NIGHTMARE ON SLEEP STREET

Ruth Spencer suggests five things to think about when you can’t sleep

Ruth Spencer suggests five things to think about when you can’t sleep

Hello darkness, my old frenemy. For the insomniac, easy sleep is, ironically, a dream. The pillow hot and hard under your restless head, the mattress chatting with your sciatica and if your partner snores one more time in that weird, ques ning sort of way there will be a reckoning. Here are five things to contemplate when

can’t sleep.

It’s just you

Lying awake is a torture some people never suffer. Some people, it’s said, go to bed and fall asleep. People in books are constantly falling asleep before their heads hit the pillow. How is this done? Do they aim their bodies vaguely in the direction of bed and just switch off? You’d think the impact would wake them up. If people in books have any tips, please write in.

Have you tried…?

There are many remedies for insomnia. Conveniently, it doesn’t matter which you try first, as none of them wo k. Warm milk is just disappointing Milo. List ing to the sounds of the ocean is fine until all t swishy water makes you need the loo. Turkey co ains the sleep hormone tryptophan, but you’d her never sleep again than have Christmas ev day. Counting sheep is the worst: even more bo ng than sleeplessness, and — if you’re good at anxiety — it gives you lots of opportunities to wonder if you’re doing it right. Are the sheep all together in a field or jumping a fence one by one? What kind of sheep? If you substitute goats are you kidding yourself? you substitute horses, are they nightmares? OMG, help me ...

It’s only natural

Good news! Research claims we don’t naturally sleep eight hours in a stretch. Historically we’d go to bed when it was dark and rise when it was light — which in winter can be 12 hours. Ignoring the sleepless nonsense that summer must be, this arranges sleep into two blocks, with a gap of a few hours in the middle. That’s all we need: less time to do things after work and more time in the miserable small hours, when the neighbours have made it clear they don’t appreciate you mowing the lawn.

Say when

The drinking reader knows that sleep wooed by booze invites the dreaded 3am wakeathon. It’s said that this jolting from the initial beautiful wineslumber is the body’s response to a blood sugar drop, and you should have a biscuit to combat the effects. This seems like excellent advice. Even if you don’t get back to sleep, at least you’ve had a biscuit.

Play it again, Sam

Like the world’s most cringeworthy movie not actually starring Adam Sandler, your brain compulsively replays your most awkward moments, making your stomach muscles tighten with shame. Hopefully they’re burning off those biscuit calories. You’re desperate to browse Facebook to make your brain shut up, but it’s against all the sleep laws to stare into a bright light. You do it anyway. Maybe light is good. Maybe if you move towards the light all this can be over and blessed oblivion can finally be yours. Or maybe you’re dreaming.