I have problems sleeping and I’ve written about it before. It is one of the most irritating feelings in the world lying awake at night knowing you have to get up in five hours and being unable to sleep. It must be similar to what Lindsay Lohan feels like when her drug dealer dies and she has to find a new one – grumpy and restless. However, I thought that I’d gotten over my problem. I thought that maybe I found the right combination of activities and habits to make bedtime something I looked forward to rather than something I actively dread.

I’m more like a toddler when faced with the prospect of going to bed now: “I DON’T WANT TO. YOU CAN’T MAKE ME. NO. NOPE. NO. I’M GUNNA STAY UP FOREVER.”

Yesterday, I took all my normal precautions to avoid insomnia: I exercised for an hour, I sat outside in the sun for a while, I read before turning off the light, and I took one of my mom’s herbal remedies for sleeplessness (it also gives me magical powers).

It was all for naught.

The first problem occurred when my fan malfunctioned. I cannot sleep without background noise. My preferred background noise is provided by a tower fan. It’s just loud enough to block out any weird creaking my house makes at night but soft enough to allow me to sleep. But, it has developed a very high-pitched, intermittent squeak. I tried to ignore it but it was too much.

I got out of bed and turned off the fan. The deafening silence that ensued was better than the squeak but then the silence gave way to dogs barking, cats meowing, various forest creatures walking in the yard, birds tweeting, the house creaking and settling, and the wind rustling the plants and trees outside.

This symphony of the night was not conducive to sleep. Exacerbating the problem was my paranoia that every unexplained sound was an ax murderer who was outside of my window, peering in, waiting for his chance to strike. I started to get anxious thinking about all the different ways a person could break into my house and kill me. I would literally jump and have a mini heart attack each time something resembling a sound occurred.

Eventually, the sounds dissipated. Ah, problem solved. BUT NO. PLOT TWIST. The silence that occurred thereafter made my ears ring. I started listening to my own breathing and thinking about horrible things that happen in very quiet moments in horror films. Oh, great. Yeah, I’m definitely not sleeping ever again. 

Eventually, I got tired enough that the silence was almost soothing and I felt the sweet relief of sleep come over me like a warm blanket on a cold winter’s night or a nutella crepe.  Unfortunately, a piercing beep occurred at the moment just before unconsciousness. The smoke alarm had chosen that moment to say, “BATTERY’S DEAD, FOLKS!!! LET ME PLAY YOU THE SONG OF MY PEOPLE.”

It was incredibly loud and beeped every thirty seconds. The predictability was insanity-inducing. I would have a build-up of anxiety as I waited for the beep and then a small release of tension when the horrible noise filled my ears and echoed in my cerebellum.

My mom got up at one point and I thought it was because of the smoke alarm. But it was just because the dog needed to go outside. She  walked into the hallway where I was under the impression she would attempt to dismantle the alarm but instead, she walked into her bedroom – clearly intent on making me suffer through my insomnia-induced madness.

I crept into the living room and shut the door. It blocked out the assaulting noise of the smoke alarm. The Mama Cat, who normally hates me and ESPECIALLY hates when I wear fuzzy socks, followed me out and kept me company as I finally, FINALLY fell asleep on the couch.

 Where I slept until noon. Naturally.

– Daughter