I was the best sleeper in my family. I could sleep through anything. The neighbor’s lawn mower, dogs barking, my father’s pacing at 4 am as he drank a pot of coffee. On the other hand, if you tiptoed into the bedroom when my sister was sleeping, she would immediately sit up in bed asking, ‘What, what?!” Her eyes wide as saucers.

My mother developed insomnia later in life, so the doctor prescribed sleeping pills. Sleepwalking one night on the powerful hypnotic, she unconsciously took more and overdosed. She spent two weeks in the hospital in a coma. Once she woke up, she had hallucinations for days and swore off medication forever. The insomnia continued. She passed away at sixty-seven from a heart attack, I believe from years of not sleeping.  

In 2019, I contracted fungal meningitis during a yoga retreat in the jungles of Sri Lanka and spent nearly two months in the hospital. I started to have sleep issues for the first time in my life. Perhaps from being awakened constantly by nurses taking blood and checking vitals, being in persistent pain, or the hospital lights and hustle and bustle. It might have been from the prednisone prescribed for an immune system disorder caused by the meningitis. Maybe it was anxiety and PTSD from almost dying.

Whatever it was, I had become one of the midnight ramblers. I used herbal teas and tinctures, homeopathic remedies, melatonin, meditation, yoga, breathing and Tylenol PM. Once, I tried CBD sleep gummies. The budtender at the cannabis dispensary told me they had minimal THC, but when the gummy kicked in, I was high as a kite, watching the ceiling fan go round and round above my bed for hours. The more anxious I got about not sleeping, the less I could settle down to sleep. So, I decided to just go with it. I finally understood what it is like for people with insomnia. Bless our hearts.

My sleep is finally back to normal, thank goodness. If I do have an occasional sleepless night, I get out of bed. Read a book, preferable a boring one. Have a cup of herbal tea and listen to the crickets. If it is a clear night, I wrap a throw around my shoulders and walk outside. Taking a deep breath, I look up at the stars and think fondly about the little girl who could sleep through anything.