return and if they do, I have a pen and notebook waiting to fight them off! I leave you now with a poem that would rumble through my head during those early waking hours.

Whatif by Shel Silverstein

Last night, while I lay thinking here,
some Whatifs crawled inside my ear
and pranced and partied all night long
and sang their same old Whatif song:
Whatif I’m dumb in school?
Whatif they’ve closed the swimming pool?
Whatif I get beat up?
Whatif there’s poison in my cup?
Whatif I start to cry?
Whatif I get sick and die?
Whatif I flunk that test?
Whatif green hair grows on my chest?
Whatif nobody likes me?
Whatif a bolt of lightning strikes me?
Whatif I don’t grow talle?
Whatif my head starts getting smaller?
Whatif the fish won’t bite?
Whatif the wind tears up my kite?
Whatif they start a war?
Whatif my parents get divorced?
Whatif the bus is late?
Whatif my teeth don’t grow in straight?
Whatif I tear my pants?
Whatif I never learn to dance?
Everything seems well, and then
the nighttime Whatifs strike again!