Refusing to Take Insomnia Lying Down

It’s after midnight but before the first crack of the morning light. I refuse to look at the time. Why should I find out how many hours I’ve been wretchedly awake in this bed?  

Don’t think I’ve been taking my chronic insomnia lying down. I’ve beckoned the deep Zzzs by popping melatonin, Chinese herbal supplements, swallowing bee pollen, doing yoga at night. I have prayed for sleep, especially that part in the bedtime Shema where I ask God to “cast the bonds of sleep upon my eyes and slumber upon my eyelids.” I have watched British mysteries because it relaxes me to see justice done somewhere. I have practiced mindful breathing. I’ve tried not to read in bed or eat within three hours of going to bed. (I hate those rules and break them with impunity.) 

Now, I’m taking magnesium supplements while avoiding stupid activities like Googling the word “insomnia.” I will land on WebMD, which will tell me never to look at computer screens at night because the blue light disrupts normal sleep. I will learn that “sleep insufficiency” raises my risk of getting into car accidents, developing hypertension, cancer, and memory problems. Sweet dreams!

Jews are always worried about at least 212 things simultaneously: Big things, like antisemitism; and small things, like what color to paint the bathroom. 

Researchers broke a sweat figuring out that we should retire to bed as relaxed as possible. Incredible! But Jews are always worried about at least 212 things simultaneously: Big things, like antisemitism; and small things, like what color to paint the bathroom. Our brains are hives of anxiety-provoking activity when they should be powering down into sleep mode.  

I personally know people who fall asleep as easily as a lush can down a Scotch. Once I shared a hotel room with a friend. At night, we were each reading in our respective beds. After ten minutes she announced, “I’m tired. Good night.” She turned off her light, closed her eyes, and was instantly, deeply, audibly asleep! I saw this with my own eyes and cried. She understands insomnia like I understand the Vietnamese spoken in the nail salon. She doesn’t even need coffee in the morning to think.  

I shouldn’t complain, even though it’s so much fun. Often, I do sleep well. Usually those nights follow days when I exercised for at least one hour and felt accomplished in my work. I lay my kepele down on my Tempur-Pedic pillow and fall asleep within minutes — not hours. When I wake in the morning, I am in a state of near religious ecstasy. I say Modah Ani lefanecha, thanking God for the gift of a new day. I say Modah Ani every morning, even if I feel rotten, because if I can feel anything it means I’m here. By definition that is a good day.  

Somehow, I stay calm even during those excruciating nights when I fidget like a fiend until the sun rises. I may get out of bed for a glass of warm milk and a cookie. This helps transport me to dreamland, but I do this only in extremis, because of the calories. I “work” at relaxing, listening to the Aussie guy with the whispery voice on the sleep app who tells me to isolate every part of my body and let it go slack. I release my locked jaw and move on to my eyes and mouth. So far, so good. But am I relaxing my nose the right way? I can’t tell: are my nostrils slack? This is where the Jewish perfectionist streak is a curse. Aussie man coos that I should not force my breathing. I should trust that my body will breathe for me because it is natural. But isn’t sleeping also natural? How can I trust my body to keep breathing when I can’t trust it to fall asleep?

Starting tomorrow — I mean, today, since it’s now 3:41 a.m. — I will begin lying. I will tell everyone that I feel great and slept fine. I can get away with it, except with my husband, who might notice that my shirt is on inside out and that I have poured the milk half into my cereal bowl and half on the kitchen counter.  

I feel my hands starting to relax … and my arms … my toes … finally. As Shakespeare wrote, “To sleep, perchance to dream. Ay, there’s the rub.”

Judy Gruen’s latest book is “The Skeptic and the Rabbi: Falling in Love with Faith.”