I know we’ve had some ups and downs over the years, and I accept responsibility for my part in it. I didn’t “get” you at first. I was cranky, a brat. I cried a lot, threw tantrums, refused to go to bed. I didn’t know how important you were. In my defense, I was also teething.
.
.
.
I have given in to all your demands: I no longer consume caffeine. I bought a fancy new memory foam mattress (the one advertised on NPR). I take melatonin (and valerian root, glycine, ginkgo biloba, L-theanine, kava, and tart cherry juice). I grow lavender and make DIY lavender oil to spritz on my face. I sneak into my neighbor’s apartment to take a relaxing bath since I only have a shower.
I downloaded all the meditation apps and rotate through them nightly while doing breathing exercises and counting backward. I eliminated blue light from all my screens. I even banished the color blue from my life, except for the sky, but I try not to look up much.
I know routine is important to you. I go to bed at the same time every night, even if I have company. I tell them to enjoy themselves, there’s vodka in the freezer, and I go to bed because that’s what we agreed on.
I rub magnesium oil on the soles of my feet and leave a slimy trail on my way to the bathroom. I keep my bedroom cool. So cool that my dog has to wear her coat to sleep in it. And dark. So dark that I step on my dog every time I get up.
I use a blanket that’s weighted, very weighted. To get up, I have to shimmy my way out sideways and roll onto the floor. I do all of this for you and I wait. And wait. But you don’t show up. And when you do, you’re always late and you never stay. Is there an emergency slumber party somewhere? Is it someone else?