I spent most of last night awake in my Dublin hotel room. Wide awake and pleading for sleep between 1am and about 4:30am. The last thing I remember before finally drifting off was the sound of bins being collected outside.
I’m therefore feeling distinctly sub-par this morning and am grateful that I can finish work at 3:30pm today. I’m on my third large coffee and, based on past experience, know I’ll have to concentrate much harder than usual to simply get through the day.
Why now? Why has insomnia returned this week? I know exactly why, and it’s simply about the combination of pressures going on in my life right now. Nothing calamitous in isolation, but taken together, quite the bucket-load of shit I don’t want to have to deal with right now.
I really have to be careful when it comes to sleep loss. Just enough of it can tip me over into a relapse of epilepsy and I really don’t want that. The sleep disturbance is based on stress, and both sleep loss and stress combine to make the epilepsy more likely. All of this is made worse by the flu I’ve been battling for the past week.
Time to take stock, start dropping commitments and engage in a bit of self care before I get really ill.
I’m hopeful of more sleep tonight. But even if it doesn’t arrive when I need it, I’ve only one meeting in the diary tomorrow before I fly back to London and that’s one I’m looking forward to.
Plus, it will involve coffee.
Other good news: I finally have an appointment at the insomnia clinic in London, to join their group insomnia therapy sessions. I’m hoping that by the time I finish, I’ll be sleeping like a baby on a regular basis.
Until then, one day at a time. On stressful, sleep-deprived day at a time.