Insomnia

The noise of people returning home drifts in through the closed windows and drawn curtains; the slam of a car door, the murmur of a TV, a radio, or voices from the surrounding flats until, as darkness falls, those voices can be heard calling loved pets back indoors for the night.

With darkness, the only sound is that of the trains passing by, changing from toots to alert the idiots playing chicken on the uncontrolled crossing to simply the whine of a diesel engine as it passes by.

At almost the midnight hour comes the final whine till the morning. From then on, the only sounds will be those of foxes procreating and nocturnal cats fighting over territory.

One joy of living in a cul-de-sac backing onto fields is that it’s rarely loud, indeed it can get really quiet at night. But when you can’t sleep and the night stretches out ahead of you, it starts to feel decidedly lonely – so the reliable regularity of that diesel whine becomes surprisingly welcome.

To fill the gap between midnight and when sounds of life return once more with the morning, it’s become my habit to get out of bed. Something about overhead lights feel too harsh now, so it’s just the lamps and the kitchen downlighter I reach for to switch on.

Some nights I’ll boil the kettle, but tonight it’s a pan of milk put on the hob to warm. Taking a milky hot chocolate to the sofa, I assemble everything for the next few hours. Tonight it’s the basics – a blanket for my lap and a cosy wrap for my neck and shoulders. On colder nights I exchange my slippers for furry socks, and on bitingly cold nights, I add an old woollen cardigan which belonged to be my father’s – partly for the warmth, but also as it made me feel held and safe.

Next, as part of generating that feeling of being held and safe, I’ll refill my diffuser with water, before adding a few drops of whatever oils my nose tell me are right for me tonight.

Having tried most the suggested sleep inducing snacks, a banana has proven the only one which doesn’t sit uncomfortably on my chest… so one will get peeled and eaten while my drink cools enough for me not to burn my mouth. For yes, I’ve done that before, only to spend the rest of the night fussing over the state of my burned tongue. I suppose you could say it gave me something to occupy my mind, but come on… that’s scratching the bottom of the finding the positives barrel.

For sleepless nights have become my regular bed fellows. Meditation, sleep stories, audible books instead of reading, warm baths with relaxing oils, I’ve even fiddled with the temperature of my bedroom and experimented with different bed linens…. all to no avail. Whatever it is that’s going on in my mind has not let itself be known to me. But it will… of that I am certain.

In the past, reading in bed was guaranteed to do the trick, and I’d regularly get hit in the face as I lost the grip on my kindle, or wake up with a book clutched to my chest. But not anymore. Now I can read an entire book without the slightest eyelid droop. I’ve tried every genre of book I can think of, but there’s no apparent difference, so now I read whatever I want to, ‘cos at least that way I get to spend the long hours doing something I enjoy.

Eventually, I’ll hear the sound of the early workers departing quietly, but I’ll wait until the return of the trains as morning service commences. I don’t start going about my day until I hear the 6am whine of the diesel. Then it’s shower, breakfast and get dressed – I am functioning, if not at the top of my game – but it’ll still be time to leave for another working day.

© Debs Carey, 2024