Day 65 - The joy of bed

Today I have to confess, I spent the morning reading sober blogs, working on my own comments (thank you all), working on a power point and all from my bed. Something that's gripped me from being surrounded by sober love is that I never really appreciated bed nor the concept of sleep either. Or working from its cosy enclave. It's brilliant. Quick email to the director of my project, in my jammies. Braw.

I'd be known to say, sleep - bah! Its for losers.

Oh dear, now if there was ever a statement which was utterly wrong it was that. I take each bit of it back. Sleep dear hearts is not for losers, its epic.

Sleep is mega-epic-with-bells-on.

I don't think I'd ever really thought of sleep or bed or rest as anything other than a whimsical indulgence. Something people did when they didn't know what else to do. Or were lazy.

[Dodges bricks and other pillows heading my way]

To be honest, I've always struggled with sleep. Getting to sleep for me was epically hard, one of the ways I managed this was, surprise, surprise - drinking lots/passing out.

So latterly bed/sofa/sleeping places then became places full of wakeful guilt. Of self torture - what did I say, what did I do - churning around my head as I began to rouse. 

They were places to dread.

I've always had a bad sleep relationship. I sleep heavy, it makes me feel groggy. I'm a shite napper, I wake up feeling like I've been drugged or hit by a tonne of bricks. I'm like a bear with a sore head when I wake, I'm groggy, I feel like I'm being dragged awake, like a heavy object being dragged to consciousness. Every single day. Mornings are a dread for me from a 'how long will I be before I can function' kinda way. I'm a natural night owl I tell folks, I worked in clubs in my late teens, wrote all my assignments in the dead of night.

Seemingly as a child, I was a real 'growler' ridicoulusly hard to wake, and force 10 grumpy until I roused. As an adult, you simply don't talk to me, allow me to stott off all the walls in search of coffee and you'll find me cowering over a cup of coffee scowling, muttering, until the second cup. Do not approach, good friends know to remain silent, or fear the wrath. Its really quite silly. I'm an aproachable, happy wee soul, unless I'm just woken. Its how it is, how it always has been.

Unless I drank, if I drank I woke easily like a snap of a finger. So I started to use drink to help regulate my sleep. (I know it sounds like a pathetic excuse, but I did).

Oddly if I needed to wake early, or make sure I didn't sleep deeply for long enough I regulated that with drinking, as the sleep was lighter/more broken.  I was classically the one that stayed up til silly o clock boozing, then up a few hours later, baking for the kids, or the visitors. Boinging out of bed. I only boing out of bed with booze, hangover free, which is not what you read when you drink. 

Although like the bastard that it is the boing kinda went too. So the advantages of drinking soon reduced and this year the hangovers started.

If I needed to sleep without worry, I also drank. To switch off the noise, the worry, the fears, the panic. 

Maybe I just drank. 

The biggest change in my drinking was the advent of hangovers, I never use to get them [again less with the brick throwing please]. Hangovers only started recently in my life, like, erm if I'm totally honest, maybe earlier this year. I have to say, not a fan. People use to say, no hangovers, you're lucky. But was I? I guess so, in some ways, but it didn't make it a reason to stop.

Until they got so bad I struggled to get up and function and that happened really quickly, like in the past year or so.

I'm enjoying the lack of hangovers now, can't say that I liked them, but mostly I powered through them like some kind of demented rat, never giving in.

So these days the whole me and bed/sleep relationship is unchartered territory.  All I do know is that bed is safe, warm, without regret. Its my go to rather than my 'fight from'. I still have the panic, the anxiety but its noise is reduced as the days of wine increase. They are a work in progress. For now, rest, bed, sleep, these are needed.

If that's the most staggering positive change in 65 days of not drinking, then bring it on, with pillows and a nice over cover please, oh and a book, perhaps a drink of water and some magazines thank you very much.

Tomorrow I have to go to a conference, so not a hope of working from bed. I shall be joining normal people heading out into the world, and doing rather than writing about doing. But, whilst I can, I think I might just keep indulging this lovely wee pastime. 

Who would have known bed could be such a good recovery tool. A life skill to acquire. I might add it to my list of hobbies.

The joy of bed. Who knew.