Notes of an insomniac mother

Up, over and out

2011-01-15T02:29:00.000-08:00

Wishing you all a very happy (though belated) new year!

Although the very start of 2011 got off to a somewhat dramatic start (staying with friends on New Years's Eve, we overdid the raw garlic in the Baba Ganoush which then passed through my milk to Benjamin who proceeded to be violently sick through the night!), I'm pleased to report that since then, things have been good. Actually, they've been better than good, they've been great. For a start, I've been sleeping for a couple of months now (don't know why, don't care, just want to enjoy it). I also took a mini-break to Bordeaux last week with Benjamin to visit some wonderful friends I lived with in Spain in 2002 and hadn't seen in a long time. Although the nights were very disturbed (Benjo's definitely a home boy!), I cannot express how good it was to be there, exploring a new place with old friends. This Spanish word doesn't translate too well, but the best word to describe my few days in Bordeaux was 'fuerte', roughly meaning intense. Suffice it to say that it was a small injection of spice and adventure into my veins and I needed that.

I've felt over the past couple of months something shifting inside me. Is it a delayed reaction to the mindfulness techniques I learnt with Guy Meadows at the Insomnia Clinic, which I continue to practice? I'd like to add that I'm not naive enough to think that just because I'm going through a good period, my insomnia will not return. Nor do I think that it necessarily will either. I know that the spectre of my insomnia will sit on my shoulder for many years to come, whether imagined or realised. But when I said that something is shifting inside me, what I mean is that I'm reclaiming a part of myself that has never left, but has been deeply buried for some time, and that is firstly, that I am a social being (honestly, I've forgotten this far too frequently!) and secondly, I have the opportunity to be creative.

I've started seeing a psychosynthesis counsellor (more of that later) and she asked me during my first session what two of the most important things in my life are. I didn't have to think for too long...I said my family, and what I mentioned before: the opportunity to be creative. And by this I mean that I need to indulge in what drives me, and that is to write. My Women's Writing Wheel project, although far from perfect or completed (I'm currently testing it out with 10 guinea pigs), was in my head for a long time before it metamorphosed onto the screen, and to now see it up there, and to see stories appear before my eyes, is incredibly exciting for me. I feel like a teenager, besotted with a first boyfriend who wants to sneak constant glances at her mobile phone to see if any texts have come in: this is me, stealing moments on the laptop to see if any new stories have come in. Take a sneaky peak here to have a look at Women's Writing Wheel. The associated blog I've also started, Mother Writes, is generally all geeky stuff to do with creative writing and books but if you're interested in seeing it, please let me know and I can send an invitation for you to view it.

Back to the psychosynthesis...I'd never heard of this form of counselling before it was recommended by some friends. Essentially, it deals with harmonising all elements of our personalities and psyche through greater self-knowledge. Many methods are used including creative visualisation, free drawing, writing and meditation - so basically, my kind of thing. At the moment, we're doing some guided meditation and visualisation exercises, not to dig out and expel my insomnia (I'm done with that), but to gently explore my sub-personalities and sit beside the part of me that can't sleep. Sometimes it feels a little strange to be going when I really am fine at the moment, but then I think that actually it's good to be seeking support from this place of positivity, rather than a place of angst and desperation, which I've visited many, many times over the past 5 years. I'm going to do six weeks with the counsellor and see how I feel after that.

As for new year's resolutions, both Andy and I have decided that we'll do yoga at least once a week. I'd love to do it every day but I need to be realistic and accept this is highly unlikely! It's been a long time I've really done yoga and I cannot adequately express how it makes me feel: I am opening upwards and outwards and finding a rhythm and flow from a place deep within me. It is utterly absorbing and liberating. I also love the ritual I create around yoga. The right smell (incense) and the right sound (there are many sounds that work for me, but right now, I'm in love with the Indian flute music of Ronu Majumdar.)

No doubt I will be back at some stage to report how me and my sleep are getting one, but for now at least, I've decided to stop writing this blog in order to concentrate on Women's Writing Wheel and my other blog. So I'm going to leave you with the beautiful sound of Ronu Majumdar. Click here to listen.

Lots of love and light to you all,
Rebecca
x

Thoughts written in the snow

2010-12-18T03:33:00.000-08:00

Andy returned from Madagascar this morning - landing, thankfully, before the weather closed in and it began to snow like it would never stop.

This past week has been truly exausting but truly amazing in that (for whatever reason) I have been sleeping. I have done all kinds of things I would not normally contemplate in sleep-deprived zone...like help out at Maya's end of term party, and bundle up the kids in the cold dark night to take them out to join the Father Christmas and carol singing parade, and go out for drinks with the parents' from Maya's class. Oh, to feel like a normal person.

The funny thing is that, each night when I get into bed, a little voice persists in whispering to me You might not sleep tonight, wouldn't that be awful? But somehow, this hasn't stopped me from sleeping, although I'd imagined it might. Is it something to do with the fact that I'm aware of this voice, rather than reacting to it? I know it's there, and probably will be for years to come, but I'm not trying to push this voice away, because I think that could send me into a panic. Honestly, I don't know if it is this, I'm just thinking (or writing!) out loud. This has been going on for long enough now for me to know that my insomnia could creep up on me again unawares anytime.

If it keeps snowing like this, perhaps we won't be able to leave the house till after Christmas, and we shall stay in our little house and I will eat and dream and sleep.

Taking what's offered

2010-12-11T12:37:00.000-08:00

'Acceptance does not mean putting up with or resigning yourself to anything. Acceptance is about embracing life, not merely tolerating it. Acceptance literally means "taking what is offered." It doesn't mean giving up or admitting defeat; it doesn't mean just gritting your teeth and bearing it. It means fully opening yourself to your present reality - acknowledging how it is, right here and now, and letting go of the struggle with life as it is in this moment.'

From 'The Happiness Trap' by Russ Harris.

I find it really difficult explaining to people why I don't want to 'try' more things in the attempt to cure my insomnia. I know it can come across as being defeatist, but I've never felt this to be the case and I think Russ Harris articulates the driving force of 'acceptance' pretty well.

For some unknown reason, I've slept pretty well this past week. Ok, so it may have helped having Andy back...and it may have helped that all three of my children are now chicken pox free...but it is, I know, most definitely not that simple. There have been nights when I am disturbed on the hour every hour by one of the kids but still manage to drop back off and thus feel sufficiently well rested in the morning and, on the flipside, long peaceful nights where I've not heard so much as a whisper of wind but can still lie there, quite literally all night long without dropping off.

This is where I am at. I don't get it. Perhaps I'll never get it, but what I do know is that it's easy to be lulled into a false sense of security after a decent week, that perhaps the bad times really aren't that bad and actually, I' m coping fine. But this is not the case - my insomnia continues to hover at my shoulder like a dark angel. So I've come to a big decision (at least, it feels like a big decision for me) and that is that in the new year I'm going to start having counselling so I can 'offload' on a weekly basis. But isn't this just adding to my long list of therapies and things I've 'tried' over the years to feel better? Well no, I don't believe it is. Because I'm not going in the hope or the belief that this will cure me of my insomnia; I'm going because I want to talk about how I'm coping (or not coping) with having to deal with insomnia in my life.

And now that I've made this decision, it really feels like the right one. I think I was very resistant to it for some time. Perhaps there was a part of me that felt that if I had acupuncture, or Chinese medicine, or homeopathy, or hypnotherapy (you name it, I've had it!) I was being pro-active, but by seeing a counsellor, I'd 'given up' in a way. But now I don't feel like that at all. I feel very positive and accepting of my decision. And in 'taking what is offered' in the form of insomnia, I refuse to fight it anymore. This is my pledge for 2011: to offer my insomnia to pull a chair up and take a seat beside me. Sound strange? Well, let's see what happens.

Distance

2010-12-02T02:56:00.000-08:00

I often seem to end up writing my blogs on thursdays. There is a good reason for this: little one #1 is at school, little one #2 is at toddler group with her granny and, right now, little one #3 is asleep, the worst of his chicken pox thankfully over. So I am sitting here alone at half past ten, still in my dressing gown, drinking my coffee and listening to Ayub Ogada whilst the snow drifts quietly past the window. It is very peaceful and ah, these moments are gold dust.

I've been all over the place this past week, what with Andy still away and an uncomfortable, itchy baby up in the night and his sisters' waking quite a bit too (cold feet / duvet fallen off / nightmares / runny noses). I keep missing deadlines for things Maya is meant to be giving in or doing at school and feeling a shudder of guilt about it. But I must remember - the little lady is only four years old, at the very start of her educational journey, and if she misses the odd drawing competition, it is OK.

Now, on another note, I have a confession to make: I own enough self-help books to sink a battleship. (I suppose part of the thinking in the past has been that, if this book does what it says on the tin, I'll only be spending £6.99 to help with my insomnia, rather than the huge amounts paid for various therapies). They claim they will make the reader more confident, more positive, or that within its pages lies the secret for chasing away childhood ghosts. Rather hilariously, none of them have worked. At least, not for me. So perhaps it's pure folly to be diving into another one, but I am. It's called 'The Happiness Trap' and is by a man called Russ Harris. I'm not going to go into it now, because I could be sitting here tippity-tap-typing away my gold dust moment....But he has some interesting things to say about these stories that go around in our heads that we call 'thoughts'.

Now I know I've talked about thoughts in the past and the hold they can have over us. Harris asks the reader to prefix negative thoughts that pop into your head with the words 'I'm having the thought that....' I've been really trying to make a go of this over the past few days, to see what happens. The idea, obviously, is to distance oneself from the thought so that ultimately, recurring negative thoughts can release their hold on you. It's been an interesting exercise and I can see that the same thoughts do come up again and again and again. For example, instead of simply allowing the thoughts 'I am a wreck' to plough through my head, it now reads as 'I'm having the thought that I'm a wreck.' If I keep doing this, I might just start allowing myself to believe this isn't necessarily the truth. And even if it is the truth, it's not a thought that helps me in any way.

The great thing is that after just a couple of days of doing this properly, I can already note a change. Yesterday, as I was walking to pick Maya up from school, I mused how awful I was feeling yet again. I then prefixed my thought with the necessary words and instantly felt better. It was bizarre. I even started chuckling, just because I knew that I had heard this story so, so many times before and it was all a bit silly (yes, I am that mad looking woman who walks through the park laughing to herself).

I'll keep you updated on how I get on with Mr Harris and his Happiness Trap and the madwoman's response to it ;)

Oh frabjous day

2010-11-25T05:45:00.000-08:00

Boy, was I down when I wrote that last blog. Though I imagine you noticed that. Things have been really been tough recently and I've felt pretty desperate at times. I'm pleased to report, however, that I feel better today and I can cast a little objectivity on all of this.

Sometimes, I know I'm not getting anywhere at with this. I'm not 'winning'. And okay, it's not a battle, but that's what it can feel like. But I'm battling against a faceless, shapeless foe. And that's a dislocating, isolating sensation. So I think that today, with this wonderful feeling of energy I have inside me, to ask myself what GOOD has come from my insomnia; what it has taught me and how it has helped me to grow. So, here goes.....

#1 CARPE DIEM

I am the queen of Carpe Diem (Seize the day). Years ago, as a teenager, I watched the movie Dead Poet's Society and first really heard that term and thought it was an amazing concept. But I never imagined how I would one day apply to it to my own life with such intensity. I really do see a world in a grain of sand. I create all kinds of mini-adventures for myself and my family for I am at heart, after all, an adventuress.

#2 RECEIVING

For years, I've loved doing voluntary work, whether it's teaching english, helping with disabled people or helping with a cause I perceive to be worthy. It's always been an important part of my existence. I'm not trying to sound all virtuous, it's just something I've found enjoyable and enriching over the years. But how does this relate to what I'm talking about? Because, now the shoe is on the other foot. I am the recipient of somebody giving freely of their time. Once a week, a lovely lady called Diana from Homestart charity, has started to come over for a couple of hours to help me out. And it really is brilliant. I never imagined this would happen to me at this point in my life, but I'm not too proud now to to admit that I'm struggling and need help. Admittedly it took a while to get used to this idea, but the point is that we never know what life is going to throw at us.

#3 EMOTIONS

We live in a society in which the messages we receive, right from the earliest age, is that it's not okay to be emotional. We have to keep a handle on our emotions. Children are told 'not to cry' or to 'be brave' or 'not to worry' etc etc. But subliminally what these messages are saying are 'Don't have emotions.' On top of that, we are British. Stiff upper lip and all that. Bollocks to all that, I think now. Suppressing emotions is, in the long term, hugely damaging. And now, as a mother, I want my children to be able to feel their emotions, to live them. I don't care if this sounds like wishy washy American crap.

I know I've been going on about this quite alot in my blog recently, but I really do feel that it's OK to feel low, it's OK to feel desperate and depressed at times and it's OK to cry, in fact it's necessary. This is called being human, experiencing a full range of human emotions. Where it's not OK is when this starts to impact on the wellbeing of my family, and admittedly there have been times I've questioned this (case in point: about a month ago I apologised to Maya for being grumpy all day, to which she replied: Is it because I do things wrong? This was not a good moment for me.) The good news however is that I feel like my children are in touch with their emotions. They see their mummy being sad and I gently explain to them why this is the case but that I will be just fine and it's not something they need to worry about. Children trust and although at times I feel horribly guilty about what I put my kids through as a result of my insomnia, if I'm being honest I know that they are happy, rounded and emotionally intelligent little lovelies.

The good thing is that now that I've started it, I know that this list could go on. But time prevents me from doing this. So let's just leave it here and say Oh frabjous day, calloo, callay (taken from one of my favourite poems, the Jabberwock). Oh, and Carpe Diem of course.

The colour of blue

2010-11-19T07:53:00.000-08:00

I have a folder of music called 'Tunes to dance the blues away', which I really need today, because today is the colour of blue. I am listening to a track called Twelth Street Rag by Pee Wee Hunt which is everything my mood is not. But that's why I need to listen to it. I'm sitting here at the table with Maya and Lily, and in between typing a few words I am helping Maya colour in a picture of a ballerina. I am struck, as I so often am, how amazing these girls are. I know all parents think their children are amazing, but we're allowed to, aren't we. I feel that they put up with so, so much from me and sometimes it breaks my heart.

The other day, Maya sensed I was low. I saw her looking at me and really thinking. And then she said something that blew me away. She said 'It's hard looking after three children on your own, isn't it?' I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. When did my four year old become such a wise little soul?

Today I just can't shake it off, this feeling of heavy-heartedness that has me in its grips. I feel like I'm scrabbling around, my arms flailing about, searching for even a small part of myself. But I can't find me anywhere. I feel like I despately miss my children and husband, because I'm not really with them. But what's the answer? Keep believing that I'm there somewhere. And keep being amazed and inspired by my children.

My pledge

2010-11-11T08:00:00.000-08:00

I received my blood test results and it turns out that I'm no longer deficient in Vitamin B12 - in fact, everything looks as healthy as can be in that department. I ought to be pleased, shouldn't I? But well....hmm...you know. Ah, if life could be so simple and a few vitamin injections could restore my sleep....

I also discussed today with the GP the possibility of post-natal depression causing insomnia as opposed to insomnia causing my mood swings (now I really feel like I'm airing my dirty laundry in public but hey, I suppose that started long ago anyway, when I began this blog) because this has come up a few times recently with a few people. Anyway, we discussed this at length (honestly, I've never come across a GP before who was so willing to just talk). I know it is just one opinion, but he felt confident that I am not suffering from PND. He said that the fact I am routinely fine and happy on days when I have slept well would work against this as PND sufferers would experience mood swings whether they have slept or not. But he did feel (as I often have done) that since I have been pregnant or breastfeeding for over five years, my hormones are probably all over the place and it's quite possible this could be affecting my sleep. That, combined with the fact I have, over the years, created poor sleep habits for myself which have built up over time. So, there you have it - my diagnosis. Isn't that what I always wanted?

So, what's the answer? Well, one answer is to jolly well not have any more children! It's insane - although Benjamin is less than four months old, there is a small, maternal voice in me that whispers from time to time Go on, you can have one more, just one more little one....but then rational-me turns to maternal-me and says Oh give it a rest and give yourself and your body a bloody break Becks! Funny that,but I'm sure I'm not the only woman that goes through these thought patterns that work something along the lines that whilst I am able to produce children, I ought to do it! But, right, I'm going to type this down now and put it in writing...I always say 'never say never' but I think, in light of what I've been through in the past five years, that I need to make a pledge (and it breaks maternal-me's heart, but she'll get over it, particularly as she already has the most delectable three little nuggets ever...)

And here is my pledge:

NO MORE CHILDREN!

Relief, the importance of talking and vitamin discoveries

2010-11-06T04:33:00.000-07:00

This has been a long, long, long week. I has felt like two weeks, not one, and I'll give you one guess why.
I cannot quite express how relieved I am to have Andy back and be able to share the load of three children being up in the night! I acknowledge that this is an unhelpful thought, but I do sometimes wonder how on earth I'm meant to get through my insomnia if the opportunity to sleep doesn't even present itself! But....in time, I know this will change.

During the course of the past week, something quite important has occurred to me. Many people that I know, good friends included, are unaware of this double existence that I lead. I know that just a handful of people read this blog and that's fine - I've always said that I write this primarily for myself. Whenever I have good days, the first thing I want to do is seize the day and get on with living my life and the last thing I want to do is ruminate on the why's and wherefores of my sleeplessness. But what this means is that I never (or rarely) get to talk about how I feel about it considering that on my bad days I can't (or won't) talk very much about anything. I don't answer the phone when people ring just to 'chat', because chatting is not what I feel like doing. But what I think I'm coming to realise (particularly following a really important conversation that Andy and I had in Devon) is that I need to talk about it on my good days as this is my only opportunity. I certainly don't have to go on and on about it or start wallowing in self-pity, I just need to offload a little. Offloading is not my strong point, certainly not orally. I've always relied on pen and paper (or blogging in more recent years) for that. But as invaluable as this is, it is not the same as talking. So, after that rather long ramble (I'm just trying to get my thoughts in order), what I think I'm trying to say to any of you reading this, when I next see you on a good day, please don't be afraid to ask how I really am. I may not be overly willing at first to talk about it, but I hope this will get better over time.

