I'll Sleep When I'm Awake
I forgot to stop getting up for a job I don't have anymore
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It’s been 343 days since I had a rent job.
I’m 67, so you might assume I retired—I didn’t, I was coerced out of a job. That’s irrelevant, at least to this little rant, but I never miss a chance to stomp my foot. What is germane—it’s been 343 days since I needed to get up at 7 AM.
I finally switched the alarm to “off” five days ago.
For 338 of the 343 days I’ve been at my leisure, my phone screamed at me at 7 AM, and I got up and started my day, even when I had nowhere I had to be. Even if Mom had me up late, or in the middle of the night once, twice, sometimes three times, the phone still screamed, I got up and started my day at 7 AM.
Five days ago, I turned it off.
I’d started working when I was 14 or 15 years old. Occasionally, I took a summer off and lived on unemployment, and there were a couple of years of underemployment, when you could ride the unemployment train for two years. Thanks, Obama! Even then, I was cleaning houses, walking dogs, doing transcription, working coat check.
I’ve worked. I work.
Drunk, drugged up, and sober, I work.
Sleeping when the sun is up feels like wasting daylight1.
Sleeping when Mom is asleep feels like wasting the quiet time.
Sleeping when the aides are here feels like wasting an opportunity.
Somewhere along the way, I internalized “I’ll sleep when I’m dead.”
But, I love sleep.
I have recurring dreams I enjoy, places I like visiting and exploring in slumber. I’ve played with the idea of lucid dreaming—which, unfortunately, doesn’t work if you’re exhausted, which is the only time I intentionally go to bed. I let myself sleep when I literally can’t stay awake anymore, can’t push it another minute. I deny myself that pleasure in fear of missing another.
I’m bone-weary, exhausted, sleep-deprived. Stick a fork in me, I’m done. And yet…I’m still up until midnight or one or two in the morning. The alarm still screams at 7 AM to get me up to go…nowhere in particular. I missed so much during the lost years2, I want every bit of life I can get now.
“While scientists still debate sleep’s true purpose, research has proven it to be essential for survival.” 14403
According to that 1440 piece I just quoted, sleep shifts your short-term memories into long-term storage, boosts your immune system, and clears out toxins you inadvertently collected during while awake. Without it? You’re looking at cognitive decline, emotional instability, increased risks of heart attack, Alzheimer’s disease, and motor vehicle accidents.
I’ve had memory problems way before the lack of sleep, now I’m just adding fuel to the “I don’t remember” fire. Have I mentioned the multiple car accidents I caused that led me to suggest to myself that maybe I stop driving until life got…more emotionally stable. That’s in the list too. Oops.
In other words, FOMO is ruining my health.
Twice in one short subway ride yesterday, I fell asleep and woke with a start, a wee bit of drool on my chin—was I coming home or on my way somewhere?
I’ve snoozed standing in a crowded bus, holding a pole so I don’t fall,
I’ve dozed in a chair, while waiting in a hall.
I’ve drifted off while my teeth were being drilled,
Even slept through an MRI, with its sounds both deep and shrilled.4
It took six months of sobriety for me to realize I could go to bed before 4 AM. I was getting up at 7 AM then, too. So, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised it took almost a full year of not working, not having to be anywhere I didn’t want to be, to realize I could go to bed early and sleep late.
Next month, I’ll be at one of my favorite conferences, the Woodstock Bookfest. I’m looking forward to catching up with friends I rarely see who live up there, and those friends I’ve met through the Bookfest (hi Nan, hi Abby) and the thing I’m looking forward to the most?
Catching up with sleep. Sleeping in. Sleeping through the night. Going to sleep early.
Maybe because it’s not home, when I’m there I don’t feel like I should be doing something if I’m awake. I’m a terrible relaxer, have a half dozen unfinished projects going on at the same time, all calling for my attention. Maybe that’s what my vacations are for, a little R & R.
On the other hand, there is something to be said for getting the hell out of bed and out into the world.
Final tangentially connected note: I bought my first pair of sweat pants this past winter. The whole world is doing errands in their goddamned pajamas and I didn’t discover that sweat pants are goddamned comfortable until I was 67.
I’m a slow learner when it comes to self-care, but I’m trying to prioritize sleep and comfort. Letting go of sleep is a waste of time thinking is a radical, but life-saving concept. Thoughts?
Looking for other writers who know something about self-care?
Nan Tepper at The Next Write Thing
Kelly aka Broadway Baby To at The Disabled Ginger
Prajna O’Hara at The Salty Crone
Eileen Dougharty at You’re Right I do Look Tired
Stephanie Land at The Privilege to Feel
Kelly Thompson at There’s Nothing Wrong with You, There Never Was
Jenny Lawson at Let’s Art Together
Karen Weasley at I Write the Hard Things
Leslie Miller at Fuquinay
PS - If you found this post helpful, please consider restacking it and sharing it with your people? This spreads the word & keeps me writing (all night long)
Well, honestly, this is only true since I got sober.
This is a link to my other ‘stack, The Dirtygirl Diaires -What I Did For Love, also known conversationally as “the lost years.” There’s a sale on over there right now, until March 20, in honor of my 13th post there. 50% off annual subscriptions—a full year of stories about Times Square, sex work, how I got there and how I got out, plus a smoking soundtrack, every Friday. It’s what I had to go through, to be who I am today.
It’s a quick and easy read, with bullet points if you’re interested in what sleep does and doesn’t do.
Apologies to Dr. Seuss, wherever you are.
Jodi! I would imagine that there's a level of hypervigilance built in for you, caring for your Mom? Just wondering. Sleep is one of my favorite activities. It's been harder for me for many years, thanks to medication side effects, but I'm finding solutions (like being busier and blessed pot gummies). The first thing I say EVERY night when I get into my delicious bed is, wait for it, "I love my bed!" SO original. Thanks for the mention in the post, cannot wait to see you. I feel like we've really grown our connection over the past year. I'm so grateful for your wisdom, introspection, and friendship! Hug you soon. I know, you're not a hugger-just a little one, okay? xo
Sleep is such a pleasure and so important. I know my mental health is about to take a wild turn if insomnia creeps in, or if I have too many nights of waking up and not being able to go back to sleep, or if I am hunting and gathering (shopping) online past 10pm. That said, I rarely sleep more than 6 hours a night and typically it is closer to 5- 5 and 1/2. I will fall asleep at the cinema and have fallen asleep at work on slow days, with my chin in my hand. Sometimes I feel tired but it is typically a mental or emotional energy deficit when that happens. I do not use an alarm, my bladder does the job. Just in case you wanted to compare data, there's mine :-)