sleep – Page 3 – The View from a Drawbridge

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I worked the graveyard shift for 13 years. I don’t recommend it. Your whole life begins to revolve around the desperate pursuit of sleep, and you turn into one of those people who curse your neighbors for mowing the lawn. It’s not a good look.

When I think about how I used to cry as a child when I was told it was bedtime, it makes me laugh. Now I’m more apt to cry when I can’t sleep. I’d rather sleep than just about anything else these days. It doesn’t cost a thing, and you feel great afterwards. There are very few things in life that you can say those things about.

That being said, I’ve picked up quite a few sleeping tricks over the years. Some of them involve taking supplements or the like. Please know that I’m not a doctor, and I strongly urge you to consult one before adopting any of these methods. Everyone’s physiology is slightly different, and as the saying goes, your results may vary.

So, in no particular order, here are 21 tricks to help you sleep.

Exercise. Often I can’t sleep because I’m full of nervous energy. But I have noticed that I always sleep better on days when I’ve exercised. Even if all you do is take a 20 minute walk, you’ll reap many benefits, including a better night’s sleep.

Yoga. I’ve discovered that a simple gentle yoga routine makes me sleep like a baby.

Raise your legs. I have a friend who swears by this. She says it has something to do with the fact that your blood is pooling in the area around your stomach. Worth a try.

Meditation. Quiet your mind and your body will soon follow. At least that’s been my experience.

Relaxing sounds. You can find all sorts of free recordings on Youtube that are 8 to 12 hours long, and designed specifically to help you relax and/or sleep. Here’s my favorite at the moment: Rain in Woods + Tibetan Bowls.

Sex. This seems to work wonders for men in particular. (Ladies, you know exactly what I’m talking about.) But as a woman, I’ve also found that I have a much easier time falling to sleep if I’m smiling and feeling loved. Something to think about.

Get a Chillow. Sometimes I can’t sleep because it’s just too darned hot. After hearing me grumbling about this, a friend recommended that I get a Chillow, and since I trust her implicitly, I did. And these things work wonders! If your head is cool, the rest of you feels cool as well. They also are great for people who suffer from hot flashes. My friend recommends the Mini-Chillow, and urges you to get the name brand, not the cheap knock-offs, because they last longer, and you don’t really need a large one.

Breathe through your left nostril. This is a yoga trick. If you lie on your left side and hold your right nostril closed, it is amazingly relaxing. You have to try it to believe it.

The 4-7-8 breathing trick. While researching this blog entry, I kept coming across this trick. It seems that a lot of people swear by it. It’s a little too complicated to go into here, but click on the link. I’m going to try this next time I have trouble sleeping. I’m all for a non-medicinal method!

First sleep, second sleep. I’m lucky enough to have a relatively flexible sleep schedule, so of all the methods I mention, this one works best for me. I also happen to find it fascinating. A few years ago I came across several articles such as this one. It seems that historians kept encountering mentions of first sleep and second sleep as recently as the 1700’s. They came to realize that cramming all your sleep into a single 8 hour period is an artificial construct that came about with electric lighting. Once we were able to illuminate more of the day, we started stuffing more activities into it, and giving ourselves ever-shortening windows of opportunity to sleep. Before that, people naturally slept for a period of time, say 4 to six hours, then got up when their bodies told them to, and talked or made love or did light activities for an hour or so. Then they went back to sleep for a couple hours. Ever since I’ve started doing this, I’ve felt a lot more rested in the morning. It’s tragic that the lives most of us currently live do not allow for this adjustment.

Lavender. I don’t know what it is about this smell, but it knocks me out. You can get it in many forms. You can have it in a pillow, or shampoo your hair with it, use it as a lotion or a body spray… whatever works best for you.

Hot Bath. If I’m feeling agitated, a hot bath often calms me down. Sending the message to your body that you deserve pampering never hurts. And if you get some Epsom salts that are infused with lavender, well, that is like a one-two punch.

Warm Milk. Oddly, this has never worked well for me, but I know people who have had great success with it.

Audio Books. When I told a friend of mine that I was writing this blog entry, she told me a trick that she uses. She often can’t sleep because she can’t stop thinking, so recently she decided she needed to distract herself. She began listening to audio books at bedtime. She says it also works when she wakes in the middle of the night and can’t get back to sleep. Currently she recommends Twain & Stanley Enter Paradise by Oscar Hihuelos.

Stare at a fixed point. Keep staring at it. Don’t let yourself look at anything else. This is a form of self-hypnosis. If you can do this for any length of time and NOT fall asleep, you are a robot.

