Torn between two lovers. . .

I'm happy to report that my insomnia has greatly improved now that I have gone back on Rozerem.  I actually slept all the way through the night on one occasion last week.  Thankfully, my wife heard my phone buzzing as I forgot and left it on vibrate.  That is only the second time in the last year that I have slept until the alarm rang.  I used to be able to sleep well into the morning.  Waking was hard, as was going to sleep.  But once asleep, I could remain asleep for 8 to 10 hours.  Today, I count it as a great accomplishment to sleep till the alarm rings at 3:45 am.  That's sleeping in.

This morning I awoke at 1:15 or so.  I laid back down for an hour.  But then, back up.

Part of the struggle is that I've grown to love the night.  I love the silent solitude.  The time to meditate.  To reflect.  To write.

And yet, when I sleep through the night, I'm much more productive during the day.  It feels good.  

The ongoing struggle with sleep is a reminder to me that, though I generally feel much better than I have in the past, there is still that ever present issue of my mental illness.  Manic times come and go.  As does the depression.  But the sleep disorder has been a constant.  

"May cause drowsiness. . ."  Four of my primary medications carry this warning.  When my physicians look at the list of drugs that I am on, their reaction tends to be that anyone of them should be sufficient to knock me out.  It would a normal person.  For example, Rozerem is a melatonin based medication, but, according to my doctor, 12,000 times more potent than the melatonin you can buy as a sleep aid.  And it helps.  But that is on top of three additional medications, some of which are themselves prescribed as sleep aids.  My brain seems to be like the Everready bunny - it just keeps on going. . .

Would that I could consistently sleep through the night.  And yet there would be a loss if I did.  That's my time.  Its when I think, and write.  A sermon that might take a good portion of the day to write, flows freely and quickly in the night.  

But I realize that there is something else going on.  Its a matter of identity.  This time has started to shape my identity.  As desperately as I want to sleep, there is also part of me that refuses to give up this part of my life.  Its a bit of a conundrum.  

Acceptance is one of the things I am learning through all of this.  Take each day as it comes.  There is little to be gained by wishing a particular day was different than it was.  Some nights I sleep better than others.  Some nights I enjoy the solitude and time to reflect.

One of the things that comes with that acceptance, is that it is a hedge against depression.  A major part of depression comes from the desire that things be different than they are, and the disappointment that they are not.  

To accept each day as it unfolds is to receive it with gratitude.  And a grateful heart is not a depressed heart.  And so today, this night, I'll simply give thanks for this time.  Perhaps in a while I'll be able to rest some more.  Perhaps, not.  It is what it is.  And that's alright.