On another note entirely, I had to go to the GP a few weeks ago for something unrelated and I happened to mention a letter I'd received , quite mysteriously, saying that my blood test results (which blood tests?) showed I have low Vitamin B12 levels. Now this is hardly surprising considering I eat little meat and have Crohn's disease, recessive though it may be. Now I also mentioned my insomnia to this GP, to which he looked at me and said 'Oh, well that's probably because you have low Vitamin B12.' I wanted to say to him 'Hang on just one minute, you can't just explain away five years of insomnia in a simple statement like that.' But I didn't. What I did was sit there and think, my God, this may not be connected in the slightest BUT....it may be. I've been scouring the internet since then for information on possible links and found very little, but last week I had more blood taken to ascertain exactly how low the B12 is, and then depending on the results I may have injections combined with eating very rich B12 foods (I've already started the latter). What I don't want and can't do is start pinning my hopes on this as the cure for my insomnia, BUT the fact remains that I have low levels of B12 and, having done some reading on this, it's an incredibly important vitamin. I'll report back next week after I get my blood test results.

Devon Days

2010-10-30T12:39:00.000-07:00

We had a short break in Devon where we walked along a pebbly beach, snuggled in a cosy cottage with log fires, ate delicious local food and chugged our way through the rolling hills on an old steam train. Good old fashioned England at its very best.

Benjamin decided he was unhappy to be away from Twickers and howled his way through each night. Then Lily, poor love, got chicken pox, so who knows if I have insomnia at the moment - there's been no opportunity to sleep! I am deeply, deeply exhausted - the kind of exhaustion that crawls into your bones and ties your tongue into a firm bow so no words come out. And Andy has left for the USA today for a work trip, so I'm not relishing this week.

BUT...I would not have missed Devon for the world. This cottage is a place I have been to many times and walking into it I physically feel myself relax. Now I must turn my mind from Devon's rolling hills to the realities of here and now and try to get through this week with that poise that I know sometimes eludes me!

Farewell, Uncle Joe

2010-10-23T00:03:00.000-07:00

Five years ago, when Maya was a tiny little comma curled up in her Mama's belly, Andy and I flew to Los Angeles and, before driving up the coastal road to San Francsisco, we stayed in the home of my Uncle Joe, Dad's brother. This was the first time, as an adult, I'd really had the opportunity to get to know Joe and his amazing wife, Gladys and their lust for life was inspiring and motivating.

You can just about make Uncle Joe out in the top picture. He's pointing to a painting on the wall at Venice Beach of one of his friends, a man whom he also helped off the streets and paved the way for a better life for him. That was Joe - always helping people. But he had so many hats. To quote from his obituary: 'There was Joe the real estate developer, the film maker, the builder of low-income housing; Joe the raconteur, the tap dancer, the actor, the musician, the clown; Joe the soccer couch, the gardener, the magician, the world traveler, the political activist.'

When we lived in India last year, my cousin told me he read each of my 'Adventuring Maya' blogs religiously (and believe me, there were alot of them), then printed them off and stuck them in a book. After reading one of my blogs in which I'd written about Maya's love for Charlie and Lola, she received a package in the post from Uncle Joe filled with Charlie and Lola books.

I hardly ever saw him, but I'm going to miss not having him there, across the pond, with his contagious smile and insatiable thirst for justice.

Farewell, Uncle Joe.

Honesty

2010-10-20T14:20:00.000-07:00

I know that this blog can't be the most cheerful reading sometimes. And I'm sorry for that, but this has to be a space where I come to and be totally honest and offload. There are a trillion blogs out there filled with gorgeous sunny musings so perhaps it's a good idea to track one down to click on to after you've read mine! Though having said that, I hope you can see the positive that I try to unearth as much as I can, even if you sometimes have to read between the lines.

When Andy suggested all those moons ago that I write a blog about my insomnia, I think I looked at him like he was loco. Why on earth would I want to throw my experiences out into global cyberspace, with the potential for anyone to read about what I'm going through? But of course, the way it all began was with only Andy reading my blog for many months, so he could know what was happening with me on those days I couldn't talk. Then a few more people started wanted to know what was going on, and little by little I realised that writing about my experiences was helping me in completely unprecedented ways. It could, above all, help me to acknowledge where I was 'at'.

And this is where I was 'at' yesterday:

After four nights of very little sleep, I felt utterly defeated. I felt as though I was throwing my hands up in the air and saying Okay, this is it. I surrender. Though to whom or what I was surrendering, I couldn't tell you. I had one of those moments where I stepped out of my body and looked at myself and what I saw was a hunched figure sitting at the table. The body language said it all and I wanted to shake this person and shout pull yourself together and take her in my arms and hold her, all at the same time. I knew I would not be able to leave the house that day, and if Andy hadn't gone next door to the neighbour to see, last minute, if Maya could go to school with them, then she just wouldn't have gone to school. That's a difficult thing to admit.

BUT

This is where I am 'at' today:

Laughter.
Lunch.
Bright sunlight and crunchy leaves.
Shopping for dresses for a weekend wedding with my mother-in-law.
Maya in a lilac leotard readying herself for ballet.
Lily counting to ten for the first time.
Benjamin and his gorgeous gummy grin.
Bliss.

It's taking the dark with the light, as I so often say. A bit like this photograph I took last weekend on a cold autumn walk over the hills.

Doctor Sleep

2010-10-16T04:07:00.000-07:00

After writing my last post, I decided to bite the bullet and go and see Guy Meadows a.k.a Dr Sleep again. Enough is enough and I know when I'm struggling and need some support. So on a bright October day which saw temperatures soar and even brought people out to sunbathe, I traipsed up to Warwick Avenue with the three little lovelies and my mother in tow. I left them ambling along the sunny canals of Little Venice (have you ever been there? If not, you must - it's wonderful!) whilst I went to talk all things sleepy with Guy.

And when I left, how did I feel? We found it difficult to pinpoint why my sleep has not improved, but at the same time I felt really encouraged that I'm on the right lines. What Guy Meadows advocates makes a huge amount of sense to me. It is not a quick-fix solution - that's what sleeping pills are or a session of acupuncture, but this is just fire-fighting (I'm not saying that acupuncture isn't a wonderful thing, but I need to control this myself). In a sense, he is revolutionary in this field because he has turned means of combatting insomnia on its head by claiming that the more we seek to purge ourselves of sleepless nights, the greater the toll this will extract on our sleep.

Walking through the health section of the library the other day, a row of books on a shelf caught my eye - they were all books dealing with the rising problem of sleeplessness, and suggestions to overcome it. I picked one out at random and flicked through it and just thought wow, if anything is likely to promote poor sleep then it's a book like this. It had tip after tip after tip, but if a person religiously works their way through such a tick list, the pressure they are putting on themselves to sleep is, I'm sure, insurmountable.

So all I can do is keep accepting that this is what is happening to me right now, keep going and keep communicating - even if sometimes it is only through this blog that I am able to.

Naming Benjamin. Naming my feelings.

2010-10-06T03:14:00.000-07:00

'And whether or not it is clear to you,
no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.'

From Desiderata, by Max Ehrmann

On sunday we threw a little party for our gorgeous boy Benjamin with food and wine and words and the fabulous family entertainers as always performing their music and magic. Benjamin slept through a considerable chunk of the party, but when he wasn't asleep, he was very much as the photo above shows him: curiously looking around him and trying to make sense of the world which grows wider and expands around him each day, whilst holding him safely in its arms.

Benjamin's Mama's day got off to a tough start. I remember thinking as I dragged myself out of bed that this was exactly how I was feeling two years previously for Lily's naming day and the longevity of all this hit me afresh and made me feel....well, pretty sad, just wishing wishing wishing I could simply enjoy such a day without having to deal with the pounding head and heavy heart. (I know that one of the golden rules of what I'm trying to practice is not wallowing in nostalgia, but I also think it's important to give myself the space to feel what I'm feeling, and then move on.)

Anyway, I managed to pull myself together and help get everything ready for the party, but when one of the first guests arrived and my dear old friend asked me how the sleep was, I responded 'awful' - not looking for sympathy, just a simple statement. She remarked how well I hid it, at which point I managed to not hide it well in the slightest and promptly burst into tears. Ouch. Didn't see that one coming at all. So the next half hour was spent in my bedroom doing lots of deep breathing and gazing out at the raindrops before I felt sufficiently composed to go back downstairs again.

It is almost impossible to explain to people how different the world appears with some decent Z's under one's belt. It is pouring with rain outside, but I can't wait to get out into it, and turn my face to the sky. I want to scoop my children up and hug their warm, alive little bodies to mine. I want to pick up the phone and call all those people I've been neglecting. I want to make a collage full of the reds, golds and oranges of autumn.

The summer after my Dad died, I took off round Spain with a backpack. In Salamanca, I met a couple of fun American girls whom I hung out with for a few days. One night in a bar, I got a bit tearful (think I'd had too much to drink) and remember apologising for my perceived dampening of the spirits of a cheerful evening. One of the girls was called Tara, and I'll never forget what she said to me that moment - it has stayed with me ever since. She said 'We don't apologise for our laughter, so we shouldn't apologise for our tears.' How right she was. How can we possibly know what it is to be happy without feeling sadness?

There she comes

2010-10-01T13:27:00.000-07:00

Nothing whatsoever to do with sleep, but recently a good friend's father died and I was reminded of this beautiful passage which has helped me in the past deal with the enormous subject of death, and which I would like to share. Here it is:

What is dying?

I am standing on the sea shore. A ship sails to the morning breeze and starts for the ocean.

She is an object of beauty and I stand watching her till at last she fades on the horizon, and someone at my side says 'She is gone.'

Gone where? Gone from my sight, that is all;

she is just as large in the masts, hull and spars as she was when I saw her,

and just as able to bear her load of living freight to its destination.

The diminished size and total loss of sight is in me, not in her;

and just at the moment when someone at my side says 'She is gone',

there are others who are watching her coming,

and other voices take up a glad shout,

'There she comes' -

and that is dying.

Confidence

2010-09-30T05:04:00.000-07:00

I've come to realise that in the past few years I've lost a little confidence.Without going into it too much (because I know that it will come back), I used to spend alot of time chatting to people, strangers also because I found people fascinating. I still do, but the difference now is that I'm often less willing to embark on conversations.

Maya starting school is proving an education for me aswell as her - all these chirpy, breezy mothers in the playground (at least, that's how they seem, perhaps the reality is quite different...).There's lots of the polite chit-chat at the moment - how's your child getting on - that kind of thing. Lots of people are interested in Benjamin and admire the colourful Guatemalan sling I carry him in. They ask how he's getting on at night, to which I reply in the affirmative, because he really is great, more often than not just waking once for a feed. But what I don't say, of course, is that I'm not getting on too well in the night. I mean, that would be a very odd thing to say, wouldn't it.

However. This morning was a bit different. Maya has made a little chum, Ruby, who she goes into the school building with holding hands (adorable). I often see Ruby's Dad who is a friendly guy, one of these people you instinctively trust. When he asked how I was this morning, I said I was feeling pretty exhausted. He asked if Benjamin was keeping me up at night. Normally I would have said yes, as it's by far the easiest response. But something in me wanted to tell the truth today and I looked straight at him and said 'To tell the truth, Benjamin's fine. I just can't sleep.' And that was that. In a way, it felt good to be honest for once. People (me included) so rarely say what's truly going on inside them.

Anyway, it's a sing-song golden-green sunny Autumnal day, one of these days it feels so good to be alive. My insomnia is so intangible - the shades and textures of this beautiful day are not, so it's something to embrace.

Where I am taken to today

2010-09-24T04:29:00.000-07:00

This morning I got out of bed with a ton of bricks pounding down on my forehead. At least, that's what it felt like. Three nights in a row with very little sleep. I know I shouldn't be counting, but there are some things that one just knows.

Some good friends are seeing a hypnotherapist who works nearby to where I live who has, apparently, done wonders for various problems. My mother suggested this morning that I go and see her. I know she is just thinking of me, but it's not the right thing for me to do. In fact, I've made a pledge to myself that I'm not going to see another soul about my sleep problem - I already have a few dozen notches of people who've tried to help me under my belt and have lain on more couches than I care to remember.

No, it's up to me now. It is so, so hard not to get down after a few decent nights and then - wham - I lie awake all night whilst Benjamin, the model baby, wakes just once in the night for a feed.

I have a few coping mechanisms in place, and they are definitely not all good ones. But they propel me on through the day. Here is what I do:

I drink a very strong coffee...

(I wish I could say that a healthy, healing cup of roobois gave me the same hit)

I eat chocolate...

(My cocoa tastes are fickle, but current favourite is mint flavour Divine)

I do my breathing, observing exercises...

(Sometimes these are interrupted, sometimes they're not)

Failing being able to play, I listen to music...

(Right now, I'm lost in Einaudi's 'Divenire' - click here to listen)

and very often I have a good cry...

(Yes, this is a coping mechanism.

Better out than in, and these tears definitely need to come out.

Somehow, they're healing.

And once they're over, I feel a little better.)

Enjoy listening to Einaudi. He never fails to move me. Divenire takes you through a wide range of emotions which fit my mood perfectly today: sadness, searching, anger, conciliatoriness (wow, that's a long old word - had to look it up to check it exists...which it does!) and then, as you'll hear if you listen all the way through, ends on a question.

I know nobody can give me the answer to my question, but it's only human for me to ask it. Let's say it's rhetorical, so I'll leave out the question mark, but here it is:

Will this ever be over.

A rare moment with all three babes asleep to write a blog....

2010-09-15T13:04:00.000-07:00

Where have the days flown by to? I have been wanting to write a blog for days and days now, but each time I've tried to approach the laptop, something has pulled me away again (crying baby / squabbling daughters / spillage / pukage / snottage...delete as appropriate).

So, what's been happening in our neck of the woods since I last blogged?

Lily becomes lovelier and feistier by the day.

Maya nearly reduced her mama to tears on her first day of school.

Benjamin, our little one, is growing so fast he won't even fit on a pillow soon (sniff!)

And Andy (el guapo del autobus) and I celebrated five years of delicious marriage.

And what about me? Is my sanity being retained? Well...sometimes. Today was a toughie - on the verge of sleep-deprived tears for most of the day, with my shades firmly on to keep me IN and others OUT. Many tantrums, with all of us feeding off each other and our moods chasing one another round and round like a crazed carousel all gone out of control.

My sleep comes and goes. When it comes, I almost get carried away and feel like throwing a party and inviting everyone I know and others that I don't for good measure.

But when it goes, like today, I zip up my mouth and just try to get through the day, one breath at a time, one step at a time.

But you know what, I'm coming to accept that this is just how I am when I haven't slept. I am not a bad mother. I am not a bad wife. I am just lil ol me who is human and feels dire when in the clutches of sleep deprivation. But as my mother in law pointed out to me, for the past five years I have either been pregnant or breast-feeding. Now if this doesn't play a few little tricks with one's hormones, then what does?

I'm still trying to stop several times a day (often it's when I'm breastfeeding, as I have to stop for that) to observe what it feels like to be present: to smell, to listen, to feel, to take in everything around me. I love doing this, it's become so important. It helps me to feel alive when the weight of exhaustion presses down on me.

Of course I can't know for sure, but I think that I may have sleep problems for some time to come. And am I OK with that? Unlike before, yes, I am. Truly. I have nailed my poor sleeping habits so deeply within me, that it's going to take a long time to prize them out and free them. But look at these three gorgeous children and hubby. I mean, how lucky am I?

The nights are drawing in.

The raspberries and blackberries on their canes are slowing down.

I'm getting in the autumn mood for skirts and stripey tights.

And I'll grab a little sleep when I can.

Finding compassion for myself and my children

2010-08-21T22:27:00.000-07:00

'Children learn more from what we do than from what we say.'

'Time-Out for Parents. A guide to compassionate parenting' by Cheri Huber & Melinda Guyol

I'm not implying that I go and sit in yellow buckets in the garden (!) but I've included this qoute because it's the driving force behind 'Time-Out for Parents', a book I'm reading at the moment. I bought it in a bookshop in San Francisco whilst pregnant with Maya, hoping but not really knowing that it could provide some useful advice one day. I read it after Maya was born, and then again when Lily arrived and it's the third time now. Each time, the message has become more and more pertinent as life becomes a little more hectic with each new child. This book is so, so important and really leads on from what I was talking about in my last blog because it's all about modelling a happy, alive adulthood in order to pass that gift on to our children. And the only way we can be compassionate as parents is to be compassionate with ourselves. And this means taking time-out for ourselves.

It is so easy to be the kind of parent one aspires to be when everything is going well. Take a few days ago, when I'd slept pretty well.... Benjamin was having a morning nap and I did yoga and baking with the girls and I was even on the verge of feeling smug about being able to deal with the demands of my growing family. But then take a peek into the following day: I was knackered, Benjamin was screaming, Lily whining, Maya demanding this, that and the other and it felt like everything was crashing down around my head. I wanted to press the pause button and jump off the train of relentless noise. I wanted to open the front door, walk out and leave them all to it. But of course I can't do that, so I have to deal with those moments as best as possible. And sometimes I'm not at all proud of how I do deal with them. (But guilt, as I'm discovering more and more, is self-destructive and counter-productive. Yet I still battle with it hugely.)

So, what does all this have to do with sleep? Well, quite a lot. I know in the past I've rushed to pronounce myself 'cured' of my sleep problem when I feel I've hit upon a supposed panacea to my sleeplessness. The last few nights however, as Benajamin has been sleeping sweetly, I have found myself wide awake again. And that is FINE - of course I am still going to have nights like this. But I think that such nights are a gentle nudge, telling me that it's not all over. And whether it's due to lack of sleep or the plain and simple experiences with three children, I'm going to keep having these thoroughly overwhelming moments, just like everyone does. It's called Life. But it's these times I need to draw upon the calmer, stronger elements that I know are within me, it's just that if I'm stressed, they feel very deeply buried.