Write stuff down. Often, I can’t sleep because my brain keeps going over things I’m upset about, or things I’m afraid I’ll forget. When that happens I’ve found that if I write those things down and then tell myself I’ll revisit them in the morning, I sort of give myself permission to “clock out” for the night.

Tryptophan. It’s not just in turkey, and not just for Thanksgiving. Your body requires it, and it’s found in a wide variety of food, including many nuts (and peanut butter), poultry, cheese, red meats, and on and on. And you can also get it in pill form, although I’ve never tried it.

Melatonin. You can get this in the vitamin section of your pharmacy. I use it as a last resort because while it does put me to sleep, it also gives me really strange dreams, and I wake up feeling kind of groggy.

Vitamin D. Now that I’m in the cloudy Pacific Northwest, my doctor discovered that I was not getting sufficient Vitamin D, so she had me start taking a supplement. She recommended that I take it at bedtime, though, because it can make you sleepy. I’m all for killing two birds with one stone.

Marijuana. Okay, first of all, I’m only recommending this in places where it’s legal. Second, it should only be done in moderation, because it can impact your life and your job prospects and your brain chemistry in unpredictable ways. Personally, pot practically sends me into a coma. But it also throws me into a deep dark depression, so it’s not something I want in my life. But if I could get to sleep no other way, I might resort to this now and again.

Yarrow Root. Again, I’ve never tried this, but I have a friend who swears by it.

So there you have it, the results of my years of pursuing the elusive Sandman. May you have sweet dreams and restful nights. And if you have any other tricks, please share them in the comment section!

time-to-sleep

Dreaming of Whales Dreaming

I have long been fascinated by that narrow borderland between consciousness and unconsciousness. It’s a surreal place indeed. The creativity there is something I could never duplicate in the waking world.

Whenever I’m roused just as I try to make my way toward REM sleep, invariably the image that’s in my head at that moment is as surreal as a Salvador Dalí painting. Things defy gravity. They do not behave as one would normally expect. One time a ringing phone woke me up and caused the image in my head to pop like a soap bubble. That was disconcerting.

The archway to dreamland is an uncanny place where I wouldn’t feel comfortable if I lingered too long. The waking me prefers it when things follow the rules of physics. I like being able to predict outcomes. And if I’m honest, that border region feels slightly ominous. Like the old maps used to say, “Here there be dragons.”

One time, back when I was a freelance closed-captioner, I was desperately sleep deprived but trying to meet a deadline. One minute I was watching the movie and typing in the text across the bottom, and the next minute I was drifting. When my head bobbed down it woke me up.

When I looked at the screen, I noticed that I had typed, “Dreaming of whales dreaming.” This had nothing to do with the medical documentary that I had been captioning, but it had everything to do with the world I pass through every time I go to sleep.

Salvador-Dali-The-Persistence-of-Memory-1931 — Persistence of Memory by Salvador Dalí

The Pajama Radius

At the monthly storytelling event that I attend I was introduced to a unit of measure that I didn’t know existed up to this point. It’s called the Pajama Radius. Basically, it’s how far you’re willing to go in your pajamas.

I immediately rushed home and Googled it. Much to my amusement, it is, indeed, a thing. It’s gotten quite a bit of discussion on line, particularly in blogs, so I’ll just be adding to the overall murmur, but I had to write about it because for some reason it just makes me happy that someone has come up with this concept.

I’m guessing that the average pajama radius extends out to one’s mailbox, or at least to the sidewalk to pick up the morning paper. (Remember those?) Heaven knows my neighbors have seen my jammies.

There isn’t much to see. In the winter I usually wear sweat pants and a sweatshirt. People who see me probably think I’m about to go out for a jog. (Ha! How little they know me.)

But I will posit the theory that if your Pajama Radius begins to increase and you find yourself going to the convenience store down the street, the grocery store a few blocks away, or dropping the kids off at school in your footie pajamas with the trap door in the back, then you might want to seriously contemplate your level of depression or your level of laziness.

But there’s something else to contemplate here. Why does anyone care? Why are pajamas supposed to be hidden from view? If I’m wearing a flannel ensemble with pink bunnies all over it, I’m still covered. My taste might be questionable, but my dignity should remain intact, more or less. And yet, it seems to be a point of shame or scandal.

I suppose it’s because pajamas in public are a symbol that you’ve given up. You’ve stopped caring. By not bothering to put on your “outside clothes”, you’re admitting to a lack of energy that society has decided is below the norm.

