Insomnia: The breakup that broke my brain

Back when I had a boyfriend, we used to laugh about our respective sleep habits. He was the type who could fall asleep any time, anywhere; he called it his superpower. But me, on the other hand—everything needed to be perfect, or I'd have trouble sleeping. Any amount of light was too bright, any amount of caffeine too much, any hour before 10 pm too early, any position but the perfect position too uncomfortable. As he put it, if I could find any possible reason to not be asleep, I would not be asleep. We used to laugh about it because, as I put it, at least I didn't have insomnia!

Haha. The joke was on me, because within a few months, he stopped being my boyfriend, and I stopped not having insomnia.

It began the very night of our breakup. After crying almost incessantly, all day long, I went to bed early, hoping to take refuge in unconsciousness. This is a coping strategy that has always served me well through previous periods of depression, but it didn't work this time. This time, I woke up around midnight, and immediately was inundated with a flood of the same miserable thoughts that had plagued me all day. In no time flat, I was wide awake and crying again.

The hours ticked by, but I didn't see any sign that I was going to fall back asleep. I thought about having a drink to help me return to dreamland. I usually make a habit of avoiding alcohol when I'm sad, as I know it can turn normal sadness into extreme sadness, but I had cried myself out and was feeling calm by now, plus I'd just had the worst day of my life—maybe I was entitled to a treat! Around 1AM, I had a shot of vodka, but it didn't make me sleepy. Around 2, I had another shot of vodka, but still didn't feel sleepy. Then I had a third shot of vodka, and, predictably, turned into a hysterically crying mess who finally fell asleep around 3 am.

Pretty much every night after that proceeded in the same way. I'd go to bed, maybe fall into a light sleep for a few hours, then wake up between 12 and 2 and not be able to get back. I'd try all sorts of tricks to fall back asleep, some of which helped some of the time, but most of which didn't most of the time. The only thing that reliably got me to drift off again was alcohol, which of course made me feel worse the next day.

Probably around 3 weeks after the breakup, I realized my grief had largely subsided. I'd decided to drown my sorrows by jumping back into the dating pool, and it was working. I no longer saw the loss of my boyfriend as the loss of all hope for my future. I was developing a more optimistic attitude about my prospects...but it wasn't doing anything to improve my sleep.

After a little less than a month, I finally admitted to myself that I had more than just temporary trouble sleeping. I had insomnia. The thing that I'd always been grateful to avoid had finally come to claim me, and it wasn't letting go.

So that's how it all began. Sort of. In truth, it was more complicated than that, and if you want to hear what I mean, just wait for my next post!