I realized that in the past year and a half I have never directly written a post addressing sleep, or rather the struggles with it, that can often accompany experiences of great stress or trauma. Insomnia is a VERY common symptom with widowhood, likely is with any sort of great loss. And while I am not an expert on sleep and sleep hygiene or handling sleep disorders, there are several things I have learned or implemented that have helped me so I thought I would share.
Before Kendall was sick, sleep and I were on VERY good terms. Once I no longer had babies waking me up in the middle of the night, I did generally (and regularly) get a decent amount of nightly sleep, and good sleep at that. I could sleep anywhere I needed to (in a car, on a plane, even lying on the floor propped against a bag if necessary). I would fall asleep immediately, and stay asleep all night. It was fantastic (and something I did not appreciate nearly enough). In fact, I have always been a very deep sleeper and I even once slept through the house next door BURNING DOWN when I was a child (I was so disappointed that I missed it and the excitement with the fire trucks). I actually worried about if when I became a mom I would even wake up when my babies/kids needed me (wasn’t ever a problem, although I didn’t usually wake up to children who weren’t my own being noisy in the middle of night).
With Kendall’s care (often needing to be checked on hourly through the night) and all of the “emergencies” I needed to deal with around the clock, however, that sleep-Suzanne relationship definitely changed. I didn’t seem to ever be able to fall fully asleep, felt I always had to be on “high alert,” and I would often startle awake throughout the night. It was hard to shut my brain down enough to be able to sleep deeply. It was constantly go, go, go, push, push, push, do the next thing that had to be done. That didn’t get better when Kendall was in-patient in the hospital, either, since I was worrying about what was happening there while I was away, would sometimes get middle of the night calls from the hospital, and my ears were constantly on alert listening for the kids or startling over noises outside, not feeling safe.
I’m still amazed that I physically got through those months, and particularly the weeks where I was practically living in an ICU room. But if anything, my sleep situation got worse after Kendall died. So many nights I have simply been unable to sleep, and I have often avoided going to bed at all because I knew that even if I did fall asleep I would probably have awful nightmares or startle awake with nocturnal panic attacks, completely disoriented as to where I was or what was really going on for those long frightening moments with my heart seemingly beating out of my chest, finding it difficult to even breathe. Not to mention that nights were so LONELY. It’s been awful.
Now, obviously a person needs to be sleeping to continue functioning. And I am functioning, at least on a general level. I went back to work only two weeks after Kendall died, have continued taking care of my family, have handled (albeit with help) the new challenges and crises as they have arisen. So what things have helped me?
Several, actually. While Kendall was in the ICU there was one social worker in particular who was instrumental to my being able to get through that time. She taught me how to practice mindfulness and grounding and be able to get through those panic attacks. She and one of Kendall’s doctors purchased and gifted me a white noise machine (and with their own money, I later learned) that I could use at night, so that when I startled awake I could have something to focus on to reorient and ground myself. So yes, a noise machine at night has helped. Although I don’t use it all the time anymore, when I do turn it on it signals to my brain that it is time to sleep. Another thing that helped with my nocturnal panic attacks (aside from counseling and medication) has been the compression sleep sack my sister gave me (yes, it’s very breathable, so it should even work for people who sleep “hot”).
Then there’s the fact that it is just plain COLD to sleep alone, and not something I was used to after being married for (almost!) twenty years. I have issues with my circulation and am often cold, but it’s especially hard when I’m sleeping and not moving around. I’d like to put in a huge plug here for the Costco bed warmer Kenny gifted me a few years ago. Such a game-changer. I can even preheat my bed before I climb in at night (and each side of the bed is controlled separately, so I wouldn’t completely roast Kenny out at night when I used it). I LOVE my bed warmer. I have also found that sleeping with a body pillow against me has helped with that bed feeling so strange and empty without Kenny there.
There are other sleep hygiene habits I could talk about, things you probably already know like avoiding screens before bed, trying to have a consistent bedtime, not taking long naps in the daytime, etc. It’s also helped me when I can purge the things that are in my brain before trying to sleep, whether that be writing in a letter or a journal entry or sometimes even over a phone call or on a Marco Polo. Even so, I will say that those physical items I mentioned above really have helped me immensely.
It’s still not perfect. I still sometimes avoid going to bed, stay up much later than I should. But it’s gotten better, particularly with the middle of the night nocturnal panic attacks or nightmares. I’m sure that that is contributing a great deal to my feeling so much better, so much lighter, so much happier. I don’t know if my sleep will ever be quite as good, or as deep, as it used to be, at least not while I am the only parent with children still living in my home, but I’m grateful for the progress I’ve seen. And I do still feel like I could sleep just about anywhere…
(And in a moment of either bravery or foolishness, I’ll include a picture of me ready for bed, with no makeup and in my comfy pajamas. You can see my journal and body pillow there next to me, and my noise machine is right next to the bed. No one could accuse me of not keeping it real here! Seriously, my life has become such an open book.)