Am I the only one who sees how silly and arbitrary this is? Maybe that’s because I don’t sleep in anything that could even remotely be considered lingerie, and haven’t felt the need for a bathrobe in decades. I better watch out. I may be perched at the top of a slippery slope.

6818723276538m — [Image credit: buybuybaby.com]

I’m Wide Awake, Here!

I recently had a blind date with a guy, and when he discovered I was a bridgetender, he got this smirk on his face. I knew what was coming next. The stereotype.

Few people even know we exist, but those who do seem to assume that we all sleep through our shifts. This assumption drives me absolutely insane. Obviously I can’t speak for every bridgetender on the face of the earth, but I can say that I take pride in the fact that I have never slept on duty. Not once. (Besides, I have a blog to write!)

I can honestly say that in my 14 years of opening drawbridges, I’ve met more operators who take their job seriously than those who blow it off as an easy paycheck. We have people’s lives in our hands. Google “Death” and “Drawbridges” if you don’t believe me. It’s not a job for someone who does not feel that acute responsibility.

A lot of boaters think that we are asleep because they don’t know the proper way to communicate with us. If you float up to a bridge and just sit there, we can’t read your mind. We’re not going to back up traffic for miles just in case you might want an opening. Too many boats approach bridges just to have a look and then turn around and go away for us to do that.

If you want an opening from a drawbridge, read your Coastguard Local Notice to Mariners to determine the proper horn signal for that particular bridge. And get a decent horn, for heaven’s sake. If your horn sounds like the meep meep of the roadrunner cartoon, chances are we won’t hear you over the traffic.

Also, if you contact us by radio, make sure you’re on the right channel. And then turn up your volume. That’s a typical scenario. Someone contacts us, but then can’t hear our response. I once had a guy in Florida call me 4 times. I responded each time, but he couldn’t hear me because his volume was down. The 4^th time he said, “WAKE UP!!!” As I opened the bridge for him, I shouted for him to turn up the volume on his radio. He did. Then I got on the radio and said to him, for everyone to hear, “For your information, I responded to you 4 times. I don’t sleep. I have never slept. Thanks so much for your respect and cooperation.”

So when Mr. Blind Date Guy started to tell me a story about a sleeping bridgetender, I knew he wouldn’t be asking me out again. And he didn’t. And I was glad.

09012015-drawbridge01 — Fremont Bridge, Seattle. One of the 9 bridges I’ve operated in my career. (Ellen M. Banner / The Seattle Times)

My Morning

Last night I got off work at 11pm. I went straight home, and managed to squeeze in 5 hours of sleep before getting up at 5:45am in order to go back to work at 7am. Oh, but there’s more.

I get out to my car, and all the windows are frosted over. It’s 32 degrees out. So I scrape them. But the INSIDE of the windows are frosted as well. So I scrape those, too. Did I mention I have no heat or defrost in my car?

So I drive down the road, freezing my patooties off, peering through a porthole-sized patch of window that is constantly fogging over, wiping it down every 30 seconds and hoping that no one steps out in front of my car. By the way, it’s still pitch black out. The sun doesn’t rise here until 7:20am at this time of year.

I get to work and thaw out for a brief shining moment, and then head back out into the raw, foggy blackness to meet one of those arbitrary deadlines that I spoke of the other day. The sidewalks and bike lanes on the bridge need to be swept. It’s been raining for weeks, so I spend an hour hauling about 30 pounds of wet leaves, mud, and soggy cigarette butts off the bridge. The sweat is freezing against my throbbing back. (And can someone please explain to me why smokers think it’s okay to just throw their butts anywhere they happen to be? It’s disgusting.)

As I toiled, a guy came by on his bike and shouted, “Great job!” It’s nice to be appreciated. By someone. Believe it or not, though, I do love my job. Just not this morning.

Finally I got back inside, and while waiting for the snot to thaw so I can wipe it off my face without tearing the skin, I read the news on the internet. “Twenty-seven Dead as Gunmen take Hostages at Mali Hotel”

I really have absolutely nothing to complain about. Nothing at all. Perspective.

cinderella-scrubbing

Dog-mares

All dog owners have most likely seen their beloved pet’s little paws “running” while they snooze. Or maybe they’ve even heard a muted “woof” while Rover was deep in the clutches of REM sleep. It’s kind of cute.

But the other night something scary happened. My dog, Devo, who had been napping contentedly at my side, suddenly bolted out of bed, hit the wall, knocked over a book case, ran along the edge of the room, then hurtled down the stairs, across the living room, and into the kitchen, where he collapsed into a shaking heap.

