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My Sleeping Beauty Envy Has Morphed

I want a really deep sleep


I envy Sleeping Beauty for that long, deep sleep.

I don’t care about the handsome prince anymore — a really good-looking man who acts as if he’s just ridden up on a white charger probably has a personality disorder. When it comes to slaying dragons, just hand me my sword.

But sleep, ah, that eludes me.

I started waking up at night in menopause. My eyes would spring wide open.

Two a.m. was a fine time for unloading the dishwasher or starting a load of laundry. I watched boring re-runs, like The Big Valley, at 2:30 a.m., but that didn’t help. A friend and I told each other that since we were both wide awake at that hour, we could call. We never did.

In the old days before electricity extended our activities into nighttime, people used to have two periods of sleep, and the awake time was for other activities, like sex. Maybe. It could get one into a deep sleep for the night’s second half.

Or one could do chores, pray, or talk to the rest of the family members and guests who were sharing the bed. Sleeping with strangers meant sleeping — with extra body heat and maybe extra vermin. But I digress.

I have pink rock salt in my bedroom, and bundles of dried lavender. I’m adding light-blocking curtains. I make chamomile tea and rub on lavender-scented lotion. I haven’t done drugs (like prescription sleeping pills). I am consulting my doctor.

Aging giveth and aging taketh away. I don’t care about sleeping with the prince anymore, I just want to sleep.

Remember when we wanted to stay up all night? Now I could, and there’s no point.

I could prick my finger on a spindle, but with the cheap clothes glut, I haven’t been spinning cloth. I could qualify as a spinster otherwise. (Do spinsters have friends with benefits?)

I’ve just started using a sleep apnea machine, and in the morning I see a score. Even sleep quality gets assigned a good-better-best number (that means bad, mediocre, OK).

My mattress is newish. I’m not the sort who can feel a pea.

I do take naps, but I’d rather sleep at night.

When the prince kissed Sleeping Beauty, she woke up and broke the spell. Freudians have had a good time with the meaning of that enchantment.

I’d let a frog kiss me and keep the spell. My realm for a good night’s sleep.

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  1. SingingFrogPress
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    Oh Sharon, This is just wonderful–word by word. I love every bit of it. And I agree about the trials of interrupted sleep, though generally it’s only when I’m grinding my gears about something (which in the last couple years has happened entirely too often), OR if I drink even a full glass of wine at dinner that bad middle of the night wakefulness happens.

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