Complex Numbers

Can't Sleep, Clown Will Eat Me

It's been a while since I had insomnia. Sure, I'm usually up when normal people are catching Zs, but that's just the way my rhythm works.

For those of you who can't sleep, try reading one of my essays. If that doesn't work...

My deep sleep quest: I tried 11 popular insomnia cures. Do any of them actually work?  

Here, The Guardian disappoints me right off the bat with the headline. It should be "Do any of them actually work for me?" An experiment with a sample size of one is merely a narrative.

Still, it can be an enlightening narrative. Let's find out.

But first, I have to note that the author's name is Emma Beddington. In addition to being the second most British name in existence, the only way it could have been more appropriate for this article is if her middle name were Goingto.

And second, the article is about a year old, but that shouldn't matter. Insomnia is forever.

Suggested remedies abound – behavioural, pharmaceutical, nonsensical and bleeding obvious – and I have tried most of them.

Have you tried not being evil? Oh, wait, that only works if you have a conscience.

Insomnia can be a competitive sport and I am not podium material; I’m a common or garden poor sleeper, rarely getting more than five hours a night (luxury, I hear the real insomniacs hissing in red-eyed fury)...

Cue the classic Four Yorkshiremen comedy sketch.

You know what else is a competitive sport? Deliberate insomnia. "I was working so hard I slept for three hours then got up and did a five-mile run before breakfast." "Oh, I only got two hours and I had so much work I skipped breakfast; also, who has time to exercise?" That sort of thing. But I think the article is about lying in bed, staring at the dark ceiling, and replaying that time the cashier told you "Thank you come again" and you said "You too" on an infinite loop.

I have never consulted a doctor about insomnia: I don’t know why, other than it doesn’t seem the kind of thing a harassed GP would be able to do much about.

Here in the US, that would cost way too much. You lot get it for free.

So I turn mostly to DIY insomnia remedies – and as someone who has given them all a whirl, here is my wholly subjective opinion on what to try and what not to waste your many waking hours on.

At least that fixes the glitch in the headline, which, to be fair, article writers don't always have control over (despite the first-person pronoun in this one).

Sprays and roll-ons

The insomniac is essentially a primitive, credulous creature; one whose cognitive functions are probably operating at about 3% of optimum capacity. This is how I, an otherwise rational person, have ended up using a Balance Me Beauty Sleep Hyaluronic Mist and a Balance Me Beauty Sleep CBD Concentrate rollerball nightly

I think I understood a few words from that last sentence, so I'm pretty sure it's English.

Normally, this is where I'd stop reading, because to me, aromatherapy means nosing the scotch before drinking it.

Note: As you know, I live an alcohol-positive lifestyle. Nevertheless, I'm aware that drinking isn't conducive to good sleep. You may go unconscious, but it's rarely a good sleep. If you're truly suffering from insomnia, I'd say lay off the booze for a bit.

These potions smell delightful, but the use of the word “beauty” is hilariously wrongheaded: I look like a sentient bowl of porridge because I never sleep.

Gotta give the lady props for a good turn of phrase.

Pillow sprays

In my experience, a pillow spray is the weakest insomnia Hail Mary out there.

Wouldn't do a damn thing for me, anyway, as I use a CPAP.

The 4-7-8 breathing technique

Plenty of research suggests breathing exercises are effective for relaxation. This one is simple: breathe in for four seconds, hold your breath for seven seconds, then breathe out for eight. For me, however, any attempt to focus on breathing leaves me unable to breathe normally at all. Can I trust my lungs, which are just eerie flesh crumpets, to send me to sleep? Wouldn’t it be horribly easy just to stop breathing? You can imagine how relaxing yoga classes are for me.

"Flesh crumpets." Dying over here.

I recognize that pattern from yoga, myself. I've noted before that meditation is impossible for me because I just fall asleep. That's because I trained myself long ago that relaxation = sleep. My guess is that if you use these breathing techniques for meditation, fine; if you use them for sleep, also fine; but if you try to switch back and forth your poor brain gets all confused.

Weighted blankets

I love the idea of a weighted blanket, a sort of heavy fabric hug, albeit one with scarcely researched relaxation and sleep benefits.

Again, sounds like an individual kind of thing. Works for some, not others.

That, by the way, is one problem with any science related to sleep. Research is going to look for what works for most people most of the time. If you're comparing Option A with Option B (with a control group), and your study determines that Option B works on the majority, it ignores any outliers for whom Option A works.

CBD drops

You know, actually using cannabis the way nature intended can be a marvelous sleep aid (or so I've heard). It doesn't affect you the same way ethanol does. Seems to me that processing it to create a product just adds another layer of capitalism into the mix.

Melatonin

The hormone melatonin is produced by the pineal gland in the brain to prepare the body for sleep. The mysteries of international regulation mean you can buy a truckload of it in the US in your local Whole Foods (along with a $28 watermelon or some “deliciously dippable kale shapes”), but here it is prescription only, so I am forced to procure it from a friend in the US who sends it to me in exchange for Marigold bouillon powder, which, puzzlingly, is unavailable in US Whole Foods branches.

You know what I can't find here? Real crumpets. I would absolutely trade you melatonin for a steady supply of crumpets.

Counting backwards from 1000 in 7s

Sure, 2am maths is definitely the best maths. No.

"Math is hard." On those rare occasions when I have trouble falling asleep these days, I make a deal with myself: I start counting backwards from 100... in French. If I make it to "un," I get up and play a game. Usually I doze off around "soixante-cinq."

Over the counter pharmacy remedies

I mean, if they're not that expensive, what's it hurt to try? (Unless it's homeopathic or naturopathic or some other unregulated and untested nonsense like that.) Like I said, some things work for some people and not others.

The US army technique

This “hack” is all over the internet, along with the claim that it works for 96% of people within two minutes after six weeks. Impressive numbers. The basics: you tense then relax your face, make your body go limp, try to think of nothing, then visualise a canoe in a calm lake, or lying in a black velvet hammock.

First of all, the "tense and relax" thing is hardly unique to the Army; people have been using it as a relaxation aid for a very long time. Second, last I heard, soldiers are up doing calisthenics at like 0400, and then bouncing around doing army stuff until at least 2300. The usual problem is how to stay awake for all that, not how to fall asleep for those few precious hours.

Lettuce water

I only tried the daft TikTok tip to drink lettuce-infused water before bed because it seemed completely ridiculous.

You know, just yesterday, I saw this news story   about people digging holes all over some beach in Florida, allegedly because of a DikDok challenge. I have no idea if that's actually the proximate cause (it's not like people haven't been digging holes in beach sand for as long as there have been people on beaches), but nevertheless, if you do what DikDok tells you to do, you're an idiot. Sand flows, and people have died buried alive in their own beach holes, which I suppose is a good metaphor for something.

On the other hand, the only downside I can think of with lettuce water is that I imagine it would taste fucking disgusting. Still, I follow the rule of "if it's trending on TikTok, it's a bad idea."

Cognitive shuffling

The concept behind “cognitive shuffling” is that focusing on a series of random, unconnected words replicates the visual images and “micro-dreams” that immediately precede sleep. I tried it twice recently, but thought you were simply supposed to think about unrelated innocuous nouns (sausage, paperclip, lamp-post, say). My exhausted brain was defeated by around the eighth noun: success.

That's probably because you're supposed to think of concrete nouns, not abstract ones.

For now, my most restful nights are the ones when I convince myself that it doesn’t really matter. The best medicine, I fear, may be acceptance.

And here we get to the crux of the matter:

Stop giving a shit, and everything's automatically better.

Incidentally, concerning this entry's title...