After a week of not-nearly-enough sleep, I finally managed to scrape out a whole 6 hours on Monday night, which gave me some actual energy and enthusiasm to start my 2nd day back at work, after my first was hampered with nausea and fatigue. I coped with 11.30-2pm meetings, which conflicted heavily with my eating timetable, got to catch up with JS for the first time since I visited Melbourne last November, and went for my first decent walk in a fortnight.
So, rather than risk some kind of fatalistic collapse of my universe into negativity by daring to crow about good things, I figured I might hold off on this post. But, apparently, the mere thinking of positives is enough to smash my sleep back into many fragmented moments, meaning that I woke up at 2am, after a whole 2.5 hours sleep, and it took me 3 hours to return to somnolence.
"Yeah, we've heard all this insomnia crap before, Bertie!" I hear you rant.
"Not so!" I reply.
This time, I didn't calculate how many hours sleep I would be able to get before my alarm went off, or really worry at all about the disturbance. I simply listened to a few podcasts, enjoying the extra kind-of-awake time, and eventually let nature take its course. Of course, I'm grateful for today being my day off, so a return to sub-6 hours of sleep is far more manageable.
I have no idea why I'm having trouble sleeping, and I'm not going to overthink it, just keep on exercising, being relaxed and making use of the extra hours.