Seedlings

2010-08-18T12:21:00.000-07:00

The other day, Andy commented that he'd planted all his seedlings. I thought he was talking about the kale at the allotment, but it turned out that what he was actually referring to was his kiddy winks - that everything now feels present and correct...no need for any more bambini to be sown!

I feel the same. And it's so special this time round, because I know that it'll be the last time I hold my baby of one week old...or get up in the night to feed a baby of two weeks...or feel a tiny three week old hand curl around my finger. So I have to treasure all of these moments - they are very, very precious.

Sleep, I am happy to report, continues to be sound. Many people have commented that it's hormonal. Of course it's no coincidence that I have started to sleep better after having given birth and there is, I'm sure, a link there. But I also believe that what I'm practising in the day is starting to have a knock-on effect at night too. The amazing thing is that it's not rocket-science. What it boils down to for me is taking time-out several times a day to be present and to look inward rather than outwards. The post-it notes with the prompts on them (to help remind me of various mindfulness techniques), are still all up around the house and have almost become a part of the furniture now. I've had many comments about them from visitors to the house, ranging from interest to incredulity, but they continue to help me stop, even if for twenty seconds, and just take time-out for myself. I feel now as though I'm unable to do do without this.

Life in the palm of my hands

2010-08-11T07:58:00.000-07:00

One step closer to setting sail to the oceans my creative writing website...and one step closer also to letting go of my need to write a blog about my insomnia? Maybe. Maybe not. My relationship to this blog is like the relationship a small child has to their parent, wanting independence but not letting go of their hand...just in case. I've had periods in the past since I started this blog of feeling strong enough for this independence, but have always come back to it. And that's fine. That's what it's here for.

The other day when a health visitor came to visit Benjamin and I, we somehow got on to the subject of my insomnia and it transpired that she has suffered from the same thing for years and years, ever since moving from Ghana to the UK. She told me that her teenage sons are insufferably noisy in the evenings and all she wants, in order to help her sleep, is some peace and quiet. I started to give her some advice and suggestions and then took a step back from the scene and was shocked by what I found: Me, giving advice on insomnia? Wonders will never cease.

And whilst I'm on the subject of advice, reading back over the insomnia article I wrote for the Green Parent magazine about a year ago, I'm afraid I now think no, no, no to a great deal of it. That's not it at all. I don't want to encourage people to try this and to try that to help them sleep. And I am NO expert. But what I do know is this: that the harder I try to sleep, the more it will elude me. The only way I can become a 'normal' sleeper again is to let go of my desire to control it.

On another note entirely, because I am a proud big sister, please do check out the new website of my sister and her husband, musical duo extraordinaire. And even better, go to one of their concert's - you'll be in for a treat!

Click here

My raspberry ripple boy

2010-08-06T03:59:00.000-07:00

I wrote in my previous blog that the quality and quantity of my sleep was much improved since Benjamin had joined us - well, twelve days in and I may have to revoke the latter claim! However, it's still good news as I'm pleased to report that the quality remains far superior to what I was experiencing before.

I do wonder if, now that I am physically far more comfy at night, I am finally able to put into practice what I've been learning from Guy Meadows of the Insomnia Clinic.Arguably it has nothing to do with this and it's the combination of a huge hormonal shift and the fact that Benjamin is out which is giving me more Z's. But I have to say I don't believe this to be the case. It's been a couple of months now that I've been stubbornly practising mindfulness techniques several times each day.

So yes, I am tired. But I am tired because I am a new mother, nothing more nothing less. Hoo-RAY!

This is going to be a short blog. I am currently typing with one finger as I have a wee babe in my left arm. He is wearing my thirty-two year old baby clothes (seriously!), has a dusting of copper hair, skin the colour of raspberry ripple icecream, pouting lips, a noble nose and eyes like small pools of liquid cornflower...when he chooses to open them, which isn't too often yet as this little man likes to.....SLEEP!

ps - photo taken last week on our first family outing to Claremont National Trust.

Life on the other side

2010-08-02T09:04:00.000-07:00

Quite bizarrely, (or perhaps not so bizarrely), the quality and quantity of my sleep has improved ten-fold since Benjamin's been with us. Despite the fact that I am feeding through the night on demand. And of course I'd be crazy to speak too soon because absolutely anything could still happen. But I'm just taking a day (and a night!) at a time.

Today was my first day without Andy here which I must confess I felt somewhat apprehensive about. I haven't stopped which is, of course, a taster of things to come. I kept starting things throughout the day only to be interrupted a minute or two later then totally forgetting about it. Case in point: Around 11 am I smelt burning from upstairs so rushed down to find the kitchen filled with smoke and a strange man in my garden. It was only then that I remembered that a) I had put chickpeas on the boil ages before and they were now burnt to a perfect crisp and that b) we live in a posh square where a gardener comes every fortnight to mow the grass. He seems like quite an open-minded kind of bloke which is just as well because at that point I also had a savoy cabbage leaf hanging out of my very visible bra (don't ask) and that, combined with the kitchen billowing out black smoke, can't be top of his list of everyday sights.

Yep, think I'm going to have my hands full.

Benjamin

2010-07-29T07:54:00.000-07:00

The night after I wrote my last blog - hoping hoping hoping that it was time - I was woken in the early hours and I knew my my little full moon baby was ready to come.

So here he is, Benjamin.

And as monday morning dawned, warm and overcast and close, the world seemed to embrace the five of us and hold us in the palm of her hand.

Not too much sleep has been thrown into the equation since Benjamin arrived but I am far, far too happy to be worried about this.

Welcome to the world, Benjamin, my son.

Bring it on

2010-07-24T22:50:00.000-07:00

After six hellish nights, I have had some sleep and I feel like I've come out a black tunnel. Tomorrow is my due date anyway so bring on

the spicey curries

the raspberry leaf tea

the fresh pineapple

the long walks

the reflexology

the castor oil (gross)

the sex

Bring on whatever it takes!
I FINALLY HAVE SOME ENERGY AND I WANT TO GO INTO LABOUR!!!!!

Bebby ready now?

2010-07-23T08:23:00.000-07:00

When people ask me if I have a hunch whether I'm having a boy or a girl, I've always responded that I have not the foggiest. I decided after Lily (whom I was SO certain was a boy, that she was 'Sebastian' right up until about ten minutes after giving birth) that my so-called-mother's-intuition wasn't all it was cracked up to be and ceased all this male-female hypothesising. The truth is though that because my pregnancy has been so similar to the other two, I've secretly felt it's probably a girl.

However, the past month has not been similar whatsover. I feel like I'm on constant alert that this baby's coming any second. I've had two nights of full-on contractions, killer heartburn (I am now a gaviscon junkie - yeuck) ,twinges that never seem to go away and lots and lots of throbbing pains which come with a particular vengeance at night. So it feels like the opportunity to sleep is not really presenting itself at the moment. It's been five nights now that I've barely slept and yes, I am going slightly doo-lally. I am being fuelled with coffee, some amazing music I am discovering on spotify (my latest obsession - you must check it out), big fat buttery carob cookies and the unswerving support of my family.

Thank you for allowing me to vent my exhausted frustration into cyberworld (in other words, have a good old moan - it must sound like I think I'm the only woman to have ever had a baby!). This can't be much fun to read sometimes...but I've always said that I write this as much (or more?) for myself as it really helps.

On a more positive note, I am hopefully going to be launching my new website (for busy women who love creative writing) and accompanying blog soon - hooray! I know, slightly bizarre timing. And it's going to be a big challenge to get it properly up and running, but hey ho.

Final thing to say...when the midwife visited on monday, Lily asked in her adorable innocent way 'Baby (pronounced 'bebby') ready now?' I'd like to echo that. Surely you're cooked enough now, little one? Please come soon baby.

Tears

2010-07-20T11:43:00.000-07:00

This evening Maya and I had a good old cry together. Maya was crying because she wasn't allowed to change into different pyjamas for every night of the week. And her mama was crying because she's slept about four hours the past two nights and been a big old emotional, hormal mess today.

Am I a bad mother for letting her see me 'let go' like this? I try and limit, obviously, the amount she sees me cry. But supermum I ain't. I'm human. And shocked as she was to see me like that, when I was ok again, we talked about it. I said to her that it's ok for mummy's to cry too sometimes, but that it's nothing she needs to worry about and what a special girl she is. She then flung her arms around me, told me how special I was too and how proud she is of me. Which made my heart burst and I nearly started sobbing all over again.

A friend recently reminded me that in the weeks and months leading up to the birth of Lily, I was going through an incredibly tough patch sleep-wise (so easy for me to forget this - these 'patches' blur and meld into one another over the past four years... though I do remember during the period she's talking about one long early morning walk through the backs of Cambridge as the mist rose, starting at about 3 am and ending around 7). Anyway, this friend helped me to remember that when Lily arrived, I felt far, far better. Maybe this is because you expect not to sleep because you have a new baby and the excitement of it all takes over. Or maybe it's nature's way of making the body get at least a little rest that it needs so much at this time.

Perhaps the same will happen this time. Perhaps not. But two things I do know: Firstly, that I'm looking forward to meeting this little person that has been giving my insides a battering and my heart a yearning and secondly, that it doesn't help an iota to bottle up tears.

What the body knows and the mind prevents

2010-07-18T04:54:00.000-07:00

'Having a child is a momentous decision. It is to decide to forever have your heart walking around outside your body.'

Elizabeth Stone

How true is this? I am having an incredibly quiet, peaceful weekend as Maya and Lily are with my parents-in-law and Andy is on a stag-do and the baby is still safely in utero (though making its presence well and truly known!). Despite loving loving loving this time and space and peace to write and chill and do things I've been wanting to do for some time, my mind probably whizzes over to the girls every ten minutes or so, thinking are they ok? I wonder what they're doing? So yes, I need this time. But I still miss them, these little hearts pattering around outside my body.

BUT...having this quiet time gives me the opportunity to have eureka moments such as the one I had yesterday. For most reading this, I can't imagine this will sound like a big deal, but to me it did feel like a big deal. It's a notion that Guy Meadows from the Insomnia Clinic first instilled in me, but it didn't really 'click' with me till yesterday. Basically, it's that each and every one of us have the ability to not only sleep, but to sleep well. The body knows how to sleep - it is programmed to wind us down and give us that rest we need. But it's our minds that won't allow our bodies to do this.

I first started thinking about this as I was recalling a night about a week ago that I slept pretty soundly all the night through, something that is very rare for me. I slept through Maya waking up, I didn't go to the toilet (amazing at this stage in pregnancy!) and the early morning light filtering through the windows didn't even rouse me. Thinking about this yesterday, I realised that this is what I am ABLE to do. This is not out of reach, even for a hardened insomniac (!) like me. Not that I'm thinking or hoping this will be a nightly occurrence, but I think the best thing for me right now is to believe and trust in my body and it's ability to switch off like that...if only my mind allows it to.

Eight months, three weeks and feeling it

2010-07-15T12:22:00.000-07:00

Rain.

Cool.

Bliss.

'Nuff said.

I could do with this bubs coming out now because, regardless of whether I have insomnia or not at the moment, when one is eight months and three weeks pregnant, they feel rather large and finding a comfy position in bed at night is nigh-on impossible. I am as ripe and ready to burst as these star fruit above. But a bizarre number of people say to me 'Oh, but you don't look all that large'. All I need to do at this point is turn round so they're looking at me side-on and then they just get it and their mouths form a large 'Ah.'

This morning I just couldn't get out of bed. If you decide to come today, I said to the baby, I think you ought to know I don't have too much energy. Do you think you could come after I've had some decent kip? Ha, yeah right. I know s/he will come when they're good and ready. As I've said before, on days like this, thank heavens for my the support my mother gives me (I really am very lucky having her live so close). And also thank God for coffee. I know you're not meant to drink too much in pregnancy but when I feel like this...well, I break that rule good and proper.

I had a good session with Guy Meadows from the Insomnia Clinic a couple of days ago. I still have a long old way to go, but that's ok. One day at a time. One night at a time. I'll write more about what I took from it soon, but in the meantime, could anyone reading this do a baby dance in place of a rain dance for me to help coax it out?

One month on

2010-07-12T12:31:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow I have another appointment with Guy Meadows at the Insomnia Clinic. So, almost exactly one month on and, without scrutinising myself too much, how do I feel that I'm faring?

Ok, am I sleeping better?

In a word, no.

Are the floorboards still creaking each night with my restless footsteps?

No. (My bed and I are in the process of 're-bonding', though sometimes it still drives me crazy and I feel like kicking it!)

Am I still having lots of unhelpful insomnia-related thoughts during the day? (I'm a wreck....I can't cope...I used to have so much energy...Another crap day...I really need to sleep tonight...etc etc etc)

Yes...BUT...and this is a BIG 'but'...I am far, far more aware of these thoughts. Now, rather than allowing them to wallow like pigs in mud, I am checking them, no longer believing in these thoughts as gospel truth and trying to allow them to move along. Sometimes, they creep back again and again and again. But at least I can see this now and question if this thought is friend or foe.

So maybe I'm not sleeping better. But I'm 'thinking' better (ha!), ie there has been a small but perceptible shift in the crazy rollercoaster ride that is my internal dialogue. And in my book that is a great thing.

Longing for the sea...and thank you Amma

2010-07-09T12:07:00.000-07:00

I think when you're pregnant you're about five degrees hotter anyway than other people, so in this heat at almost thirty-eight weeks pregnant, I've been literally hallucinating about jumping me and my big belly into a humungous bath tub. Or even better...a river. Or better still.... a lake. OR....and this would be my ultimate fantasy right now...the wide open sea.

This is my mother standing at the top in the spotty bikini when she did the hippy thing in Crete in the late sixties and lived in a cave (mind you, she's only just got back from two and a half years of travelling round Africa, so I guess the hippy in her is still going strong). I must confess that a cave wouldn't be top of my list of places to live in my condition, but AH, to live by the sea now! I would lie on my back all day long and float me and bump up and down on the waves. Ha, well I can dream. Instead, Lily has been sat in a bucket in the garden for most of the day, Maya defies the heat altogether and walks around in full on long sleeved tops under dresses, topped off with a snow white outfit whilst their Mama slinks from shadow to shadow and pours glasses of water over her head.

Enough moaning. The purpose of this blog was really to say the following: thank the lord for my mother. I know Amma doesn't read my blog. But I don't know what I would have done without her in the past weeks. On many, many days she has taken the girls when I've not slept much. And if it's just been for an hour or two, it's been seriously helpful. Today, for example, was a very long, hot, tired day but the hour and a half that she took Maya and Lily this morning was a godsend and means that now, come the evening, I am still tired...but I am not passing out.

So - .if you ever read this - thank you Amma. But even if you don't, that's fine too, because I'm constantly relaying my gratitude. I hope it's enough!

Staring at the sun

2010-07-06T13:17:00.000-07:00

It's almost impossible to share dreams with others - those fractured images that dance through our REM sleep like elusive fireflies. My dreams are bizarre to say the least (or warped as Andy would say!) and normally I wouldn't write about them in my blog. But as a one-off, I'd like to share this one.

About a month ago, after a very long night during which I came downstairs and eventually dropped off on the sofa around 5 am, I had the most amazing dream. It was so incredible that, despite desperately needing some sleep, I made myself wake up so that I could write it down and remember it. In brief, I remember gentle but uplifting music and invisible hands pushing me down under the sea and holding me there. I almost panicked but then didn't, knowing that I was there for a reason. The same invisble hands were then placed on either side of my head and lifted it up slowly. To begin with, I resisted the hands but I knew that whatever this presence wanted me to see was siginificant, so eventually allowed my head to be raised. And I found myself staring at the sun, a great big ball of shining, powerful, resplendent light. And it looked and felt amazing.

As I said before, impossible really to put into words, but suffice it to say that when I had woken myself up, although I felt deep exhaustion, I also felt profound happiness and contentment and found myself smiling. I'm no good at deciphering dreams, but it's another thing to understand how something can make us feel. Just as I used to stretch my morning limbs on that Guatemalan rooftop those years ago as the sun rose over the hilltops, somehow my dream felt as though at my moment of most intense tiredness, it was still possible to find joy, acceptance and strength.

So, difficult as it is, it is possible.

The Waiting Game

2010-07-03T05:04:00.000-07:00

The Guest House

'This being human is a guest house. Every morning a new arrival. A joy, a depression, a meanness, some momentary awareness comes as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all! Even if they're a crowd of sorrows, who violently sweep your house empty of its furniture, still, treat each guest honorably. He may be clearing you out for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice, meet them at the door laughing and invite them in. Be grateful for whoever comes, because each has been sent as a guide from beyond.'

Rumi

This was sent the other day from Guy Meadows of the Insomnia Clinic and such encouraging words couldn't have come at a better time as I read it on a morning I was feeling particularly rough. It's certainly not easy to welcome 'a crowd of sorrows' - I feel as though I have a long way to go before I can say I'm achieving this. But still...here we are...a bright, sunny new summer's day and I am having a very, very quiet, peaceful day. I'm disappointed that I'm not at my godson's 3rd birthday - Andy and the girls have gone without me, the reason being that last night I had another whole night of early contractions. Does this baby want to come early per chance?

They have finally subsided but I'm drained and need to take it easy today and 'nest' as Andy and I call it. I've already cleaned the crib and shifted things around in the baby's room. Now I'm heading for my room where I hope it's not too hot and just stretch out and relax and maybe even dream of a tiny little person who is coming to meet me soon.

