|What I did last night. It will be different tomorrow...|
Snap Dingy-dog, the guy on the corner, says the same thing, but his comment is more by way of self promotion of his home business.
I have tried the non-pill methods for my sleeping problem but none have worked. Warm milk, regular sleep patterns, no TV before bedtime, eating before six p.m., reading scriptures, picturing myself on an island, talking about myself and my accomplishments with my wife (puts her right to sleep) -- none of these serves.
Crystals, copper pyramids, chunky green sludge milkshakes.
Antihistamines sometimes work but they make my nose want to fall off.
My psychologist -- who, on Tuesdays and Thursdays doubles as my aerobics instructor -- told me that he focuses on a calming, soothing activity with the lights kept low before bedtime. He suggested that I do the same.
I had him record his personal stricture for a good nights sleep and put it on Youtube: Yoga is his favorite pre-snooze activity, which he does on a bamboo mat accompanied by a recording of soft pan -flute or Barry Manalow. Just before his bath (in luke-warm water laced with cucumbers and lavender) he takes melatonin and then dons his sleeping attire made of all-natural fibers and woven together by monks in the Amazon basin.
He then suggests a good breath from his abdominals. “Close your eyes and try taking deep, slow breaths, making each even deeper than the last. In through the belly and out through…“ I didn’t really hear the last part, but it sounded like he said “Connecticut“.
I have gone through all of the body parts I know, but nothing really sounds like “Connecticut“. Frankly, I really haven’t put a whole lot of thought into it because it reminds me too much of a modern dance class at BYU and a bad experience I had in the locker-room with a leotard.
Soothing blue lights are used -- like they do for the P.M. shift on the Starship Enterprise. This is all done before lying down. Once prone, he starts to tense the muscles in his feet. He holds for a count of 11, and then relaxes. He continues to do this for every muscle group in his body, working his way up to his head. This takes him three hours.
When I asked what he does with his kids while he is… “preparing for slumber” he stared at me blankly and said “I don’t have kids. Who can sleep with kids? He said. “With kids around, you should load up on Dozoid" (a name I made up).
The common side effects listed of “Dozoid” include constipation, dry mouth, nodding off at work, trouble concentrating, dizziness, unsteadiness, allergic reactions, facial swelling, memory lapses, hallucinations, complex sleep-related behaviors like sleep-walking, sleep-driving, dyslexic-like symptoms, lost memory of ones post pill activity and sleep-eating (which explains the several missing lasagnas and three empty boxes of doggy snacks.
So, I am happily -- willfully -- taking a pill whose promise of effectiveness states that one should hide ones car keys and stay off face book while under the influence. People are doing some weird stuff while taking “Xanado-do”. (Another made-up name)
My pharmacist, Sherman, is gathering Xanado-do-do pill stories for his memoirs for which I have suggested the title “A spoon full of Sherman”.
Other than the snappy title, I have come up with the following contributions of my own strange activity for his book:
1 - I set up work lights outside in order to weed the garden at two am.
2 - I threw away all our couch pillows and re-covered a lamp in faux zebra.
At least I am not the guy who emailed his friends a photo of himself in his high school Speedo, and cut out a place for a French door in his bathroom just above his tub.
All the bazar-a-tudes I experience in taking sleeping pill are still preferable to not sleeping or starting to snooze at 5a.m. and sleeping until the crack of noon.
Sot there is a self imposed rule to follow -- and by self imposed I mean that the family voted on it and informed me of the result of their caucus. I can no longer take my pill unless I am in or on my bed wearing what passes for pajamas, ready to put myself down for the evening.
The good thing about not sleeping well is that I am less and less judgmental when I see my neighbor trimming his lawn with his pinking sheers by the light of the moon and more inclined to let him borrow my work light.