Opinion: Weighted blankets, lavender oil? All I want for Christmas is a night’s rest
I’m not quite sure when this happened, but I’m obsessed with sleep. The quantity and the quality. How to get it. When to get it. Why it eludes me.
All I want for Christmas is a good night’s rest, a solid stretch of zzz’s without answering the call of nature. But more than that, I really, really, really want to sleep past daybreak. Is that too much to ask? I think not.
I’ve always been an early bird — a lark is the term most often used. Back in the day, when my college friends refused to take any classes before noon, yours truly happily signed up for 8 a.m. (or earlier) coursework. I loved applying nose to grindstone as the sun rose. That’s when I was at my best, all smiles and energy.
That habit has only grown more ingrained with time. These days, I’m answering emails, editing my new novel, emptying the dishwasher, or organizing my files before most people have had their first cuppa. This usually works in my favor — until we go on vacation or I’m visiting my kids. Then, this cheery pre-dawn behavior becomes annoying. Disturbing. Weird.
That said, no matter the encouragement or admonitions, I am genetically unable to sleep past 6 a.m. Heck, I’m lucky if I make it to 5. Hence, my obsession.
I’m forever in search of the slumber of youth, when I could sleep for hours and hours, oblivious to light, noise or responsibility. I’ve tried pretty much everything. Lowering the thermostat. Avoiding fluids two hours before turning in. Turning off the screens. Keeping a rigid “sleep hygiene” schedule.
Nor do I drink alcohol or any medication that might rob me of sleep. And I don’t suffer from anxiety, depression or sleep apnea. Still, I’m stuck in a pattern: catatonic at 9 p.m. and then up and at ’em before 5 a.m. Grrrr.
I find comfort with friends who, despite their best intentions, also wake up before the birds begin to chirp. Sometimes we text each other in those wee hours. Sometimes we call to commiserate. They are as preoccupied with sleep as I am.
One of them recently sent me a story about sleep as the new status symbol and, of course, I read every titillating word. Apparently sleep-training programs and sleep hygiene are all the rage for a nation that stays up too late and wakes up too early, a society that has lost touch with how best to do something so simple and basic.
And it’s not just old groggy fogies who are getting too little shut-eye. The young suffer from sleeplessness, too, as do the rich and the poor, the stressed and the not-so. It’s so widespread that the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention calls sleeplessness a public health concern.
The article featured plenty of information about weighted blankets and lavender oil, about nap pods and a thingamajig that measures air quality and other intangibles in your bedroom. The list of sleep and relaxation apps was notable, too.
A good night’s sleep is so coveted that some high-tech hotels are using the promise of slumber to attract customers. The rooms include all kinds of features, from “activated charcoal drinks” to a mini-bar with CBD. For example, Equinox Hotels offers soundproofing, temperature-regulated mattress, meditation videos, drinks with ashwagandha (whatever that is), yoga mats and magnesium cream.
But all that newly acquired knowledge has done nothing to help me sleep better. In fact, the first thing I think about now when my eyes pop open at 4:47 a.m. is that special mattress I can’t afford. At 25, I didn’t even need a pillow.