s l e e p p p p p

UPDATE: boy, oh boy, did I sleep! :)

Sleeping is my favorite, while largely unsuccessful, activity. I love to sleep! Love my rich, wild dream life, one minute wandering the fjords in Norway, the next wondering how I found myself in one of my childhood homes. I love sleeping.

And I dread sleeping. Since I started this whole lupus thing, sleep is my frenemy: friend and enemy. I absolutely need to sleep, in order to heal. And can't sleep, because of joint pain or chest pain or a blinding headache or the neuropathy in my feet is torturing me or JUST as I'm drifting away, a fuzzy body jumps on top of me and it's all over.

I've spent most of the last 12 months struggling to sleep. I've pulled more all nighters than in college and high school combined. And I'm just sooooo freaking tired.

Sleep deprivation is pretty serious business. I can tell you about it, believe me. I realized two nights ago, wide awake at 4 am, that I'm going to have call my doctor for a prescription.

Now this takes a LOT for me to do. I really hate sleeping pills. My body fights it. I've found myself walking and trying to do things when under the influence (sort of sleep walking - it's weird ... and disturbing). But I'm at my wit's end. I need a regular sleep cycle.

And y'know, I'm at an age (sob) where I'm likely starting the descent to menopause, which often comes early for women with my health issues. I can't help but think that this is a factor.

Nevertheless, SLEEP. I took my ambien at 8pm. I'm ready to pass out. I think. I fear I'll toss and turn, which is the worst of all pits.

I'm a little envious of my kitties, who flop over and are comatose before their flop hits the pillow.

If I didn't have this little thing called a JOB to get to every morning, I'd be creating like mad all night long. But I do have that little thing, so getting some quality sleep and WAKING up is pretty crucial.

By the way, I've tried all the normal words of wisdom: no caffeine past noon, drink plenty of water, don't eat after 8pm, chamomile tea at bedtime. These all help, but they become irrelevant when the bone-grating pain begins. Which is really neat.

I hope you're all tucked away in your beds with visions of sugarplums dancing in your heads. I hope to see you in just a few - save a dance for me?