It’s been a hard day’s night…

In the beginning, I had a very tough time sleeping. I didn’t sleep at night, I didn’t sleep in a bed, sometimes I didn’t sleep at all. I was incredibly afraid of having nightmares; the scene from the night he died replayed in my head every time I closed my eyes. It was hard enough going through it the first time, I didn’t want an endless replay every single night.

For the first few weeks, I slept in a recliner in the living room. It wasn’t comfortable at all, but I couldn’t bring myself to sleep in our bed… the place where he died. I stayed awake all night, and when the sun rose in the morning, I greeted it with relief that I’d made it through another night. I’d generally doze in the chair for a few hours in the morning, but not enough to keep exhaustion at bay.

Eventually, the adult in me took over and I knew that I had to figure something out. I had a job and I had to get the sleep thing under control so I could function.

I rarely went in our room. I hated it. I would go in quickly, grab what I needed and then retreat back to the living room. It reminded me of him, but it wasn’t a soothing reminder. It was the horror of that night compared to the stark emptiness afterward. He filled the room, yet he did not.

I felt that a complete change in the bedroom was necessary. I emptied out the closet and the drawers and packed the contents away to be dealt with later. I moved his dresser out and took over both sides of the closet. I moved the bed over as many feet as I could, trying to make it seem like a different place.

That helped a lot, but I still had trouble sleeping. I made the room into a sanctuary of sorts, with calming items; a diffuser with my favorite scent, stark white linens, a weighted blanket and an assortment of soft and fuzzy throws. I added in a small coffee maker, a speaker for music and a chair to relax in. I’ve spent a lot of time traveling, and always appreciated hotel rooms decked out with all the special touches, so I tried to create a similar space for myself.

Although the room was calming, I still had troubles. For the longest time I slept with all the lights on. I didn’t want to be in the dark. I don’t know why, I just didn’t. I’ve since been able to turn off the overhead lights, but I still sleep with at least one small light on low power.

I moved from “my” side of the bed to his side. I’m not sure why on that, either. I never would have guessed that I would be okay with laying on the exact spot he last laid. I think I was just grabbing onto anything that would make the room different. Anything that would make the coming night and falling darkness different.

I’ve gradually come to a better place with sleeping. I still fall sleep in a chair in the living room, only to wake in the middle of the night and drag myself to bed. Sometimes I actually go to bed like I should, when I should.

Sleep comes, but it doesn’t stay.

I get about 4-5 hours of sleep a night. Lately I’ve been waking up around 4 am. Sometimes I don’t even bother fighting it. I get up, make coffee and just go into work earlier than I intended. Sometimes my body reverts back to “staying up all night” mode and I wind up crashing hard on the second night. That was the previous pattern; stay up all night until I crash from exhaustion the next night. I somehow figured that if I slept hard enough, I wouldn’t dream. That pretty much is how it worked out, although the concept wasn’t based on anything other than wishful thinking.

I’ve done what I can to ease the nights and invite a period of unconsciousness, giving my heart and mind a break from the constant thoughts and pain of the days.

Although the night offers respite, it will never be my friend; every night that passes turns into another day further from away from the life I had with him.