Insomnia

I have insomnia.

I don't mean that I have insomnia sometimes, or that I get anxious and I can't sleep, or that I need to count sheep. I mean that my inability to sleep is a lifelong reality that I have learned to accept, and that those who love me and live with me have learned to accept as well. I had an epiphany in my 20s that enabled me to manage this issue, and that revelation led to changes in my lifestyle that might seem extreme, or selfish, to some people.

I am now teaching these techniques to my 7 year old daughter, who is a lot like me.

My mom has always told me that I stopped napping at a year old. I would sleep soundly all night long, so soundly she would fear that I was no longer breathing, but once I was up, I was up. And I was always--ALWAYS--moving. I never sat still, though we as a society seem to believe that is a problem that only afflicts little boys. She says that my entire childhood was a "blur" of me dashing through the room. I was also not the most affectionate child on the planet. When she would sing to me for hours as a newborn and I would continue to cry, my mother would wonder what exactly it would take to calm me down. One day, when I was maybe 6 weeks old, she couldn't stand it anymore, and put me down in my crib to "cry it out." I instantly started cooing at my bumpers, happy as a clam.

I just wanted that crazy lady to leave me the hell alone.

I am still like this. I love spooning--for a minute or two. I give a hug and walk away. I snuggle with my kids, but I don't linger. I hate back-rubs. I have perfected the art of getting the boys and men in my life (every single one of whom has been more affectionate than me) to take it down a notch and give me my space.

I am also still the same person who stopped napping at a year old. I never slept much, even as a teenager. I woke up early. I couldn't even nap when I was pregnant or going through cancer treatment. Five hours of sleep is adequate for me. I can be pleasant on less, and if I get more than six hours, it's like a miracle. When I had morbid insomnia from chemo, and I didn't sleep at all for four nights--not at ALL, people--I could still function, and work, though it was hard. When I had menopause and literally never got more than a single hour of sleep in a night--for months at a time--I was fussy and irritable, but I managed. Falling asleep has always required rituals for me, tricking my body into thinking I was doing something else. I used to have "seasonal insomnia" (I made that term up) in the summers in high school. It took me years to figure out why. I've always been little, and jumpy. My metabolism works overtime, with everything--food, drugs, you name it. I've always had more muscle for my frame than seemed normal.

I now believe that all of these things are related.

When I was in my 20s, working two jobs, dating, hanging out with friends, and interminably busy, the insomnia started to grate on me. I was still jumpy, still little, hanging out at a size 4 before vanity sizing had taken effect.

I didn't have a lot of time to exercise.

I took a long walk every day--I had always done that. My need to walk is partly psychological, partly physical. After the car accident I survived at age 9, I had extreme arthritis and bursitis in my hips. If I didn't walk long distances every day, my hips would lock up on me or the pain would be too severe to manage. (This is another reason I don't sleep well--I am a side sleeper, and I can only sleep on one side for maybe 2 hours before the pain in my hip wakes me up and I have to switch positions.) That car accident also gave me a fear of atrophy, since I was immobile for 3 months.

So, I walked in the early mornings when everyone else was asleep. I walked to the train, I putzed around my apartment because I still can't sit still. But I didn't go to the gym--when would I have done that? Two jobs, grad school...

Walking an hour every day at a fast clip (can't run, due to my car accident injuries), a 20 minute routine of situps and pushups and other toning exercises I essentially made up, and swimming in the summer--that was my exercise, and I did it faithfully every day for my entire adult life. It's a hell of a lot more exercise than most people get.

It wasn't enough for me.

I finally realized that I had seasonal insomnia in the summer as a teenager because I was doing less, and therefore moving less. Eventually, I came to the equilibrium I've been at for about the last decade.

If I want to sleep WELL, I will get 3 hours of intense exercise EVERY SINGLE DAY.