Joy and Sorrow

2010-07-01T13:39:00.000-07:00

'Then a woman said, Speak to us of Joy and Sorrow.
And he answered:
Your joy is your sorrow unmasked.
And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises was oftentimes filled with your tears.
And how else can it be?
The deeper your sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.
Is not the cup that holds your wine the very cup that was burned in the potter's oven?
And is not the lute that soothes your spirit the very wood that was hollowed with knives?

When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy.

When you are sorrowful, look again into your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.

Some of you say, 'Joy is greater than sorrow,' and others say, 'Nay, sorrow is the greater.'
But I say unto you, they are insperable.
Together they come, and when one sits alone with you at your board, remember that the other is asleep upon your bed.
Verily you are suspended like scales between your sorrow and your joy.
Only when you are empty are you at standstill and balanced.
When the treasure-keeper lifts you to weigh his gold and his silver, needs must your joy or your sorrow rise or fall.'

From 'The Prophet' by Kahlil Gibran.

I discovered Kahlil Gibran back in 2000 when I was in India for the first time and his words have often helped me out over the years. I happened to flick through The Prophet yesterday and came across his take on Joy and Sorrow. I was going to take just the phrase out I've put in a different colour, since this speaks to me the loudest right now, but it was all so beautifully expressed and so wise, that I copied down the whole section.

After a night of no sleep, I needed these words today. Amazingly... somehow...tough though it was, I managed to get through the day without having a meltdown. Andy left for work an hour later and my mother took the girls for a bit in the afternoon which obviously both helped alot. But even so, significantly, the emotion of guilt ('I'm a bad wife and mother') was pretty much absent. And I'm doing okay.

Finding my presence in the present

2010-06-30T11:07:00.000-07:00

'The past is water under the bridge and the future is a distant sun on the horizon of your imagination. The most important moment is now. Learn to live in it and savour is fully.'

Robin Sharma

Every way I look and listen at the moment, I seem to be bombarded with words and messages that tell me to root myself in the present. These two gorgeous cheeky girls are far, far better at this than me. The other day, we were lying on the grass in the park and Maya was making up a song as she flitted around. She was singing phrases like 'I'm kicking the football, I'm picking a daisy, I'm looking up at the sky..' Her words were utterly un-self conscious and it really struck me how naturally it comes to little people, to absorb themselves in their task at hand and and just exist in the moment. When does this start to erode?

I feel like I'm taling two step forwards then five steps back at the moment. Today, I haven't managed to pick myself up all day and I feel disgruntled, tired and alone. And guilty already that Andy is going to return home in about twenty minutes time, feeling invogorated from cycling fourteen miles, to find me like this. And here's the point I ought to be checking myself and saying 'Hello 'guilt thoughts', how you doing? Off you go now.' Surely just by writing this; by acknowledging it, I have the chance to turn it around, put myself out of my comfort zone and give my long-suffering husband a break. How I wish I could find this strength. How I wish I WILL find this strength.

Something is up today though. But I look out of the window and I see and hear so much beauty: gold and silver hued light, a spider sitting proudly in her dancing web, leaves whispering secrets...and I think come on Becks, pull yourself together. You ARE strong. But you have to believe in yourself. Today has been a non-belief day. And negativity of course breeds negativity. One of the good things about this programme of Guy Meadows' from the London Insomnia Clinic that I'm following is that somehow the pressure to NOT feel bad has been lifted. It's quite difficult to explain, but if I AM to find my presence in the present, that means welcoming the bad along with the good. It's not saying you have to always be upbeat and stay positive. It's saying it's OK to feel like crap and feel horrible. But then it's knowing what to do with these feelings and finding a skilful reaction to them. This is the golden key.

Roll on the rain

2010-06-28T12:54:00.000-07:00

Last night, everything that I have been putting into practice over the past couple of weeks and feeling so good about was chucked firmly out of the window, along with my sanity. I was up and down all night - fanning myself with the book on my bedside table, dabbing myself with a cold flannel in the bathroom and generally huffing and puffing. Every time I tried to do my mindful breathing and observation, instead my mind was hijacked by the thought I am SO hot. I am SOOOOO bloody hot! Not helpful, and definitely not conducive to sleeping.

I think I managed to snatch around an hour in fits and starts during the night, but unsurprisingly am feeling rough today (was awake from 3 am the night before last) and there have been far too many of the 'poor me' category (see last blog) thoughts whirring around my brain like a deranged ceiling fan. Heat's never bothered me too much before, even living in Southern Spain for 2 years and India for another couple. But as an eight month preggy lady, it is very bothering indeed.

Ah, roll on the rain.

Thoughts

2010-06-24T12:06:00.000-07:00

'Thoughts are just sounds, words, stories, bits of language passing through our heads. Learning to look 'at' them in this way helps to break the emotional attachment and reactionary behaviour that certain thoughts have over us. Treating thoughts as just thoughts means that they can no longer hurt us.'

Dr Guy Meadows

Something that I have realised with great clarity over the past week is that my mind is working massively, crazily overtime. I'm not saying I'm unusual on this front - I think most of us have minds that chatter, judge, take a cartwheel or two and then chatter some more. And there's nothing wrong with this - it's normal. But it has been fascinating recently to observe what's going on in my mind throughout the day and to see these thoughts for what they really are - just thoughts.

I really like the words I've included from Guy Meadows above, especially the first sentence. Because they helps me to better understand that it is not the thought that is important but my reaction to it. Something that Guy suggests and that I've managed to do in the past few days is categorise the type of unhelpful thoughts I have towards my insomnia. An example of one of these categories is what I've called my 'nostalgic thoughts'. This is a strong one and has, I've discovered, quite a hold over me whereby my internal monolgue runs something along the lines of the following:

I used to have so much energy. I never used to stop. I did so much. I was so sociable. I was always amongst the last to leave a party. I had so much zest for life. How can I possibly aspire to any of these things when I'm so exhausted?I miss the old me.

When thoughts of these nature pop into my head, what I am trying to do now is firstly be aware of them, which can help to prevent them run riot. Then I'll think 'Ok, I'm having my nostalgic thoughts. Well, hello nostalgic thoughts, thanks for your input.' And simply by being aware of my (largely unhelpful) nostalgia, I feel a huge release and then I can try and let them go. Sometimes they may only be gone for as little as ten seconds before they muscle in again. But it doesn't matter how many times it takes - I need to keep observing them and then letting them carry on their way.

On another note, how have I been sleeping? The truth is, apart from one bumper night of sleep at the end of last week, not well. So I am tired (not to mention rather enormous and am wilting like an un-watered strawberry plant in this heat). But my mother is being a superstar and helping me out with the girls. And it's OK that I'm tired. Because, ironically, if I continue looking at the present rather than towards the future, I may just get there one day.

Sewing the seed of now

2010-06-21T12:32:00.000-07:00

'...and you learn to build up your roads on today
Because tomorrow's ground is too uncertain
For your plans.'

Author Unknown

I've had a really lovely day. Honestly, a great day. As soon as I got out of bed, I knew I'd had enough sleep and it such a rarity that I can say this. When I went downstairs and Andy asked me how I was, it was such a joy to be able to reply, very simply, I am fine. Wow - what a feeling.

Today I have covered the house in little post-it notes - things that I've taken away from my session with Dr Meadows and the subsequent notes he's sent me. They are essentially techniques to help me be mindful during the day, as I can't very well expect to suddenly feel fine when I wake in the night if I can't learn to keep myself in the here and now during daytime hours. They are also means to counter unhelful thoughts that may pop into my head during the day, such as 'I'm a wreck, I can't cope' or 'If I had more sleep, there's so much more I'd be doing with my time'...that kind of thing. Whether or not they are true, thinking these thoughts are not going to resolve a thing and they're certainly not going to help me sleep better.

So I have these little tricks up my sleeve now (which the post-it's are reminding me of!), such as singing these sombre thoughts to a merry tune such as Happy Birthday - this enables me to respond to the thoughts more playfully and ultimately with less fear and also to see them for what they really are: just thoughts. I do this in my head though, not out loud, as people might think I'm a nutter if I go round singing I'm such a terrible wife and mother to the tune of Happy Birthday!

So yes, today has been good. But just because I slept well last night, I know this doesn't mean I'll necessarily sleep well again tonight. But it doesn't mean I necessarily won't either. The point is to bring myself into the present as many times as I'm able to during the day by being aware of my surroundings, my breathing and my knee-jerk reactions. And rather than judge these reactions, as I'm apt to do, observing them and then letting them go.

Making peace with my bed

2010-06-19T07:25:00.000-07:00

Mindful Sleep Therapy gives you the choice of being able to stop fighting with your insomnia and instead accept and embrace it. It does this in the knowledge that once all fear, anger and pain surrounding poor sleep is accepted so too will be the powerful grip that it has over you.

Dr Guy Meadows

Have I been here before? Have I? This idea of acceptance - real acceptance of my insomnia - not a half-hearted, enforced, tepid, wishy-washy kind of acceptance. Yes, I have. But I've never been able to see it through, because a powerful wave always engulfs me and a defiant voice from a place deep within says I do not accept this. I do not want to suffer anymore, and I need to fix this problem.

Well, I think the time has finally come to stop trying to fix this problem. So much of what Guy said at my appointment at the London Insomnia Clinic the other day made sense to me. The idea is that the more I fight my condition ie by trying to 'solve' it, the more I will be at its mercy.

So, how does one 'accept and embrace' a mentally and physically debilitating condition? It's far, far easier said than done. There's no overnight fix to this....obviously. I need to keep taking a day at a time. And another good place to start is by making peace with my bed, strange as it sounds. I've spent more hours than I care to remember in places other than my bed in the small hours. When I don't sleep, I blog, I read, I think, I walk, I eat, I drink, I even bake.

I used to love my bed. And whilst this is no longer the case, it's time to make peace with it. No more claiming this quiet, dark, peaceful space downstairs in the middle of the night as mine. I need to stay in bed and resist the urge to be somewhere else. This is what I've done the past few nights since my appointment and it has, to be honest, been hell. I've squirmed and wriggled and half sat up before making myself lie down again. But, as I said before, this will take some time. And of course, there are tools to help us insomniacs to stay in bed and re-associate with it. More of that in the next blog...

Midsummer reflections

2010-06-15T18:57:00.000-07:00

As midsummer approaches, it is only dark - really, really dark - for a couple of hours at night. It's half past two now, but by three it will be growing light and the birds will be singing.

My mother thinks that when I wake in the night, I ought to stay in bed. Perhaps I should. But after an hour and a half of staying motionless, hoping sleep will re-claim me, bed becomes a place I don't want to be and I think that the only sane thing to do is be elsewhere.

When I come down here and I turn on the computer, I never know what I'm going to write. But something always comes, so there's obviously enough going round in my head to convert to the page. In a way, writing's always saved me; been my redemption. Even when I was very small, I vividly remember seeking refuge with either with a book or a notepad when I was feeling unhappy about something. I watch Maya now, aged four, earnestly doing her 'notepadding' as she calls it and I wonder if writing will one day prove as cathartic for her as it is for me.

Having said that something always comes, I have to say that right now I don't know what I want to write about at all. I just want to be down here for a little while and then go back to bed. Tomorrow - today, I mean - I have my appointment at the London Insomnia Clinic. It's pretty funny really, the thought that Dr Meadows will find this zombie woman in his office, looking and feeling like death warmed up. I guess he's seen it many, many times before, but even in my condition I think it helps to see the comic side of this, almost a caricature of a sorely sleep deprived woman dragging herself up a street towards a clinic for insomniacs before she collapses into sleep on the doorstep and nobody can rouse her for Adam.

I'm re-reading a book I wrote for Andy six years ago (I've mentioned this book before), exactly six years on from the day I wrote the entry. Yesterday's entry I wrote out a list that we'd made in Guatemala originally, saying all the things we wanted to do together one day. I was surprised that one of the things I wrote was 'have babies together' - surprised I suppose because I wrote this after only really being in one another's company for a few weeks. But that's certainty for you; that's love. We were completely unaware those six years ago as I scribbled out those pages down in Brighton what was coming for us. How much joy we had ahead of us and, on the flipside, how much pain. I never thought it possible to fit such extreme intensity of emotion into married life in such relatively few years.

Anyway, enough is enough is enough. I could go on like this all night, writing about the disparate thoughts that pop into my head. But I won't. I'll head back to a place which now, after a break away, feels more welcome.

The Magic Bean

2010-06-14T21:37:00.001-07:00

5 am. Been awake since around 2, which gives me the grand total of about 4 hours sleep in the past two nights so wonder how I will cope with this lack of sleep today. I certainly didn't cope with it well yesterday.

There's been one important person that I've mentioned very little over the past few months - a person that I shall meet in around six weeks time and who is, for now, relying on me in very many ways. We don't know if we're having a girl or a boy, so let's call her/him the magic bean. Because I have two other children which keep me incredibly busy, I feel that Magic Bean's had a fraction of the look in that either Maya or Lily did before they came out to meet us. Magic Bean doesn't get the yoga, the massages, the dedicated music playing time...it just muddles along and gives me the most almighty kick now and again as if to say 'Oi! Don't forget about me!' In fact, the night before last it played a little joke with me and gave me contractions all night, so intense that I had already mentally prepared myself for the fact I would have a 6 week premature baby. By about 5.30 in the morning the contractions had passed, but I was well and truly exhausted for Maya's birthday.

Speaking of Magic Bean, I must be really honest and confess that there are times I have thoughts along the lines of Can I really cope with three children...what were we thinking...what kind of a mother will I really make after four years of intense sleep deprivation...Sometimes it all feels a little scary and a little insane and before these unhelpful thoughts start whirring out of control I have to bring myself back and tell myself OK. You are tired. But this baby is coming no matter what and s/he is a blessing and you will be FINE. Time and again, I have been amazed at what the body is able to cope with.

I've handed over more money over the past years to people claiming they can help me than I care to think about (not that I resent this - I've had to, and shall continue to keep trying things). Tomorrow I visit the next person in a long line of potential magician's. He is called Dr Guy Meadows and differs from the other's in one significant way: he specialises in insomnia. He just kept popping up again and again over the past couple of weeks and when Andy was in Mozambique with work, it even transpired that we'd been in contact with him independently of one another to make enquiries (not knowing Andy was abroad, he must think we don't communicate...). Anyway, I don't and can't see him as the answer to all my problems but of course I go in with hope all the same. His approach is based around techniques such as minfulness, CBT, acceptance and meditation and I must admit I'm intrigued. Andy commented rather wryly 'I challenge him to crack this nut.' Yup, it'll be a challenge for him. But from reading the testimonials on his website, he's cracked far harder nuts than me in his time, so we shall see.

What I hope for is that he is able to give me a new way of approaching my sleeplessness. And for me to feel better able to cope with the arrival of this wriggling little Magic Bean, my new baby.

The sleep of a child

2010-06-10T22:23:00.000-07:00

I think I have written a blog similar to this, somewhere back yonder in sleep-deprived blogosphere...but no matter.

First off, here's what I'm listening to right now, my song of the very early morning:

Spiegel im Spiegel by Arvo Pärt.

Utterly gorgeous and uplifting. Click here to listen to it.

Every night before I go to bed, I creep into Maya and Lily's bedroom. Not that I need to creep - this is the time of night they are in their deepest sleep and very, very little would wake them I'd imagine. I sit with them for a few minutes...smooth a sweaty curl away from a forehead. Rearrange a discarded blanket. Tuck a teddy back under an arm. Watch their small chests rising and falling with the smooth regularity that heavy sleep brings.

It gives me so much pleasure to be there. Knowing that they are safe. Knowing that they are loved. Knowing that they are asleep.

And knowing that three decades ago, that was me. A small Rebecca, lying somewhere in a cot, ensconced in a dreamworld of houses with dolls and endless days and songs with the texture of the sky.

Anybody out there?

2010-06-06T22:58:00.000-07:00

A good friend recently sent me a link for a web based tv channel which broadcasts programmes on the themes of consciousness, healing and psychology. Anyway, I found a programme in which Dr Guy Meadows was being interviewed, the director of the London Sleep Clinic. It was pretty interesting to hear his take on insomnia. He has helped hundreds and hundreds of people lead a normal life again (including the presenter who, after 10 years of poor sleep, was "cured" after a single session with him.)

What I took from watching the interview was a simple heartening fact which helps in some way to face the day after yet another night of very little sleep (2? 3 hours?).

Three quarters of the people Dr Meadows sees are women. Of these women, roughly half of them stop sleeping after they hit menopause. And the other half stop sleeping after the birth of their first child. I felt like he was describing me exactly - that up to that point in their lives, sleep had not been an issue. But along comes a small person who naturally disrupts your sleep patterns and then even when they start sleeping through the night, you don't, because all it has taken is a night or two of 'worrying' about sleep and not getting enough to trigger something more enduring.

The reason that I find this so comforting is that there have been many, many times when I wonder what on earth is wrong with me, if I'm completely abnormal or quite simply losing it. But the fact that Meadows treats so many women in a similar situation to me suggests that I don't necessarily have deep-rooted pyschological issues that need resolving before I can sleep again (phew!) and that there are many, many people out there going through something similar to me. You see, I've never met anyone who's been through this before and I don't think I really want to either. But it's good to know I'm not alone.

The new butterfly

2010-06-05T10:18:00.000-07:00

'The breakdown of the caterpillar's old system is essential for the breakthrough of the new butterfly.'

Barbara Marx Hubbard

I'm not there yet. I'm not nearly there yet. I know I've talked on and off over the months (or years) about this issue of acceptance and whether I have it in me to accept this is something that I may have to deal with for years to come - perhaps for the rest of my life. In accepting, I may let go of whatever it is that is chaining me to insomniac patterns... but ay, there's the rub. Because how do I fight and accept at the same time? How does one truly find the humility to accept what they loathe? And in the middle of all this muddle, how does one get on with the daily tasks of raising children, relating to people and setting one foot in front of the other?

