It's 4 am. I've been up for two hours now. Caught up on Facebook. I've surveyed the recent developments in the NFL with free agency now beginning. Enjoyed a fresh cup of coffee. Sat out on the porch listening to the sounds of the night. And now turn to writing.
This is typical. Everyday begins about 2 am. It doesn't seem to matter when I retire in the evening, the body clock kicks in at 2. Ever since I began working in Coeur d'Alene, which requires that I be on the road by 4:45 or so, I've had the alarm set for 4 am. I've yet to wake up to it. It is not needed. By that time my day has long since been underway.
It didn't used to be this way. I used to struggle to fall asleep, but once I did I went into a very deep sleep and then had a hard time waking up. I could do all nighters. My thought processes gained momentum as the day wore on. My most productive times were late into the evening. And if my natural cycle were followed, each night would get later. It was as though my body functioned on a 25 hour clock. If I went to bed at 10 pm and slept 8 hours, then the next night I would be awake till 11. Then twelve.
My first efforts to regulate this and help fall asleep were to walk myself to exhaustion. I became a fixture on the streets late at night in the towns where we lived. In Thompson Falls the local police officer would often pick me up and we'd visit for a spell. Turns out the reason that he was called out at that time at night is that a prowler had been reported. "Wait, is it me?", I asked. "Well, now that you mention it, yes. I finally got to the point I'd ask the dispatcher for a description, and if it matched yours, I tell them to let the one who reported the 'prowler' that it was just the Lutheran pastor out for his nightly walk." These walks would last a few hours.
Then I discovered Scotch. It was a mixed bag. I continued to stay up late, but to drink, not to walk. Part of this was because my wife was uncomfortable with my drinking, and would head to bed early to avoid it. And so, except for the times she would wake to the sound of the ice filling another glass and come out and complain, I would enjoy the freedom of solitary, lost in my own world of alcohol induced thought until the sedative effect finally kicked in and I would retire to the bed to sleep, or as my psychiatrist insists, pass out.
And so I became an alcoholic. I first realized that I was dependent on alcohol to sleep. But I convinced myself that I was not an alcoholic because at will I could go without drinking. This I did on Saturday nights so that the congregation would not smell alcohol on me Sunday mornings. But by Sunday morning, I started shaking uncontrollably. Detox.
Following chemical dependency treatment I was put on sleep medications. Everything changed. Now I could go to sleep. I just couldn't stay asleep. I've become an insanely early riser.
One of the considerations that I've explored with my doctors is whether sleep deprivation, and its negative effect on brain chemistry, is a major factor the the causation of my mental health condition. The brain is dependent on a health sleep cycle to rejuvenate its chemistry. Without a healthy sleep cycle that chemical balance necessary to good health is not possible.
Drug induced sleep, when possible, hasn't seemed to help. Some of the medications have been better than others. Ambien caused horrendous nightmares. Lunesta and others helped me sleep four to five hours, but without an extended release version, failed to keep me asleep. The best option, to date, was Rozerem, Its a melatonin based drug, which according to my psychiatrist is about 12,000 times as powerful as over the counter melatonin. It's the equivalent of a whole lot of turkey dinners, to be sure. But expensive, and after having to change insurance coverage, and being denied coverage for it, I had to go off it because I simply couldn't afford it.
What we are trying now is to rotate through a variety of medications, hoping that by doing so I won't become addicted to any, nor will my body habituate to them, thus destroying their effectiveness. Good idea, but I am up at 2 am.
And so I make friends with the night. I listen to the silence. It is a peaceful time. Its the new norm. My dog sleeps by my side in her crate, barely stirring anymore as she's become accustomed to my schedule. Even my wife, who has always been a light sleeper, rarely wakes anymore as I rise, shower, get dressed, and begin my day.
But as much as I've been able to adapt, it is as though I've lost a dear friend. And with any loss there is grief. And I pray to God, that if anything could be restored to health in my life, it might be this one thing. I close, remembering a song by J. S. Bach, "Come, Sweet Death", which in my heart, I change to "Come, Sweet Sleep" as a prayer:
Come, sweet sleep, come, blessed rest!
Come lead me to peace
for I am weary of the world.
Oh Come! I wait for you,
come soon and lead me,
close my eyes.
Come, blessed rest.
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