I sat down on the kitchen floor, scooped him up, and held him close. He looked at me as if he had absolutely no idea where he was or what was going on. I’ve never seen him so terrified. It was a helpless feeling.

Finally, I was able to coax him back to bed, where he fell right back to sleep. I, on the other hand, was up for hours. Such was my level of agitation.

That must have been some nightmare. What are dogs’ nightmares like? I shudder to think. Giant cats? Packs of wolves? Kibble shortages? Being abandoned or abused?

All I know is that on this night, as with all nights, I kept him close. I tried to make him feel safe. I gave him as much comfort as I possibly could.

After all, that’s what he does for me, every single day.

Migraine Awareness

June is Migraine Awareness Month. As a lifelong sufferer myself, I know what it’s like to deal with people’s many misconceptions about this malady. The lack of understanding and the crazy ideas about migraines can be nearly as painful as the headache.

The first, most frustrating fallacy about migraines is that “It’s all in your head.” If I had a dollar for every time someone said that to me, I’d be a millionaire right now. Just because a migraine can’t be seen does not mean it doesn’t exist. Why would anyone make up this level of agony?

Here’s a description that my cousin posted on her Facebook page today:

What is it like having a migraine? You lay down to sleep because sleep is the only real thing that is pain free. Only, you can’t sleep. Noise is making the pain worse. Every position you lay in is excruciating. With a pillow. Without a pillow. Side, back, face jammed into the mattress. Doesn’t matter. The throbbing won’t stop. Too hot. Too cold. Shut up, gecko! Don’t you know I’m dying here and your seemingly adorable chirp is like a shrill screwdriver scraping down a blackboard?! Shoulders are so tight from the stress of the pain. Jaw is so tight from grinding my teeth in pain. Every time I close my eyes I think the aura might go away but it’s still there. Twinkling away. Just one spot though. Enough to be annoying. 6am. Still awake. 8am still awake. I just want some rest. 9am finally found a comfortable way to lay however I have ruined my entire day. Migraine, you are not the life partner I imagined. I’ve broken up with you so many times. I just don’t want to see you ever again. We’re through! Sleep. So lovely and pain free. Only to awake and feel migraine waiting for me. I hate you. Don’t you know that you ruin my relationship with others? I wish you’d never come back. You make my life hell.

Clearly this is not a figment of her imagination. Nor are all the pictures of me from childhood with dark circles under my eyes from days of vomiting and lack of sleep a mere mirage. Unlike my cousin, I don’t have the sensitivity to sound, and for that I thank God. But my sensitivity to light means that even the smallest amount of illumination feels like a dagger in my eyeball. When I was too little to have the vocabulary to describe it, I used to say I had a bullet in my eye. We called them “eye aches” back then.

Another mistaken belief about migraines is the implication that since it is “all in your head” it must be some form of mental illness. Yes, people do think that. Don’t believe me? Rent the movie “Dark Water” sometime. At the very least people assume that you “do this” to get attention. That always makes me laugh, because when you have a migraine, the very last thing you want is attention. You want to be left alone in a dark, quiet room. If anything, it takes you away from the people you love, and you miss out on a lot.

I’ve also been accused of conjuring up a migraine to get out of work or to avoid eating certain foods that I “must not like.” Like what? Chocolate? Oh yeah. I hate chocolate. Not. I’d kill to be able to eat chocolate without the accompanying pain.

If you don’t get migraines you are very fortunate. A great thing to do with that good fortune would be to have a little tolerance and compassion for those of us who do suffer. Or, at the very least, you could keep your erroneous beliefs to yourself.

Start a gratitude practice today. Read my book. http://amzn.to/2cCHgUu

And I’ll be proud of myself. Because I did it. I made it. And with any luck, I’ll never have to freakin’ move again.

And I’ll probably order pizza delivery, eat it while taking a bath in my nice big tub, and give Quagmire a few extra treats. Because I can. And because God knows we’ll have earned them.

Happy unbirthday to me!

Celebrate my unbirthday with me by buying my book! http://amzn.to/2mlPVh5

So, there’s actually a person making the bridge open and close?

Don’t you get bored? What do you do between bridge openings? Don’t you go stir crazy? Do you sleep a lot?

How do you know when someone needs an opening?

Is the bridge manned 24 hours a day? How many hours a day do you work?

How much money do you make?

How do you get a job as a bridgetender? Do you need special training?

How often do you open the bridge?

What’s the hardest part of your job?

Witnessing suicide attempts. And it happens more often than you might think.

Why is there such a long delay between the time the bridge closes and the time the traffic gates go up to let cars through again?

If you have any other questions, feel free to ask them in the comments section below!