I've had other challenges in my life. But nothing comes even vaguely close to this, not least for its ripple effect that pains me more than I can express here. The above quote is one system of thought and would suggest that change is possible. Perhaps if I am prepared to divert the flow of water down its familiar old channels in my life, something would give. Here's an example: I get up in the morning after having slept 2 hours. And this is what I do: I take out a paintbrush and I paint invisible walls around myself, purposely leaving out a door to let others in. This knee-jerk reaction to lack of sleep comes as naturally to me now as breathing.

But take the same scenario, and instead of painting these walls, I take a deep breath and I smile and I say alright, I have not slept. But that is OK and another night I will sleep. For now, I must count my blessings and I must continue with the day. And I go downstairs and I hug my husband and children.

Will this ever come? Will I ever find the strength for this? I believe that the day I can answer yes to these questions is the day that the new butterly will start to emerge.

The double life of Rebecca

2010-05-30T19:00:00.000-07:00

I'm definitely not militant about not taking drugs, I'll just generally go for the natural healing option if I think it's available, for my children as well as myself. But if someone were to offer me some very strong drugs right now to knock me out, which did no potential harm to my unborn child, I would glady take them. In fact, I'd pay alot of money for them. Sadly, they don't exist.

So. Here I am. Again. This is such familiar territory to me: the dark, quiet space downstairs in the middle of the night. I put the sunlamp on rather than the bright glare of the kitchen light (the sunlamp, as it's name would suggest, stores up light from the sun during the day and then sends off a dull orange glow at night) and make porridge. It's always too stodgy as I can't see what I'm doing really well, but there is something strangely comforting about stodgy porridge in the middle of the night.

Andy's back from Ghana now and it's amazing to have him home, but the only face I've been able to turn to him so far is one of weariness and frustration and not nearly enough smiles. Yesterday morning when I came downstairs after a long night, Maya and Lily shrieked 'Mummy!' over and over again as they clambered over me. On a 'normal' morning: the most heartwarming sound imaginable. On a 'bad' morning: too loud. Too piercing. Too discordant with my fragility.

And this is just it. I am leading a double life. That film, The double life of Veronique, I can't even remember exactly what it's about, but the title resonates deeply with me. I am leading a dual existence. I never know, and people around me never know, when I am going to turn sunny heads to them, or its darker counterpart of tails. The balance has definitely been tipped, for whatever reason, firmly in favour of tails over the past month. I think I manage to maintain an emotional equilibriumwhen the scales are tipped the other way, even if ever so slightly. But if I have more nights 'on' than 'off' during the course of a week, that's when reality, or what I'd always imagined to be my reality, becomes more blurred around the edges and my coping mechanisms start eroding.

So. What to do to help the double lives of Rebecca peacefully co-exist? Answers on a postcard please. Address:

Rebecca Narracott

Sleepyville

Somewhere in the middle of the night

TW1 SOS

What the night brings

2010-05-26T22:34:00.000-07:00

On a day off, as it were, the last thing one wants to do is sit and obsess about possible causes and solutions. One wants to simply enjoy this blissful energy, or not even energy - just normality that has suddenly graced your life.

So that was my day yesterday: not being grumpy, taking Maya to school and discussing the birds and trees and flowers (and cars) on the way, feeling genuine excitement and joy at welcoming my mother and Peter, the travellers, back home after all this time and pouring love into the preparation of their welcome dinner.

And today? What will today bring, I wonder? Been up since 2 am - so tiredness, for sure. Here are my challenges which one day I hope to have a handle on:

How to live in the present moment whilst feeling so exhausted.

How to not long for the day to be over and wishing for all the promise of tomorrow but just to breathe the now in and out, in and out.

And How to say to myself when I wake in the night - Ah, I am awake - and then turn over and go back to sleep. Rather than say - Oh no, I am awake - and then turn over and take the hand of the long, lonely night.

Midnight murmurs

2010-05-24T16:41:00.000-07:00

00:50 am
Have been lying in bed for two hours and forty minutes and sleep's not coming. Normally, my best quality sleep is the first part of the night but either a)this will be turned on it's head tonight or b)I will not sleep at all.

Towards the end of last week, I had 2 nights of blissful respite. Here are a few things I did during this respite:

went to the pub listened to live music had breakfast in the garden and actually spoke to my husband over this meal walked along the thames from Datchet to Eton along a path brimming with wildflowers and buzzing with dragonflies lay in a field of buttercups in the warm evening sun went to the theatre ate ice cream laughed smiled felt like a human. Felt. Like. A. Human.

During these couple of days I wrote in my diary alot and felt lighter, stronger, calmer and far better equipped to deal with these 'bouts'. But now here I am just a few days on, scrabbling around in the dirt to find some of those pearls of strength I thought were mine and I just can't find them. Anywhere.

The only thing I know right now is that I don't know anything. I don't know why I'm not sleeping. I don't know what to do about it. And I don't know how long I can keep going on so little sleep.

Andy is in Ghana at the moment with work and I know he doesn't feel like this because he is my rock, but I'm just so glad he's not here for a little while so he can have a break from all this. I'll probably never really know exactly what this does to him, but I know it's not good or right or fair. Six years ago today (or yesterday - May 24th), I started writing what would eventually fill an entire notebook and it began something along these lines: 'My dearest Andy, this will probably be the longest love letter the world has ever known...'. Funnily enough, I wrote those words from Twickenham which is where I am now, and even though we'd spent the equivalent of just a few weeks together, I was waiting for him to come back to me from Guatemala. Which I knew he would. I knew one day we would marry, that we would have children together and that he would be the love of my life. And I still know that. So there...my previous paragraph was not truthful - this is something I DO know. And this brings me greater comfort that anything else possibly could.

Ok, now that I'm feeling less unhappy about the fact that I'm not asleep, I can warm to this subject and acknowledge how that paragraph was wrong again. I DO know that I am very, very lucky to have the support of other friends and family who have been amazing. What if I were a single mother with little or no support network? I'm sure it happens.

And the day after tomorrow, my mother returns from her two and a half year African odyssey and will be staying with us for a while. I'm sure this will help me, even if not on the sleep front, just on the practical level of tasks which when I'm so sleep deprived feel insurmountable. Even something as simple as getting the girls changed or taking Maya to school. Speaking of which, if I don't sleep tonight, she's not going tomorrow as it's not safe walking along the road with them when I'm in that condition. And alright, Maya loves school but it's OKAY if she misses a day. There's no point beating myself up about it. So the day might drag, but I'd rather the day dragged than I was putting my children at risk along a busy road. I know that sounds quite dramatic, but that's honestly how it feels sometimes.

I've been down here nearly an hour now and feel much better. Or at least, much calmer. Think I'll go and give the shut eye another go.

3.30 am ramblings

2010-05-18T19:29:00.000-07:00

3.30 am. Not sleeping. Have been awake a long time. Tried deep breathing, Reiki, taken more Bach's remedy.

You know when the weather is really, really hot and people look up at the sky each day, wondering when it's going to break. That's what it feels like for me at the moment - every day, I think, this might break tonight. The thought makes me so happy I almost forget to feel so terrible.

It is, Andy tells me and I tell myself, a 'blip'. And blips, I suppose, can last anywhere from a night or two to a.....fortnight? Who knows. There's no rules in this game.

It's very dark outside but the birds have started to sing away outside. I wonder how much sleep birds need? Or any animals for that matter.

What I would love; what I would really, really love is for inspiration to suddenly strike. To think of a more creative way out of this scrambled egg mess of constant exhausation I've dug myself into. Because that's what I've been thinking recently - that the only thing that's going to save me from this is creativity; thinking of something truly new. That's what makes me smile during the day when I'm feeling terrible: reading something that touches the right side of my brain; Maya saying something with the beautiful wonder of a three year old (yesterday: Mummy, the clouds are chasing us); sitting down at the piano and as my fingers stoke the familiar old keys, feeling a tension release within me.

I wish I could feel this calm and resigned first thing in the morning. Really, I feel fine now. There have been a lot of tears in the mornings recently. I put my head against the kitchen cupboard and one fat teardrop falls into my tea - splosh - and once the first has come it's hard to stem the rest and there they are, on the counter top - splosh - on my spoon - splosh - and into my cereal - splosh splosh - and I wonder if they'll make the milk taste salty.

Anyway, enough words from me. Over and out. I shall head upstairs and meditate and see what that brings.

Saluting the Sun

2010-05-18T01:15:00.001-07:00

Last night at my (pregnancy) yoga class, during the final relaxation (which is my favourite part when I'm feeling this tired!), the teacher played the most beautiful music. It was a single female voice, so clear and strong, accompanied by a simple Indian flute melody. The image it conjured up for me was of rising at dawn and giving thanks to the new day.

This made me think of the months I spent in Guatemala, when I'd go to bed early and then rise with the sun. I'd climb up to the flat roof each morning and do yoga as the sun rose beyond the lake, slowly slowly pouring her golden calm over the volcanoes and the villages dotted around Lago Atitlan. This is the only time in my life when I have practised sun salutations physically to the sun and this experience will never leave me. Just thinking about this last night brought with it an acute sensation of longing. What would I give to be able to experience this kind of energy once again in the morning? A great deal. For the meantime, I need to trust that it will come again.

Feeding the condition

2010-05-17T10:41:00.000-07:00

Physically,this is as bad as it gets: dizzy spells, nausea and a complete inability to talk - I haven't answered the phone once today.

Last night, I had an interesting dream. I was walking up a spiral staircase outside a house and the stairs were decorated with balloons and pot plants. Initially, I felt terrified and I knew it could have led to my sleep paralysis, but I also knew I was dreaming and managed to calm myself down and tell myself 'It's ok, you're dreaming which means you're asleep - so that's good. Just stay with it.' I continued walking up the stairs and the temperature changed gradually from tropical hot to very cold, but I felt myself relaxing and started trying to look in through the windows of the house, feeling a need to explore and find out where I was. But at that moment, the dream dissolved and fizzled away like a diver breaking through the surface of the water and I found myself awake and annoyingly alert. But I would very much like to re-visit this place.

I've been thinking quite alot about the quote I posted in my last blog, about putting insomnia on a pedestal, and have considered a comparison with a new born child. A baby needs warmth, it needs to be given attention and constant feeding. So too with isomnia: in order for it to survive and to thrive it must be fed. And this feeding can take the form of obsessing about it, talking about it, seeking out solutions for it or even thinking about it. This is why it's such a self-perpetuating issue; a cycle that's so very hard to break. Because insomniacs know there's a problem and naturally they want to remedy it. But in doing so, are they perpetuating it? Even this blog...by writing this am I feeding the baby and keeping it alive. Or should I call it the monster?

Insomnia on a pedestal

2010-05-16T09:45:00.000-07:00

"If you ask a normal sleeper what they do to sleep they will tell you they do nothing. If you ask an insomniac they will give you a list as long as their arm - and here lies the problem. Most of the clients who come to see me are running several miles a day to tire themsleves out, have not touched caffeine or alcohol for months and are religiously bathing in lavender oil, drinking warm milk and listening to relaxation CD's - only to then not sleep. All of these actions only help to put insomnia on a pedestal and strengthen it."

Dr Guy Meadows, London Insomnia Clinic

Lily

2010-05-13T12:06:00.000-07:00

This is my beautiful daughter, Lily, who turned two today. The day dawned bright and green and alive but instead of feeling joyful, all I could do this morning was cry tears of complete and utter exhaustion and frustration.

However.

As is always the way, I managed to get on with the day (with two little girls to care for, there is no alternative, and this is good as I can only brood for so long.) I baked a carrot cake which we decorated with flowers from the garden. We blew up balloons. Unwrapped presents. Burned some jasmine incense. Welcomed a few dear, close friends to celebrate with us. Ate cake and strawberries and cheese straws and drank roobois. And here's what I realised:

That even though I am the only person that can help myself as far as my insomnia is concerned, I also can't underestimate how much it helps me when I'm feeling down to have company. It's something I fight, I think. I feel like such terrible company when so shattered and the last thing I want to do is subject others to my less than lively form. It is, of course, easier to be with nearest and dearest than people I know less well when I feel so atrocious as I don't need to explain myself - they just understand. My brother, for example, lived with us for a short spell recently and it felt really, really good having somebody around to chat to, helping to pull me out of what potentially could have festered into a darker mood. The girls are amazing - they are tolerant and accepting of me whichever way I am. But they are not adults, and sometimes I need more adult conversation than what I get.

I think it's helpful for me to acknowledge this - that when I feel low after a bad night (or several bad nights), whilst I might eschew contact with other adults, it is more often than not actually what will ultimately help me and possibly u-turn a brewing black mood.

But back to Lily, my gorgeous daughter. She makes me happier than I can express. I want to hold on to these precious days when she is little and etch frames around the memories I have of special times. Here are a few of these snapshots from today:

~The corner of Lily's mouth turning up with excitement as her big sister fetches her first present to unwrap~

~Lily looking pretty in her new pink and orange checked dress~

~Lily blowing out the two candles on her cake~

~Lily in her blue Vietnamese pyjamas, rushing up to give me a kiss at the end of the day, her little rosebud lips puckered~

Happy Birthday Lily. I'm sorry your Mama's such a zombie sometimes.

~

Lessons

2010-04-24T10:43:00.000-07:00

The breeze at dawn has secrets to tell you.
Don't go back to sleep.
You must ask for what you really want.
Don't go back to sleep.
People are going back and forth across the doorsill
where the two worlds touch.
The door is round and open.
Don't go back to sleep.

Rumi

I thought the above quote was quite appropriate for me - that until I listen to and really hear what secrets the breeze has to tell me, I won't sleep soundly. In other words, until I take on board the important lessons this experience is gently trying to teach me, nothing will change. The ebb and flow of my sleeplessness will continue. I believe that, I really do.

Sometimes I feel like I'm passing through the door and gaining a greater insight into why I need to go through this. Other times, I feel as though I am standing on a distant shore, hollering for anybody to hear me. But that's probably just it - this isn't up to anybody else to 'hear' me or to help me. It's up to me. Only me.

Only I can turn this around.

Tendencies

2010-04-03T22:16:00.000-07:00

Our natural tendency is to to try to resolve a problem by focusing on it - analysing it to death, trying to get to the bottom of it, working out what might have caused it, compaining about it, worrying about it, talking it over with friends - but this means that we hold on to the same old vibration. We affirm, over and over again: 'I have this problem or issue.' And so the world continues to mirror that belief back at us.'

Gill Edwards

I can identify with this 110%. I have torn this insomnia to shreds, stuck it haphazardly back together again, streched it, condensed it, put it in the dock, brought it back down again again and thrown my arms around it....you name it, I've done it. And each time I think I'm closer to understanding it, it takes a swing at me which leaves me winded. But try as hard as I might, I can't leave it alone. I can't just let it be. Even though I know that there is a great deal to be said for Gill Edward's words.

This law of attraction has come up several times over the past few years, the idea that the thoughts, feelings and emotions we emit out to the world can only act as a mirror, with a beam of positivity or negativity reflecting back to us - like attracting like. But of course there's a big challenge here: to not dwell on one's problem whilst receiving the support that one needs. I have come to firmly believe over the past year that the ability to heal and to change lies within me, nobody else. But I also know that I wouldn't be able to set this change in motion were it not for the support and acceptance of those around me.

Treacle

2010-03-30T02:26:00.001-07:00

This sensation of wading through treacle was one I'd well and truly hoped was behind me. But here I am, back at the page of my insomnia blog. Wishing I wasn't. But at the same time, it's like re-visiting a familiar old friend. This friend has played an enormous role in my life over the past couple of years. I hadn't missed them in their absence, yet their presence is an important outlet, allowing me to be open and honest and, in return, offering some kind of solace whilst I wade through treacle.

Since returning from India almost four months ago, the quality and quantity of my sleep had radically improved. But then, two weeks ago, I inexplicably stopped sleeping again. I am five and a half months pregnant and have two gorgeous little girls under four and I am - in a word - exhausted.

I recognise some of those patterns that I thought I'd 'put to bed' creeping back into my life - being utterly foul in the mornings, pacing downstairs at 4am and the panic switch activating itself when I wake up in the night to name a few. Perhaps this is just a blip. Or perhaps my insomnia has re-introduced itself into my life for a reason, and until this is addressed, it'll just keep coming back. I hope that, with the help of this blog, I shall be able to understand it better.

On a more positive note, spring is here. This is by far my favourite season and it is such a joy to witness the natural world unfurling and coming alive after such a long, unforgiving winter, particularly as we missed it last year whilst in India. The one good thing about being downstairs at 4am is that the birdsong is a loud, melodious cacophony and they seem more alive at this hour than at dawn even. At least this helps me to feel more alive and keep the treacle at bay.

Contrasts

2009-12-16T06:24:00.000-08:00

Continuity gives us roots; change gives us branches, letting us stretch and grow and reach new heights.

Pauline R. Kezer

This time two weeks ago, I was in warm, boisterous Bangalore wearing skirts and t-shirts and staring nostalgically up at swaying palm tree fronds, knowing that soon this would all come to an end. Now, here I am in 0 degrees Basingstoke, watching as the slow falls slowly outside. It all feels quite surreal; the transition so fast.

My sleeping patterns are often to sensitive to change. But I'm pleased to report that since I've been back in England, I've been sleeping okay. In fact, I feel like I could sleep alot more which is a good thing, as often I know that I need the sleep, but that doesn't mean I would be able to have it.

My nights continue to be nightmare-free, sleep-paralysis-free and filled with dreams, peopled with weird and wonderful characters and scenarios. But there's nothing strange about that.

So far, so good.

Moving on

2009-12-02T19:26:00.000-08:00

Death is an angel with two faces; to us he turns a face of terror, blighting all things fair; the other burns with the glory of the stars, and love is there.

T. C. Williams

And so life goes on without Akilesh. At times like this, I sometimes wonder why the world doesn't stop; why everyone's faces don't turn, for just a moment, towards the grieving family. To acknowledge their suffering at least, and then carry on. But of course the world doesn't work like that, because tragically there are hundeds of Akilesh's that make the transition each and every moment from this world on to something else. But is it tragedy? Or part of a bigger plan? These are big questions and for the moment, at least, it still hurts.