I walk, I spin, I do strength training at the gym and at home, I do water aerobics. In the summer I swim, paddleboard, run for an hour through a strong current (I can run in the water--doesn't hurt my joints). I go to the gym three days a week at work (lunchtime) and early in the morning at home 5 days a week. That's in addition to everything else.

I have small children, I work full time--how do I do this? Well, I'm lucky to have a gym at work. It is probably my favorite thing about my job. I'm lucky to have a husband who knows and understands that this is a necessity, not a privilege, for me. He has fond memories of watching me do jumping jacks through the window of my condo after he dropped me off from our dates in the early days. He could eat anything he wants, forget to exercise for two weeks, maintain his six pack at 37 years old, and still fall asleep right in the middle of a goddamn sentence if he wanted to, and he once told me he really wished he could "give me his sleep."

I have listened to people berate me for being small or skinny or having a good metabolism all my life. These people need to keep that shit to themselves, but they also need to recognize something. There are people who look like me who don't exercise at all. I know these people, and they have been blessed with a great metabolism. I would get bigger if I didn't exercise, but that is NOT why I do it. I'm not some vain little mini-sized freak. I also don't exercise like this to reduce breast cancer recurrence, because I was ridiculously active before my diagnosis, so let me just say this once: lack of exercise did NOT give me cancer. Maybe all this exercise will help prevent a recurrence, or maybe not--it doesn't matter. I am not one of the people whose cancer is related to activity, unless I was destined to be a professional athlete who works out 8 hours a day or anything lesser would kill me. That is NOT why I do it.

I just want to sleep. And stay sane.

I want the same thing for my daughter, my 7 year old, who doesn't even weigh 40 pounds. The one who can do one-armed pullups, 42 situps in a minute, 19 pushups in a minute, climb the rope higher than any other kid in her class. She is tiny, and has big arm muscles and a crazy strong core section, and the combination allows her to do these things.

She also isn't very affectionate, and she has trouble sleeping.

My daughter will hug us. She will cuddle with us--for a minute. Then she asks to be left alone. She runs around, even as she loves to just sit and read.

She wakes up before 5 AM on many days--right before I leave to go to the gym or walk. She does this even if she doesn't fall asleep until 9:30. She has told us that she tries counting sheep, but sometimes she is still awake at 10:30. Because she is so quiet, we never knew this was happening.

I could take her with me on walks, but she is short, and therefore slow in comparison to me even when running, and I need to MOVE, not amble--so I don't. We have been telling her to read, to try to go back to sleep. She gets fussy at night.

I changed my strategy just last night. I told her--and my husband, who is not a morning person--that if she woke up early, she should go outside with her dad. He could use the stationary bike on our porch, since even with his tiny body fat percentage self he could use the cardio, and she could jump rope or something. I have also decided to let her come with me in the nice weather sometimes--she can ride her bike while I walk.

She woke up at 4, went back to sleep, woke up again at 5:15 and was UP. I left for a walk at 5:30, told Gabe to get up. When I returned, I asked her what they did. "Daddy used the exercise bike. I ran up and down the hill."

That's it? Were you playing a game or anything?

"No, just running up and down the entire time."

She seemed so happy. I know now that this is what we need to do--we need to find a way for her to move manically, every day, for the same amount of time that I move. It will be hard. Chicago Public Schools allows 20 minutes of recess a day, not always outside. They have gym only 6 times a month. Well, you know what? I work an office job. It's hard, but it's possible. It takes a certain amount of selfishness to continually claim that time for yourself, but everyone around me is better for it, and the same will be true for her. I can teach her that it's ok to be who she is--little, strong, jumpy, manic, stoic, not so affectionate, even that dreaded word SKINNY. We were made this way, and it wasn't a mistake. People will still love you, even if at 7 years old you have already heard so many people say mean things to you about being little, strong, skinny, or stoic.

I was thinking this over breakfast when she was refusing to listen to something I was saying, and in spite of my annoyance, I wanted to give her a hug.

But then I thought better of it and told her to go brush her teeth. She smiled at me, and went charging away.