Once again, this post was written as part of The Great Cake Experiment.
I look forward to the day I can write a weekly without prompting. In the meantime, why not have a read, and marvel at the talent of my fellow writers there?
Looking for some inspiration for this week’s topic, and not trying too hard to think outside the box, I took the obvious route and googled the phrase “Wake Up” (including Boolean operators – do people still use those?).
That course of action resulted in this song circulating in my head for a few hours afterwards, which I didn’t much mind. I found this, which amused me greatly (but then there’s no accounting for my sense of humour). I also found this (Oh, the hilarity.) What struck me the most, though, was the proliferation of sites offering advice on “How To Wake Up Early”, “How To Wake up On Time” and “How To Wake Up Feeling Alert!” (“Alert” in my book = “Annoyingly Sprightly”.) All of which got me pondering why it is that so many people need assistance in awakening in the mornings. It appears I’m not so unusual after all.
I can only speak for myself, but waking up in the morning requires supreme effort on my part. It’s not that I’m lazy (Okay, maybe it’s that I’m lazy). I never sleep as much as I should. In fact, I’m almost permanently sleep deprived, and sometimes spend entire days in a state of dazed tiredness. But here’s the thing. I have no-one to blame but me. It’s entirely my own fault, because, well, I hate going to sleep.
This is a confession that few understand, and most greet with incredulous horror. Admitting such a thing usually elicits the same reaction as the one I garner when I’m spotted adding hot water to the milk in my Rice Krispies (I’m sick of having to explain why I do this, so I’m not explaining it here). Or, the response I received when I once admitted I’d never seen the Shawshank Redemption, a crime which, judging by the reaction I received to the admission is clearly on a par with eating one’s first-born child. The majority of folk are sensible, and enjoy winding down for the evening and curling up or cuddling up in bed at what my folks would call “a decent hour”. My genes took a wrong turn somewhere along the way, because my mum rarely stays up past 10pm. She, like most sane-minded people values a good night’s sleep.
Me … I’m different. I love the night. As the day wears on and most people fade, I slowly come to life. When others are fading, I’m starting to shine. It’s for this reason that I start work late and finish late. I’m at my most productive when most folk are comatose. It’s a pattern that’s continued throughout my life – school, university (cramming is king) and unfortunately, my work life. I sometimes wonder if I’m a distant cousin, twice removed of the old Count D.
I’m not sure why I dislike succumbing to sleep so much. Every night is a battle to stay awake, rather than go to sleep. Regrettably, when I really need to sleep, I never can. Oh, the irony! Recently, when I have had occasion to want to sleep, in order to not think any more, I find it eludes me – a shadow, escaping around the next corner, leaving only a trace of its presence as I chase. Ordinarily though, I love the solitude that comes with being awake whilst the world sleeps around me. I love the quietness in the country, and I adore the city at night. I feed off the energy; the lights, and the characters that only emerge after dark, the fellow nocturnal animals. Sometimes I take the car and drive high up the mountains when everyone I live with sleeps, and sit and gaze over the vista I have all to myself.
Oddly, I also adore greeting the sunrise… but only if I’m still awake. There’s nothing I relish more after a night of debauchery than wandering around the garden, preferably in my bare feet in the dewy grass, at 6am on a sunny summer’s morning, listening to the birdsong. Oddly enough, I never partake of this simple pleasure if I have to set an alarm and wake up to avail of it.
Not sleeping has its drawbacks. Tiredness, I am told results in lower productivity and motivation levels, impairment of ability, and hormone imbalances that can lead to weight gain/loss, amongst others. Personally, I find that if I don’t dream enough, I feel stressed – I think dreaming is the brain’s way of processing and organising the things that happen us during waking hours (even if my dreams do so in the oddest way possible, but I digress). Lack of sleep can also contribute to poor skin, slower healing, and an overall sense of malaise.
So, no matter how much I love the night and reject sleep’s courting, as I get older, and need all the help I can get to stay healthy and sane(ish), I feel it’s probably in my best interests to stop viewing sleep as the enemy, take it by the hand into a quiet corner and get to know it a little better. My health of mind and body will thank me more, and the day will come… one day… when waking up will actually become a pleasure.