For the past few days, I've been feeling very low. Because of what has happened, from missing Deepa's presence, and from lack of sleep. Yesterday morning I went to have some Reiki with Priya and it really, really helped; to have sombody be present with me and to be present myself and allow myself to relax whilst gentle, loving hands are placed on me. I told her that my sleep over the past weeks hasn't been very good and how this has surprised me, considering the issues that have surfaced for me that I've considered to be highly significant. It's one thing to acknowledge issues, she told me, but quite another to truly process them. Have I processed what's come up? Have I allowed it to sink into every fibre and feel the anger and the fear? Probably not. I'm so 'English' in many ways. I'm so pre-conditioned to remain calm.

So, my next challenge: to find a way to channel the emotion that I have inside me.

Why?

2009-11-30T21:13:00.000-08:00

I'm at a loss to know what to write today, but I feel that I need to write something. To try and get my head around what has happened. To understand. To accept.

We found out yesterday that the lady who has been working for us in India, the wonderful person who has looked after Lily and allowed me to write in the mornings, lost her five year old son. It was all very sudden: he was healthy, and then he was gone. It's no surprise that I didn't sleep last night. My sleep patterns are so finely tuned to my emotional wellbeing and if something upsets or disturbs me, or even if I'm excited about something, I feel it ten-fold in the quiet of night rather than my body giving itself the rest it needs.

I feel truly devastated for Deepa's loss. And that suddenly everything has changed: the sound of her chappals padding towards our door each morning, the tapping, her quiet, unassuming, gentle manner and her complete and utter devotion to her family. Some things are impossible to understand; the more you try, the more confused they become.

But questions swim around my mind like goldfish with their large, unblinking, uncomprehending eyes. But perhaps they know, perhaps they know, just like my questions, that they're never going to get out.

Making tracks

2009-11-25T19:26:00.000-08:00

...our verb "to write" originally referred to a kind of incisive track-making.

Before going to bed last night, I thought it might be helpful to write down a 'plan' for what to do if I wake in the middle of the night and can't get back to sleep, as I have been doing this past week. The reason for this is because, try as hard as I might not to, my mind is so pre-conditioned to defer to the default reaction of annoyance (why am I awake again?) or mild panic (I'm going to be exhausted tomorrow). Obviouslly, it's not helpful feeling these things at 2/3/4 am in the morning.

So this is what I wrote in my diary:

1) Do the protective shield for Andy, Lily and Maya.

This is something the hypnotherapist taught me and I do it on myself each night in bed. You imagine a line being drawn around your body of bright light or energy, then envsiage positive thoughts and positive energy from outside seeping through the line into your body. Then you imagine all negative energy trying to get through but it is unable to because there is now a strong protective shield around you and all negativity bounces back to its source.

2) Breathing deeply and remaining in the present. Each time my mind wanders to what I did today or what I'll do tomorrow, bring it back to the now.

3) This is contradictory in light of number 2, but this just came to me without thinking about it: To imagine myself as a child, walking up the hill from the house we spent alot of time at in Switzerland, along a winding mountain path to go and fill pails with fresh milk. I don't know why I thought of that; something about envisioning the action of placing one foot in front of the other, upwards and onwards I imagined to be comforting in the small hours.

Anyway, so what happened last night?

When I woke up, I spent a long time on numbers one and two and never made it to number three because by then it was starting to grow light. Which was good, because it meant that I had got through more of the night before my customary waking. And I certainly feel better today.

Writing...making tracks....moving forwards...making progress.

Questions

2009-11-24T19:33:00.000-08:00

The less your mind rules over you, the more you can be connected to the wisdom and compassion of your heart.

Mynavati

Where, or where, has my sleep flown to? Certainly not my bed at night. This past week has been....tough. Five out of seven nights I've slept badly and, as I said in my last posting, such a week admittedly leaves me with a feeling of confusion as there seems no rhyme nor reason to it. The good news is that I am, I think, coping with lack of sleep better. I'm not prone to bursting into tears and have more of a handle on my emotions, as well as still getting out and about and making myself be sociable as this helps me to feel more normal.

I do wonder though, when the morning is cold and the sky is grey back in England, how I shall feel. Somehow, everything seems so much easier out here in India. I haven't done this for some time, but I'm sure if I read back to some of the early blog postings I wrote, I'd remember some of the emotional anguish that came with them and I find it hard to believe I can ever sink as low as I know I did. But at the same time, I musn't take anything for granted and keep taking a day at a time. Anything can happen, but let's just hope I have the courage to be guided by my heart and not my mind.

Restlessness

2009-11-22T19:24:00.000-08:00

Nothing has really happened until it's been described. Therefore, write alot of letters to your family and friends. Keep a diary. Don't let a day pass without recording it. whether something interesting has happened or not. Something interesting happens every day.

Virginia Woolf

Last night I slept better, but the three nights preceeding that I spent tossing and turning and skimming the worlds of hazy, half-remembered, senesless dreams. Why? Was it because these nights roughly coincided with the dawn of a new moon? Or, if I look deeper, because the dreams which I largely chose to ignore, were trying to 'tell me' something? Or was it plain and simple bad luck?

As I mentally and emotionally prepare myself to fly back across the seas away from India, patches like this when I don't sleep for a few nights leave me feeling confused. Because I like telling myself and others that I am so much better. But then I realise I'm missing the point. To be totally 'cured' of insomnia in eight months is alot to ask. But here's the thing: I can deal with this now. I'm not saying it's any fun, and I still have days that I'd like to stuff my head under a pillow and block out the light. But these days are fewer and I have, I think...I hope...stopped being a victim and taken more control of life and the cards that I'm being dealt. And that's a good feeling.

The Past

2009-11-19T19:35:00.000-08:00

The past is a foreign country; they do things differently there.

LP Hartley

These photos are of my dear grandparents, Eric and Christine, taken on their wedding day in 1944. They taught me so much, without trying to teach me anything - about humility, about gratitude, about the pleasure in small things, the importance of family and dealing with adversity, pain and grief. I miss them both very much.

My grandmother was one of these characters with infectious enthusiasm and zest for life. She never complained, she raised six children with no help and when she smiled, her whole face shone. She was very much of the attitude (and generation?) that you just had to get through problems....not talk about them too much, not wallow and definitely not dwell on them; the 'chin up' attitude. She was amazing - she could deal with this. But it's not for everyone. And it's interesting thinking about this kind of stance now, how in this generation we've almost gone the other way - counselling, self-help, talking talking talking through your problems and really feeling them.

Interestingly, my mother commented the other day how much my grandmother suffered. This was a surprise to hear. Certainly, from the perspective of a child and young person, she painted a picture of boundless energy and joy. But this was Christine's choice and her upbringing: to buck up and to carry on. And now I do wonder how much time she spent suffering alone, without feeling able to share what she was going through. Christine was an incredible mother - I can't begin to compare myself to her and that's not what I want to do. But I know that I don't want my own children to feel they can't talk about their problems, no matter how small. Imparting some kind of emotional intelligence to them is one of the most important things I strive for.

Bach

2009-11-18T19:17:00.000-08:00

'Disease will never be cured or eradicated by present materialistic methods, for the simple reason that disease in its origin is not material . . . Disease is in essence the result of conflict between the Soul and Mind and will never be eradicated except by spiritual and mental effort.'

Edward Bach

This morning I woke up in the same position in which I had fallen asleep. This is virtually unheard of for me. I am taking Bach Flower Remedies at the moment, specially formulated for me by Mother Tree. The first aim was for it to lessen my nightmares, which seemed to work as I haven't had a nightmare since (though this could be coincidental) and Priya has now added honeysuckle to help me sleep better in general.

Edward Bach had a bankground in medicine but started his new healing technique in 1930. He believed that early morning sunlight passing through dew-drops on flower petals transferred the healing power of the flower onto the water, so he would collect the dew drops from the plants and preserve the dew with an equal amount of brandy to produce a tincture, then further diluted before use. Definitely ground-breaking and unusual for his day.

I'll report back how I get on with Bach's flower remedies in the coming weeks.

Comfort

2009-11-17T19:28:00.000-08:00

You are a child of the universe,
no less than the trees and the stars;
you have a right to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to you,
no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.

From 'Desiderata'

So soon we're heading back to England soon, and I have no idea where we're going to live, what I'm going to do or how I'm going to feel. But this I know: that I shall be able to walk and walk, with the girls and alone. It's not so easy here in this city where the car rules and pedestrians are nothing. I miss walking, I really do - winter, autumn, spring, summer, it doesn't matter. It gives me inspiration, makes me feel lighter; brighter.

How will I sleep back in England? Only time will tell, but I feel it will continue to improve. And the infinite wisdom of the universe will help guide me.

Solo

2009-11-15T19:24:00.000-08:00

From a certain point onward there is no longer any turning back. That is the point that must be reached.

Kafka

I have to be honest and say that the hypnotherapy hasn't been what I expected, or perhaps where we've 'been' in the sessions haven't been what I expected. The hypnotherapist herself is great: warm and open and worthy of trust, yet I've left feeling that nothing has come from the session that couldn't have been achieved from just talking, rather than being 'hypnotised'. Initially, I found this disappointing because it is, of course, natural to hope that new insights will be gained from something like this. I have felt in the past few weeks that I am so close to a breakthrough in finding the root cause of my insomnia and thought....hoped....that hypnotheraphy could provide the necessary aid for me go that one step further. Because I thought I couldn't do it on my own.

But now I realise something. I can do this on my own. These past months in India, finding and intregrating Reiki into my life, have been instrumental in equipping me with the tools, the confidence and the self-compassion that have been vital for this journey I'm taking. Yet perhaps a part of me was still fearful in acknowledging this. Because out there on a clifftop all alone we're exposed to all the elements and it can be a daunting place to be. It's a massive step - firstly to know that the ability to heal and change comes from within, then to truly believe it and finally to live it.

Youth

2009-11-09T19:40:00.000-08:00

Being happy doesn't mean that everything is perfect. It means that you've decided to look beyond the imperfections.

Anon

On sunday, very briefly, I met a lady who exuded confidence, creativity, passion and vitality. She must have been in her late fifties but what lingered with me long after she had gone was that I had just met a young girl in an older woman's body. It was amazing - we spoke only for about twenty minutes but she was like a breath of fresh air: attentive, interested and interesting.

Oh, if the world had more people like this who had really come alive. When this is all over, when I am able to sleep peacefully again, this is something to aspire to. In fact, that's the wrong way round - it's already something to aspire to.

Travelling

2009-11-04T19:25:00.000-08:00

Just because there is no destination in sight,
that does not mean the road is not worth travelling.

Chinese Proverb

I love this quote. It has got to be one of my all-time favourites; my mantra even. When we lived in Godmanchester, we had a silk wall hanging I bought in China with these words written in beautiful Chinese script.

It makes so much sense to me, on so many levels. And as far as my insomnia goes, the destination had never been in sight. Okay, so I might, unsurprisingly, be hoping for improved quality sleep at the 'end' of all this. But there have been so many bends and curves along the track; speeding ahead only to hit a brick wall and then to go into reverse. But I do often think, now more than ever, that my sleeplessness has not been one of those things that has just 'come about'. It's been trying to tell me something. It still is.

Creativity and Openness

2009-11-03T19:24:00.000-08:00

It took me four years to paint like Raphael but a lifetime to paint like a child.

Pablo Picasso

What a different place the world would be if we could all be as creative and open as children. Sometimes, I try to come up with 'creative' solutions to my insomnia, like writing through the frustration or absorbing myself in an activity which will help me to feel more positive. As for being open, I suppose this is where trying anything and everything to get to the bottom of my sleeplessness comes in.

I've been through so many ebbs and flows with this - sometimes thinking that this is a problem I have for life and I just need to get on with things and deal with it as best I can. But then at other times I think NO! I am a healthy, thirty-two year old woman and it's just not normal to go through nights on end without sleeping. The latter state of mind is where I'm at now. It's not normal and there is, I now firmly believe, a reason behind the anxiety which is preventing me from sleeping.

I may never be the best sleeper in the world but I do believe I can reach the stage where sleep becomes less of an issue and more of a normality. So here's my pledge to myself: To keep being creative, to keep being open to everything that is suggested to me. And let's see what happens. I think I've nearly cracked something.

Within

2009-11-01T19:46:00.000-08:00

Man struggles to find life outside of himself, unaware that the life he is seeking is within him.

Kahlil Gibran

.....because it's within us all - the treasure, the dreams, the will, the spirit and the memories that can enslave us or, if we choose, set us free.

Feeling

2009-10-29T20:22:00.000-07:00

We can make our mind so like still water that beings gather about us to see their own images, and so for a moment live a clearer, perhaps even fiercer life because of our quiet.

WB Yeats

I've been doing Reiki for several months now as well as a great deal of questioning and soul searching. There are some strange, unsettling memories coming up for me at the moment which I'm trying to figure out if they're connected to my insomnia. I think they probably are, but how to reconcile the two? Since a few days ago, in the evenings I've been taking myself off to my room for about an hour and using the silence to take the Reiki a step further and work on various 'chakras' (energy points) which are related to different emotions. My hope is that, little by little, I'll start to get inside these memories and 'feel' them again. Someone once said that 'to feel is to heal' and I'm sure there's a great deal of truth in that. We are all very good at boxing uncomfortable incidents up, putting lids on them and storing them away. We are taught to 'deal' with things; to 'be brave'. But if we don't allow ourselves to express the emotions, painful though this can be, these memories will only come back to haunt us in later years.

Mother Tree

2009-10-28T02:17:00.000-07:00

Throw your dreams into space like a kite, and you don't know what it will bring back; a new life, a new friend, a new love, a new country.

Anais Nin

Since arriving in India back in March, here's how I've reached the stage I'm at now:

When I first got here, I made a pledge to myself: You have a serious problem sleeping (I didn't know why, but this is the way it was) and you must give everything and anything a go to improve it whilst in India. This is your chance. Acupuncture and the like were all very well, but I was effectively playing £45 each time I wanted a night or two of decent sleep. How could I possibly sustain that? And after all, what I really needed was for someone to help equip me with the tools to help myself - I could hardly give myself acupuncture when I needed to sleep.

So...I got to India. I went to see an Ayurvedic doctor who proposed a course of Ayurvedic cleansing and treatment yet without having asked me many questions about myself or looking at my case holistically. I'm sure this isn't necessarily representative of Ayurveda but in any case, I was put off. I did however try some Ayurvedic medicine to help promote sleep but this didn't work.

Then I went to meet a man who taught me some 'fail-proof' breathing techniques. He said even the worst sleepers in the world can't be immune to these if they do them every night...but they didn't work for me and after a month or so I stopped doing them.

Around the same time, I discovered a place called Mother Tree, a healing centre for women. Here I found a group of women who truly, genuinely and passionately want to help people and it's here that I've done art therapy, reiki and now hypnotherapy. The doors are always open and the key element of TRUST is present.

I feel like a walking dictionary for complementary therapies at the moment and sometimes the old me looks at myself now and gives a bemused chuckle. But these eight months in India have been more important for me than I can possibly express and it is Mother Tree that has set me on the right course for my journey of healing and understanding.

Being

2009-10-25T20:23:00.000-07:00

In sitting, just sit.
In walking, just walk.
Above all, don't wobble.

Zen Philosophy

It must surely be one of the greatest conundrums and challenges: how to be in the present. How to exist, breathe, remain and live in the present. Because it is human nature to remember the past and to imagine the future. And there's nothing wrong with this, but so often my mind is like a 'chattering monkey' (I can't remember who coined this but it's a good description). The times that I manage to still this chatter and breathe into the beauty of the present moment are like drinking pure, clear water.

I've done an awful lot of wobbling over the past few years since being entrenched in this insomnia 'problem', and not really heeded the lessons that it's been trying to teach me. But then again, you have to be ready to listen don't you and finally, finally I feel like I'm reaching that place. And only by coming to this place and really 'being' in it, no matter how painful it is, can I achieve release from it.

Einaudi

2009-10-24T07:34:00.000-07:00

Ludovico Einaudi is an Italian composer and pianist. I first heard him on the radio about four years ago and have been hooked ever since. I heard him in concert a couple of years ago and have a couple of his books too and try to rattle out his pieces myself on the piano.

Click here to listen to one of my favourites, Nuvole Bianche. Lean back, close your eyes and listen. Now, if this isn't a good way to start the weekend, then what is?

Brightness

2009-10-22T20:34:00.000-07:00

...to be truly radical is to make hope possible rather than despair convincing.

Raymond Williams

I felt as though I had myself more or less back on track so it was a shock when, out of the blue, I didn't sleep again last night. Or maybe just an hour or two. It's funny how the world looks like such a different place when I don't sleep. The thing I notice the most out here in India is that the sun just seems too bright.

Later this morning I'm going to meet a hypnotherapist to see if I feel sufficiently comfortable with her to go ahead with such treatment. I've always felt slightly nervous about hypnotherapy and have never had a similar treatment. The closest I ever got was going to meet someone about a year ago in England but I just didn't feel good enough about him to allow him access into my subconscious - which is a pretty big deal.

I was reading the other day in an article about a woman who suffered from sleeplessness and when she finally started sleeping well again she said that she felt she needed to 'catch up' on her sleep; to spend ages and ages sleeping. The good news for me is that I don't need this and I never have done. Even if I've had several days of terrible quality sleep I just need a single decent night to set me right again. So tonight is a night, still in the future, full of hope and possibility. It sounds like I'm putting pressure on it. Perhaps I am, but all I really want to do is lie down tonight, breathe in and out, in and out and remain in the present and drop off.

The Journey

2009-10-21T20:34:00.000-07:00

Once you learn what the disease or physical block has to teach you and you finally let go of the emotional issues stored in the cells, then, and only then, can real healing begin on all levels - emotional, spiritual and physical.

