awake at 3 am

Awake. Again. Still.
Overwhelmed with heat: tossing off covers, sticking out one arm, one leg, unbuttoning pyjama top, flinging it off, groping on the floor for it an hour later, repelled by the dampness. Vowing not to check the time.
Checking the time.
Feeling the need to pee but not wanting to get up. Knowing that now that I’ve noticed my bladder, no sleep will come. Getting up to pee, tripping on the jeans discarded on the floor, the ones that I knew I should put away because I’d trip on them in the dark.
One more attempt in bed: stomach sleeping, fan directly on me, neck too tight on the right, switch face to the left, nothing is working, now calf muscles feel tight and twitchy.
Giving up: retreat to the guest room with a book. Vowing not to check the time.
Checking the time.
Thinking, always, of the irony: how many people over the course of my career did I counsel regarding insomnia? All those handouts on sleep rituals, stimulus control, tests for sleep apnea, screens for depression and anxiety, discussions about pain and caffeine and exercise and naps.
And here I am, at 3 am again, wide awake. Well, to be specific, lately it’s 2:20 am and 4:40 am. Which at least has a nice mathematical symmetry.

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