This was published 1 year ago
Opinion
A remedy to stop me lying awake? Let me sleep on it
Amelia Lester
ColumnistSleep is like style, or befriending a cat: the more you try to get it, the more elusive it becomes. Recently, I became ensconced in one of those terrible insomnia spirals, the kind many of us descended into during lockdown when there was altogether too much time to think.
Establishing a ritual is important for getting a good night’s sleep.Credit: Getty Images
The setting sun became a source of dread. When I switched off the TV and prepared to retire for the night, I’d harbour a sense of resignation, even futility. Insomnia can seem akin to a competitive sport and, after a lifetime of sound sleep, I was suddenly very much in the running.
I was used to nodding off almost instantly after putting on a long interview-style podcast: The Ezra Klein Show, Fresh Air, Conversations. Anything with a reassuring host and easy banter, really. But while the falling asleep still came relatively easily, what was newly difficult was returning to the Land of Nod at, say, 2am.
During a few interrupted nights – filled with fury at no one in particular – I decided to start my day at that ungodly hour. Brew a cup of tea; read every bit of the overnight news; fire off some work emails with intimidating time stamps. Now it’s 3.30am and there are still three hours to kill before the rest of the world rises from slumber. “That’ll show me,” was the attitude. It was perverse.
Insomnia can seem akin to a competitive sport and, after a lifetime of sound sleep, I was suddenly very much in the running.
So began a journey through various sleep remedies. Counting sheep was as dull as the latest season of The Crown, which is really saying something. A meditation app that promised instant relaxation was nothing but a gateway to doom-scrolling. And audio books left me on the edge of my bed, desperate to know what happened next.
A tincture of CBD, which is derived from the cannabis plant but is not psychoactive, did nothing but leave me with a hole in my pocket and an oddly vegetal aftertaste. Lavender sleep spray and copper-infused sleep masks were equally ineffective. One desperate early morning, I even grabbed some of my son’s chewy melatonin. Although I wouldn’t have felt confident operating heavy machinery afterwards, I also didn’t feel sleepy.
Everything I read on the topic of sleeplessness emphasised the importance of “sleep hygiene”. Key tenets were no screens before bedtime; reading before lights out; safe exposure to sunlight during the day; and limiting coffee and alcohol.
It was also important, a GP told me, to establish a sleep ritual. I thought immediately of my children’s and, somewhat scornfully, imagined myself wrapped, serenaded and read to in a darkened room at exactly the same time every night. Then I realised that this was precisely what I needed to do.
Draped in a weighted blanket before 10pm, with soft music on the record player and a physical book in hand, I felt my eyelids suddenly heavy. When I woke in the middle of the night for no apparent reason, I enacted the same ceremony. It didn’t work instantly, but it did beat tossing and turning about the fate of the Amazon rainforest. Apparently, some experts define insomnia as a “preoccupation with sleep”. I’m pleased to say that it no longer dominates my thoughts – at least for now.
Before we go on hiatus, I’d like to wish you a very merry Christmas. Thank you for reading this year, and may you enjoy a holiday season of good cheer and better sleep.
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