Brandon Bays

I'm reading a book at the moment called 'The Journey' by Brandon Bays. In short, she was diagnosed with a basketball-sized tumour in her stomach and required immediate surgery. However, just six weeks later she was given a clean bill of health without a trace of the tumour, and with no medical intervention. During these six weeks she went on a soul-searching 'journey' which ultimately resulted in emotional healing, allowing her to also be healed physically. Now, this is a very, very radical approach. What I have is insomnia, not a tumour and insomnia is never life-threatening. Some of the things she writes about are difficult for me to digest but, nevertheless, it is a very interesting read.

I am interested to see how her 'journey' will progress. At the moment, I'm reading about the period directly after the disappearance of her tumour. She is deciding how she can best use her experiences to help others to be healed, not just on a physical level, but also emotionally.

Present

2009-10-20T20:22:00.000-07:00

“You must live in the present, launch yourself on every wave, find your eternity in each moment. Fools stand on their island opportunities and look toward another land. There is no other land, there is no other life but this.”

Henry David Thoreau

When I go to bed at night, it's very normal for my mind automatically to hit rewind or fast-forward. Either events of the day begin to rise and fall involuntarily, or I think about what will be happening the following day. A trick I have learnt, or am trying to learn, is to keep my mind in the present which will ultimately, of course, facilitate sleep. When I find that I am no longer in the 'now', I try to gently bring my mind back by concentrating on the rise and fall of my breath.

Of course this doesn't always work - oh, if it could be so simple. But the past few nights this technique has definitely helped. Hooray.

Paralysis

2009-10-19T07:22:00.000-07:00

I've talked about my experiences before with 'sleep paralysis'. But what I wasn't aware of was that sleep paralysis actually IS the medical term - it was just something that had come to my head as the best way I knew how to describe and put it in a nutshell. Someone I have met also experiences sleep paralysis and she sent me the link for a Guardian online article entitled The waking nightmare of sleep paralysis. Here is an extract from it in which a woman describes what happens to her. It is almost exactly the same as how I experience it:

"I try to scream (though I have great difficulty making any sound), attempt to flail around, anything, to get the attention of my husband. It is a feeling of panic, entrapment and desperation so horrifying that I have difficulty describing its magnitude.

"If my spouse notices my discomfort and responds, in my mind it's never soon enough. One cannot simply tell me to 'wake up' and tap me on the arm. Often I need to be shaken somewhat to be fully present. At that point I wouldn't care if he slapped me hard as the terror of being in that paralysed state, totally helpless, is overwhelming. Knowing that it will end eventually is of no comfort. Every second is hell."

According to the article, the majority of people experience this only once or twice in their lives. If I'm going through a particularly bad patch of sleeplessness, this is the time I'm most likely to experience sleep paralysis, sometimes several times in a night. It's very scary, but having read the article and seen all the following comments, it's good to know that a) I'm not a fruitcake and b) I'm not alone.

Emergencies

2009-10-17T07:16:00.000-07:00

Nurture strength of spirit to shield your sudden misfortune.
But do not distress yourself with imaginings.
Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.
Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself.

From 'Desiderata'

They come in a crinkly, shiny silver packet and I can see that I have taken them just two times before. I truly didn't want to take sleeping pills - for me, this is the antithesis of how I believe I should deal with sleeplessness. But when I have barely slept for four nights on the trot, on the fifth night - like last night - I might think okay, enough is enough, this is an 'emergency'. And today I feel on top of the world. I'm not proud of taking them but there's also no point in beating myself up about it. After all, this is only the third time since my sleeping problems began that I've given in, the equivalent of once a year.

I needed today. I really needed it, to get out of my black hole and just physically get out of the house. To smile at my family and be there for breakfast; to enjoy meeting new people and to suggest things to do and places to go. This, after all, is ME. But then who is the person that can't get out of bed, that buries her head in her pillow and strains away from the light? She scares me sometimes because still, after all this time of living with her, I don't know how to deal with her. At least, not always, and particularly not after four nights of barely sleeping.

So, what's the answer? Just to keep going, to push through the bad times, embrace the good and, as someone far wiser than me said, be gentle with myself.

Sleep deprivation

2009-10-15T13:05:00.000-07:00

01:36 in the morning and ok, it's not all that late, but right now I don't know which space I'm occupying. Since arriving back in India three days ago I have slept very, very little and everything's starting to go quite blurry. I did a crazily intense session of yoga this evening in the hope that even if my mind wouldn't shut down, at least my body would. But to no avail. I feel more awake than ever.

What's another good thing to do in the dead of night when you just can't sleep? In the past few nights I've tried reading, eating carbohydratey-type foods, doing reiki, deep breathing and now this - blogging. Well, it can't hurt and maybe it will be some kind of release and help me to shut down. If only I could be like this laptop and I could turn off all the windows that are open in my head and put my mind 'to bed'. I am not stressed. I am so happy to be back here in India in this wonderful warm climate and to see the twinkly lights in the streets as Bangalore gears up for Diwali. I'm happy to be eating Indian food again, I'm happy that Maya is happy being back at school, I'm happy to be back in this country that has, in so many different ways, crawled under my skin. But I'm not sleeping. I'm staying stubbornly, steadfastly awake. I wonder if there is something I could write briefly here and now, at 01:50 that would act as some kind of meditative balm for me. Here we go, off the top of my sleepy head...

Here are some things that made me smile today:

* Picking Maya up from school. Her happiness to see me.
* Lily picking a flower for Maya in the park and presenting it to her; hearing her say 'flower' for the first time.
* Seeing Andy walk through the door after coming back from work.
* Lily coming down the 'twirly-worly' slide as Maya calls it. It was so wide and swamped her little body.
* Maya's jubliation at filling out her sticker chart.

It's easy to see a pattern here. This is my family making me smile. How about making myself smile? Now there's a challenge for a sorely sleep-deprived woman.

An English Autumn

2009-09-28T03:59:00.000-07:00

I long, as every human being, to be at home wherever I find myself.

Maya Angelou

Back in England for a couple of weeks, and my head is reeling a little from all the people I am seeing again and all the moving around. It's wonderful to be here, and to enjoy the beautiful shades and scents of early autumn, but I feel in the past week or so that I've been neglecting 'me' time that I've been building up over the past months - and this means Reiki, quiet reflection and contemplation and writing this blog as well as my little sleep book I write in every night to help clear any negativity that has built up during the day. Unsurprisingly, I haven't been sleeping well.

BUT - it's good to acknowledge this and be writing this now - to slow down a little and take each day at a time and, no matter how busy my day is, find time for this meditatative space. I'm reading an inspiring book about Reiki at the moment which is certainly helping and my brother gave me a wonderful little book filled with quotes he'd written out (one of which is Maya Angelou's above). I also had a good chat the other day with a lovely aunt of mine who is a Reiki master. I'll be fine, I just need to be present and enjoy this time back in England without letting it stress me out.

Sweet Dreams

2009-09-03T22:28:00.000-07:00

Sleep that knits up the ravelled sleave of care
The death of each day's life, sore labour's bath
Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course,
Chief nourisher in life's feast.

William Shakespeare, Macbeth

A couple of nights ago when I went into check on Maya and Lily before going to bed, I sat for a while on Maya's bed, watching as her chest rose and fell. She twitched occasionally but was sleeping deeply and sweetly and looked so peaceful. She's now three whole years older than the photo I took of her above when she was just a few months old, but Maya still has the ability to sleep deeply and soundly. When is it, I wondered, that we as adults lose the ability to sleep in this way? I suppose some of us never do. And although I have memories of sleeping poorly which stretch all the way back to childhood, I'm certain it wasn't always this way. I'm sure as a baby and young child I slept through all kinds of noise and disruption.

This week I've been like a yo-yo: decent sleep one night, terrible the next, decent sleep the next night, terrible again the next...Here's the good thing though: At one time, not so long ago, if I was exhausted I didn't want to see anybody and I couldn't face going out much. I would stay at home and try desperately hard to create a pleasant environment for the girls within the energy limitations I faced. But often my intentions would back-fire and I'd end up frustrated with the girls and frustrated with myself. Yesterday afternoon we visited friends and at one point, I thought to myself, hang on a minute - I feel pretty awful, right? But I'm still managing to talk to people quite normally and I haven't even mentioned the 'S' word. It's good for me - no, it's brilliant for me without a shadow of a doubt to break out of my exhaustion box. And as for the 'chief nourisher in life's feast', well, when I have a taste from this feast, no matter how small the morsel, I feel deeply, profoundly satisfied.

Magic, mystery and enchantment

2009-09-01T21:05:00.000-07:00

You must learn to get in touch with the innermost essence of your being. This true essence is beyond the ego. It is fearless; it is free; it is immune to criticism; it does not fear any challenge. It is beneath no one, superior to no one, and full of magic, mystery and enchantment.

Deepak Chopra

This is obviously far easier said than done; to get in touch with the 'innermost essence' of our being. I suppose what Chopra means is to feel truly comfortable with ourselves; to be fully at ease and at peace with who we are and what we believe. It also means there will be an absence of fear and for me, this is a very important concept. On this journey I'm taking to overcome my insomnia and understand myself better, I find that time and again what impedes me more than anything else is fear. It's strange - and I know this is something I've mentioned before - but I've never, ever thought of myself as being a fearful person. I've always been amongst the first to try something new, to bungee jump or parachute, to veer far from the beaten track. But of course, this isn't what he's talking about. Externally we can be adventurous but this doesn't necessarily serve as a mirror image for what is going on inside us.

Fear has all too often kept me awake at night, preventing me from sleeping. Fear has woken me up, fear has given me nightmares, fear has prevented some difficult memories from surfacing. The more I learn to control my fears, the more I will be able to draw from this magic, mystery and enchantment which we are all entitled to but we have difficulty accessing.

Growth

2009-09-01T07:19:00.000-07:00

Every blade of grass has its angel that bends over it and whispers "grow, grow".

The Talmud

The quality (and quantity!) of my sleep has dramatically improved in the past month or so, particularly since doing the Reiki course. There's no doubt it. So I was surprised last night when I didn't sleep all night (or very, very little). We'd had friends for dinner, eaten quite late and it was, for us, a late night. But even so, I did what I normally do at the end of the night, winding down, writing in my sleep book and letting go of the day. But still, sleep didn't come.

I can't remember when or where I first read this quote that I've written above. It was years ago. But what I do remember is that it literally stopped me in my tracks. Something about it spoke to me and resonated deeply; that we all have the potential to be more than what we imagine we can be. We have both people and unseen forces rooting for us and encouraging us to go that step further, to reach that bit higher, to grow that bit taller. I really believe this - that we are 'held' by something greater than us. But something else walks alongside this belief, something that can't be separated. And that is that I must trust. Trust that I really am being held, trust in the bigger picture and trust in myself. One night of not sleeping is one night of not sleeping. But tonight is a new night and it is full of secrets and promise. And if I don't sleep again, I need to use this as an opportunity to grow into something better.

Nourishment

2009-08-30T20:28:00.000-07:00

When from our better selves we have too long
Been parted by the hurrying world, and drop
Sick of its business, of its pleasures tired,
How gracious, how benign is solitude.

Wordsworth

Here in India, I have more time than I've had in years for myself - to be able to write my two blogs, to work on my novel, to write stories and articles. It's only a couple of hours in the morning but it's amazing how much can be squeezed into two hours. And as much as I love this and almost feel I need this now, when I write, my mind is busy and active: a bit like a person pedalling hard on a cycle who occasionally slows down but always maintains the momentum of movement. And this, I am discovering more and more, is why Reiki is becoming so important to me. In Reiki, I find stillness and peace.

No matter what time my day winds down at night, the penultimate thing I do is write in my small book and unburden myself of anything that has bothered me during the day, no matter how small and seemingly insignificant. Then finally, I turn the lights off and I give myself Reiki and I can almost feel a physical change come over me: my breathing slows down and I start to feel relaxed and tired. Doing Reiki before I go to bed doesn't guarantee me a good night's sleep, but it certainly increases my chances of having a reasonable night and more than that, helps me to let go of my day and everything I've experienced in it.

Giving ourselves time is often perceived as being indulgent and even selfish. We have families, friends, people relying on us for so many things and we ought to be giving, not receiving. Oughtn't we? No. Of course we must give, but how can we give to others unless we learn to receive nourishment for the body, mind and soul first? How can we love and nurture others unless we love and nurture ourselves?

Confirmation, sympathy, justification

2009-08-27T20:20:00.000-07:00

Who is entitled to write his reminiscences?
Everyone.
Because no on is obliged to read them.
In order to write one's reminiscences it is not at all necessary to be a great man, nor a notorious criminal, nor a celebrated artist, nor a statesman - it is quite enough to be simply a human being, to have something to tell, and not merely the desire to tell it but al least have some little ability to do so.
Every life is interesting, if not the personality, then the personality, then the environment, the country are interesting, the life itself is interesting. Man likes to enter into another existence, he likes to touch the subtlest fibres of another's heart, and to listen to its beating...he compares, he checks it by his own, he seeks for himself confirmation, sympathy, justification...'

Alexander Herzen

Herzen's final few words are interesting, that by writing our reminiscences we are in some way seeking confirmation, sympathy, justification. Since the age of around eight, I have written a diary, and I still do. It has always been intensely personal and through my teenage years I even, quite literally, kept my words hidden under lock and key. So why this sudden transition to the public realm? Partly 'moving with changing times' of technology. But it's more than that. I know not many people read this blog (and that's fine - I write this primarily for myself, to explore my insomnia and it's underlying root causes), but occasionally, if a few others read my words, then I can confirm my experiences with others, possibly evoke sympathy of some kind and sometimes even feel justification for those days that I feel I just can't cope.

The good thing is though, that in the past month, those days are decreasing. Perhaps at some point I'll even feel strong enough to let go of this blog, or allow it to morph into something else. If I think about when I first started writing this last year, most postings were filled with the desparate angst of a horribly sleep-deprived woman. And whilst some nights I still don't sleep, there are many on which I do. And each one of these days, the gratitude, joy and relief I feel is abundant.

Memories of mountain dreams

2009-08-26T20:31:00.000-07:00

Dreams are the mysterious language of the night. Each evening after the setting sun has beckoned the moon, a golden harvest is woven into our slumbering consciousness.

Denise Linn, from 'The hidden power of our dreams'

Last night I dreamt, as I very often do, that I was at L'Hermitage. This is a place I closely associate with both my childhood and my father and unlike other people, places, homes and schools, L'Hermitage was a 'constant' - more like a friend, and once enfolded in the smell of wood smoke, pines and mountains, I felt instantly comforted and more at home there than anywhere else.

A few weeks ago I talked about the drawing exercise I was asked to try out by Priya who gives me Reiki. She asked, very simply, for me to draw a picture of or for each close member of my family. I put my own slant on this and drew pictures related, in one way or another, with sleep.When it came to my father, I drew him in his bed in L'Hermitage, shouting out during one of the nightmares he often had. The nightmares were always the same: that he was being pursued by a gorilla and had to climb up a tree to escape from it. The truth is, I can't even remember if his nightmares disturbed me much as a child, but I do remember talking about them with my family. But in the opposite corner of this picture, regardless of my 'real' memories, I drew myself as a small girl, sitting on my bed, terrified by the shouting that came from upstairs in my father's room.

The reason I am mentioning this is less for the picture than for the room I drew myself in. This was the one downstairs bedroom in L'Hermitage and was dark, cosy and musty. I very often slept there with my sister or with a friend that joined us on our holidays and, as the years passed, the room started to take on its own character. The reason for this was because I dreamt more vividly in this room than I ever have done before or after. People often say it's normal to dream vividly at altitude. This may be so, but my dreams never took on a fraction of the intsensity that they did in this room. During the night I remember being scared by shady intruders, enchanted by magical beings and entertained by an endless, colourful cast of characters that peopled my dreams. These memories have no point to them - I'm not trying to draw any conclusions from them. They are simply that - memories. I suppose my dreams are something I'm becoming increasinly interested in at the moment as I'm reading a book called The Hidden Power of Dreams. Also, after several weeks of not remembering a single dream (which is very unusual for me), in the past couple of weeks they are back with a vengeance, coincidence or not.

Sound memories

2009-08-25T20:18:00.000-07:00

At that instant, I wondered intensely whether my now-dead father could experience this feeling; suddenly, it seemed to me that the entire world was like a palace with countless rooms whose doors opened into one another. We were able to pass from one room to the next only by exercising our memories and imaginations, but most of us, in our laziness, rarely exercised these capacities, and forever remained in the same room.'

From 'My name is Red' by Orhan Pamuk

A few fragmented memories:

* Me, aged around 7. Deep sounds of talking, like reverberating bass notes, coming up through the floor at night from a room below, disturbing me.

* Age 8. I am staying the night at my grandparents house. Because there are so many people staying that night, my cousin and I have to sleep in the sitting room. I can't drop off because the large ticking clock is disturbing me, so I drag it outside the room and close the door. In the morning, my grandfather is furious with me for having moved it.

* Age 11. At boarding school, sharing a dormitory with seven other girls. The girl in the next bed is snoring loudly and I can't fall asleep. After a long time of trying to sleep, I am so tired and upset that I start poking her. When she doesn't wake up, my sobs get louder and the housemistress hears me, drags me out of the room and chastises me for being selfish and disturbing others.

* The whole way through my seven years at boarding school, taking batteries from clocks in the middle of the room, putting them outside, stuffing them under pillows...

* Age 18, backpacking. If I am sharing a dorm room with more than one or two others, the only way I know how to fall asleep is with my headphones on, listening to music.

* In my mid-twenties, I learn a new way to block out noise at night, by squeezing my forefingers over the ear flaps.

* Age 27, I start wearing ear-plugs but their effectiveness is variable and if they don't work well, often lead to frustration and decreased chance of sleep.

* Age 28. I become pregnant, have my first child and start suffering from serious bouts of insomnia.

The link between all these memories is an obvious one: noise. Something about noise at night has always disturbed me, perhaps as a result of an earlier memory?

Timing

2009-08-23T22:07:00.000-07:00

'Everyone on earth has a treasure that awaits him,' his heart said. 'We, people's hearts, seldom say much about those treasures, because people no longer want to go in search of them. We speak of them only to children. Later, we simply let life proceed in its own direction towards its own fate. But unfortunately, very few follow the path laid out for them - the path to their destinies, and to happiness. Most people see the world as a threatening place, and because they do, they world turns out, indeed, to be a threatening place.'

From The Alchemist, Paulo Coelho

I talked about this a little yesterday, our beliefs manifesting themselves as realities. I remember when I first read this book, The Alchemist, many years ago, I was largely untouched by it. But when I came back to it a few years later, it made far more sense and it spoke to a different part of me that I had not been previously open to. I think sometimes we need to trust that things happen when they are meant to happen. The timing may not make sense till many years later but one day, we will be able to look back on both the good times and the bad and see our experiences cushioned in a greater framework; a larger narrative.

There have been so many times over the past few years when I've thought about my insomnia and asked the questions Why me? Why now? I still don't know the answer to this, but I'm closer than I was to it a year ago. And I hope that another year from now, I will be closer still to understanding why this has been a good time for me to not sleep. It sounds strange, because can there ever be a "good time" to not sleep? Ask me in the middle of a bad patch and I'll most likely say no, but when I emerge from a long, dark tunnel and feel a stronger person, something in me says yes, I needed this. Somehow, I really did.

Affirmation

2009-08-23T07:33:00.000-07:00

It's the repetition of affirmations that leads to belief. And once that belief becomes a deep conviction, things begin to happen.

Claude M. Bristol

If a child is told again and again that they are stupid, sooner or later the child will come to believe this. They will lose interest in studying and invariably not do well at school because if they believe themselves to be stupid, what is the point? Similarly, we are what we believe ourselves to be. For a long time now, I have believed myself to be an insomniac. I'm not saying this is why I've had trouble sleeping - obviously something had to come first and for me that was the slow erosion of my sleeping hours which resulted in my self-appointed label of 'insomniac'. I know this is something I've touched on before, but by believing and almost even unwittingly assuming myself to be an insomniac, I am fulfilling this prophecy: I believe therefore I am.

Recently, I've been repeating a positive affirmation (related to my sleep) numerous times whilst I give myself Reiki. It took some getting used to as it wasn't something I necessarily believed. But I made myself say it. A few weeks on, and despite the ups and downs I've had with my sleep, I am starting to say it with stronger conviction. That's not something conscious; it's just a small but very real shift which is chipping away at the layers of negativity that I've piled on to myself through months of telling both others and myself that I can't sleep. Yes, I can sleep. And do I sleep? The longer I affirm that I can, the more - I feel sure - the sleep will come.

Wholeness

2009-08-19T20:23:00.000-07:00

Dried mud flats, sun-warmed, have a delicious touch, cushioned and smooth, so has long grass at morning, hot in the sun, but still cool and wet when the foot sinks into it, like food melting to a new flavour in the mouth.

Nan Shepherd, Scottish Writer

During my Reiki weekend, when I was in the process of having my third attunement, something came to me that had been eluding me for some time - the name of the website that I am going to set up. It will be by women, for women, a community of people who love writing, who want s creative space but have managed to push this desire and need to the back of the mind in their busy lives. I can't wait to launch it (though it will be some time yet till I'm ready to do this.)

Arguably, it is my insomnia that has spawned this website. If I didn't have insomnia, I wouldn't be going to have Reiki treatment. A large part of Reiki is all about self-discovery and becoming whole. And how can we be whole without throwing our dreams and deepest desires out to the universe? If I wasn't having Reiki treatment, I wouldn't have taken the decision to be attuned myself to this ancient healing wisdom, and then perhaps this name wouldn't have come to me. What's in a name? A great deal.

Women's Writing Wheel.

A different lens

2009-08-18T20:25:00.000-07:00

When we face hard times, we think the way we see the world reflects the way it really is. This is a false assumption. We are simply viewing the world from our hopeless frame of reference. We are seeing things through sad and hopeless eyes. The truth of the matter is that when we begin to feel better, our world will look better. And when we return to a state of joyfulness within, our outer world will reflect that feeling to us.

Robin Sharma

Yesterday morning's quote talked about being able to overcome suffering. Well, I have to be really honest and say that I didn't really manage to overcome it all day. Maya and I spent too much energy fighting one another, I didn't get a chance to lie down at lunchtime, several people told me how exhausted I looked (I know they're well-meaning but it doesn't exactly help), I had a pounding headache and...well, you get the picture, I don't need to indulge in a full roll call of why-my-day-was-all-wrong. It felt as though the world was against me yesterday, but of course it wasn't. The world was rooting for me as much as it always does; because I was so exhausted, my world-view had narrowed.

It's only today, after a good night's sleep (yes, good, really!) that I see that perhaps yesterday was a missed opportunity. There's no point being overly hard on myself - it's not as though I lost my temper or shouted or 'fell apart', but even so, every day that I suffer, an opportunity is presented to me to learn from it, to grow, to choose my responses. Thankfully, going to yoga in the evening really helped (good old yoga!) and by the time I left, I felt greatly energised. I listened to the amazing Krishna Das on my ipod on the way home (listen here to one of his beautiful songs) and by the time I'd got back I felt much more rooted and relaxed and 'myself'. Thank goodness for yoga and Krishna Das.

Bedroom blues

2009-08-17T20:12:00.000-07:00

The world is full of suffering. It is also full of overcoming it.

Helen Keller

Not much sleep last night. Couldn't fall asleep...couldn't stay asleep...yep, one of those nights (no nightmares though.) The funny thing was that, even though I felt very relaxed last night, I had a funny feeling I might not sleep (I know, these feelings are not helpful, but they need to be acknowledged, even with the purpose of then letting them go.)

I think one of the problems last night was that I wasn't tired enough to go to bed. But I went anyway, because I felt I should since it was late. In hindsight, it might have been a better idea for me so stay up for another half an hour or so reading until I felt really sleepy. It's important for the bedroom to be a bedroom for me: somewhere to sleep, not somewhere to lie awake tossing and turning. So there it is, my own advice to myself: don't go to bed until you're completely ready for it.

In the meantime, I have to focus on today, not where I might have gone wrong last night. I find that if I have a lie down at lunchtime when Lily is sleeping (poor Maya is going to be watching another long episode of Dora the Explorer - not that she minds), I can normally face the afternoon a bit better. This morning I'm going to the creche - so it'll be good for me to have others to think about and to be able to kick start my day into something more positive than what it's been so far.

Mortality

2009-08-16T20:16:00.000-07:00

What life is for, who we are as human beings, why we are here...it is death that forces these questions on us. If we could live forever, there would be little urgency in finding answers. But the fact is that whatever our age or the status of our health, none of us has time to waste in learning what life is for.

In this sense, then, death is a friend - not the clinical experience of dying, but the fact of our mortality. We begin to take life seriously when we take death seriously. Otherwise, as Thoreau said, we run the risk of discovering, when we come to die, that we have never lived.

This realisation is the goal of life; not an end but a beginning. No pursuit can be more rewarding.

Eknath Easwaran

Many of the nightmares that wake me up involve, as nightmares often do I suppose, death. But what turns them from mere dreams into nightmares is the manner of death. And whilst I am not afraid to die, like anyone, I'd rather that I and everyone I know die peacefully.

I've always been fascinated by dreams, partly because my dreams have been so vivid for as long as I can remember. Over the years, I've kept pages and small books in which, intermittently, I've noted down my dreams from the previous night, wondering if they mean anything. Often I'm sure they don't,but sometimes they do and as I'm discovering, the role of the sub-conscious in our everyday lives is incredibly powerful. Which leads me to ask the question: why do so many of my dreams involve such violent deaths of the people I love? Am I scared of death? No. Do I have a morbid fascination with death? No. I don't have the answer for it yet. But I think, with Reiki and the questions I'm asking of myself at the moment I'm on the right lines. What I do know is that, as Thoreau points out, it's important to learn how to live. To really be alive. It sounds an obvious statement, but too many of us are sleep-walking through life. I know I often am. And without this experience of insomnia, I'd never be questioning many of these issues.

It would be too easy to just dismiss the nightmares I have and say ok, they're nightmare, everyone has nightmares, so what? But I'm seeing this as an opportunity presenting itself, by writing them down in the middle of the night and thinking about them the following day, I can start to see a pattern. And whilst my nightmares certainly don't wake me up every night and are not responsible for my sleeplessness as such, they are clues to the root cause of my insomnia. The deaths I witness, or the threat of deaths, represent a deep-rooted fear. Because, as I said earlier, nobody wants to die in pain. This fear is something that, in the coming weeks, I feel strong enough to confront.

Dreams

2009-08-13T20:47:00.001-07:00

I have had dreams and I have had nightmares, but I have conquered my nightmares because of my dreams.

Jonas Salk

Last night 'should' have been one of those nights that I slept reasonably: I'd done yoga, Reiki, had a good dinner, felt happy, calm and relaxed without trying to feel happy, calm and relaxed and had wound down before bed down to the point that both mind and body felt positively horizontal. But here's what happened: I got into bed and two hours later I was still awake. When I did eventually drop off, I had a horrible nightmare and had to wake myself up. This pattern continued throughout the night: fitful sleep followed by this 'need' to wake myself up. Why? And I know I've asked this before, but what would happen if I forced myself to stay asleep, to somehow work through this fear that has embedded itself deep in my psyche, personifying itself in the shape of the sinister figures of my dreams.

I am not a fearful person. Fear is not an emotion that I am that familiar with. But that is me NOW. 'I' am also Rebecca aged 25, Rebecca aged 14, Rebecca aged 3, Rebecca aged 6 months. All these different Rebecca's are in me; make me into the person I am now. We are one and the same. Or at least, we should be. But I am thinking more and more that one of these Rebecca's of the past has trapped herself in a web of fear and I need to help her be freed of this. This must sound very strange, but I'm exploring all possibilities. And other explanations of why a calm, peaceful mind can produce such gruesome nightmares and such angst when all is dark run thin on the ground.

The moment

2009-08-12T20:31:00.000-07:00

Now we will count to twelve
and we will all keep still.
For once on the face of the earth
let's not speak in any language,
let's stop for one second,
and not move our arms so much.

It would be an exotic moment
without rush, without engines,
we would all be together
in a sudden strangeness.

Pablo Neruda

Another very early morning start, and it feels as though my day will be a long one again. But I have smiled this morning, done some shopping with Maya, played with Lily and chatted to Andy. So things can't be that bad. There have been so many mornings on which I have felt unable to interact with anyone and smiling has definitely not been on the agenda.

I love Neruda's idea of everyone stopping for one second. I imagine arms outstretched to the sky, humanity convening in this one second which would seem like much longer because of its intensity and togetherness. I imagine that in this one second, we would all make sense of our existences and the secrets of our deepest desires would be unlocked. My deepest desire, by the virtue of the fact that I write this blog, is no secret. I want to sleep again - regularly, frequently, deeply. And I know I will. And then, anything will be possible.

Early morning

2009-08-11T20:55:00.000-07:00

Writing, when all is said and done, is an attempt to understand one's own circumstance and to clarify the confusion of existence.

Isabel Allende

Leading on from yesterday, well, I could really do with that coffee now. It's only half past nine but it feels like it should be nearing the end of the day already as I've been up since about 2am. Last night was the first night since my Reiki course that I really haven't slept. Not that I expected just because I have a weekend of Reiki and self-nurturing that all my sleeping problems will be over. Of course that's just not realistic. But now I need to try and break this pattern...What normally happens is that I fall asleep without too many problems but when I wake up in the night I can't drop off again. If I've gone to bed at a reasonable hour, it doesn't even matter if I wake up from 4am as I will have had enough sleep by then. But if I wake up much earlier, that's starting to push it.

Priya asked me to write down my dreams and my thoughts at this moment that I awake in order to identify some kind of pattern. But bizarrely, since trying to remember the dreams and thoughts, I literally can't remember a thing whereas previously my dreams were always so vivid. I don't know, maybe I'm trying too hard. Early this morning, after I'd spent a long time in bed not sleeping, something said to me very clearly Get up and write. I didn't feel like it at all, but I left the room, sat at the table and rather than really write, instead I listened to all the sounds of a very early morning in an Indian city and I wrote them down. I'm not sure what purpose it served, if any, but it definitely beat tossing and turning in my bed.

Coffee

2009-08-10T20:38:00.000-07:00

Coffee is the common man's gold and like gold it brings warmth and nobility to every man.

Abd Al Kadir, 1587

One of the things that was suggested to us on the Reiki course was, for twenty-one days, to try and free ourselves from our dependencies. Something that I have, over time, become 'dependent' on is a morning cup of coffee. Now I know there's nothing wrong with this; it's not as though I drink countless cups every day and on those days that I'm exhausted it definitely helps give me a much needed 'pep'. But the point is that I still feel that I 'need' this coffee in the morning, just like I 'need' to check my emails numerous times throughout the day (why?) and I 'need' to do various other things. So...for the next few weeks, no morning coffee. Let's see how I get on.

Life's Current

2009-08-09T20:18:00.000-07:00

La vie doit avoir un courant, l'eau qui ne coule pas se corrompt.

Life should have a current; water which doesn't flow becomes stagnant.

Lamartine.

During the thirty-two years of my life, this current has taken me on many journeys, some unexpected and surprising, some which I've been joyfully swept along with and some which have given me pain. At the moment, I feel as though life's current is taking me in another direction again. I think I needed to have had this time in India to set me on the right course: to write, to have some time for myself, to think about my next steps, to discover Reiki. And as for my sleep, it will come.

Comfort, Trust and Surrender

2009-08-08T20:22:00.000-07:00

Trusting, accepting and knowing. Not forcing.

Mynavati

A great deal has happened in the past couple of days and I don't know how to begin to do this justice by putting it into words. As far as my sleep goes, the night before last I slept more soundly and deeply than I have in months, maybe even years. Last night I was woken by very noisy barking dogs outside and also had a disturbing nightmare which left me unable to drop back off. But I still feel alright today and very, very excited about the past couple of days in which Reiki has been opened up to me. It's something I hope to be able to use for the rest of my life and I feel certain that it will help me to sleep soundly again. I'm not saying this will be the end of all my insomnia problems; like everything, it's a journey. But sometimes you just know when you have stepped onto the right bridge.

Comfort, trust and surrender. These are the three words that encapsulate my experiences of the past two days. In a way, I feel vulnerable but in a far greater way I feel very excited and very lucky.

Resistance

2009-08-05T20:21:00.000-07:00

Before you know kindness as the deepest thing inside,
You must know sorrow as the other deepest thing.
You must wake up with sorrow.
You must speak to it till your voice catches the thread of all sorrows
and you see the size of the cloth.

Naomi Shihab Nye

Some days, I don't know what I want to write about at all. I just open up the blog, see the blank entry screen in front of me and think, okay, what now? But I think it's very important for me when I'm feeling so exhausted to just write; write anything: at worst, it can do no harm and at best, I can leave the page feeling better and more able to face the day optimistically.

Yesterday came as a very welcome day of respite for me - whilst not brilliantly slept, I'd slept reasonably and as a result felt brilliant. I did some good work on my novel, played and painted and danced with Maya and Lily and in the afternoon took up the offer of visiting a girl I hardly knew at her house which I enjoyed very much. Surprisingly, when it came to my Reiki session, rather than looking forward to it as I do each week, I felt a great deal of resistance. I didn't want to be there, I didn't really want to open up to Priya and tell her about the low week I'd had and I almost felt dismissive of Reiki and what it stands for. I thought I'd lay my cards on the table and be honest and tell Priya all this. She responded by saying that the number of people who were about to do the weekend Reiki course who were suddenly feeling low or 'afflicted' by one illness or another was amazing. Many of us about to embark on our first Reiki attunement tomorrow are experiencing resistance of one kind or another. Our subconscious is fighting something because round the corner we may all be experiencing something significant.

I don't expect my Reiki attunement to be life changing. But it may be. I have no idea what to expect. But I know I feel ready for this, and tomorrow I will go in as open-minded as I can.

Giving

2009-08-04T20:23:00.000-07:00

For it is in giving that we receive.

St Francis of Assisi

If somebody had placed a brick in my hands yesterday morning, I have no doubt at all that I would have thrown it through the nearest available window. After four nights of very little sleep, I am not a happy person. But feeling unhappy and negative as a result of sleep deprivation- which is the opposite of what I normally am - only serves to fuel my despondency further, so frustrated am I for not being able to just snap away my headaches and the sense of dread at having to get through another long day.

Andy and I had a conversation about 'acceptance' which is a word that comes up a great deal in relation to my insomnia. Acceptance - whether I do or don't, can or can't, should or shouldn't accept. I have learnt that acceptance is a slippery eel - when I feel I have a grasp of it, a surge of fury threatens to engulf me and a voice says 'no, I do not accept this. This will get better. This has to get better.'

Thankfully, after the initially awful start to the day, things managed to go uphill. I played a little trick on myself and pretended that I wasn't feeling terrible; that I wasn't in the furiously destructive and self destructive mood I imagined myself to be. And I went off to look after the children at the creche where I do voluntary work on tuesday mornings. I thought that the only way I could possibly pull myself out of the hole that threatened to bury me was by giving something of myself, in some way, rather than staying at home and trying to write but most probably just lying miserably on my bed. The overriding memory of my morning at the creche was this occurrence:

A small girl, aged two or three, was sobbing uncontrollably. Human contact is thin on the ground there: there are dozens and dozens of children all looked after by one or two teachers. I bent down and picked her up and immediately her arms went around my neck and her head on my shoulder and she fell fast asleep. She was exhausted. That's why she was crying, but she couldn't very well stretch out on the ground to sleep. I stayed there for a while, just hugging her and letting her sleep and by the time I put her down again, she definitely seemed calmer.