[Martin Reed]

This topic was actually inspired by emmaree's status update:

Quote:

I have not slept all night and now I have eye bags

As insomniacs, we know there are a number of side effects of insomnia – from the minor to the serious. I thought it would be interesting to discuss how we 'disguise our insomnia' or if we even bother to try. How do you hide the bags under your eyes? How do you hide (or try to suppress) your short temper? What are the worst effects of your insomnia, and how do you try to hide them from others?

Side-effects of insomnia are varied, so I think this could be an interesting discussion. I look forward to seeing how this one develops.

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[Mike Hooker]

Occasional insomnia might be maskable (Is maskable a word?). But I think chronic insomnia is difficult to mask. We all know that insomnia is a bigger creature than we, ourselves, are. It's all-encompassing; no area of life goes untouched. Grouchiness and irritability go hand in hand with chronic insomnia.

I've never been able to mask mine, at least to those who know me personally. Especially when I was taking dalmane back in the '80s. That stuff turned me into a monster that I never thought I could be.

At that time I worked as a mechanic at a Chevrolet-Cadillac dealership in Marion, Illinois. I was taking a dalmane nearly every night but still not sleeping much. One morning my service manager gave the assignment of changing an engine in a front-wheel-drive Cadillac.

What I did next would have gotten me fired from any other dealership, but since my manager knew of my sleeping problem, I guess he just wrote it off as the result of another bad night. I had what is known in the business as a “refrigerator” toolbox. They're a bottom box and a top box that when combined form the size of a smaller-sized refrigerator. I had both of my boxes bolted together to form one box.

I gripped the top of my toolbox with both hands and shook it so hard from front to rear that the wheels were lifting off of the floor. I had so much pint-up energy from both the dalmane and the insomnia (and the fact that I hated the automotive repair business) that I guess I had strength beyond normal at that moment.

After that I grabbed a chair, walked out front of the service department, and sat there for 30 minutes. After I'd cooled off some, I went back to the Cadillac and kicked the front license plate several times, bending it out of shape, but I didn't care. After a while, I finally settled down and changed the engine. I guess if I'd had an assault rifle with me that morning, I could have easily gone postal. It's a good thing that I've never had an interest in guns and have never owned one.

Later, as a seminary student in the mid-'90s, I was getting maybe an hour of sleep per night. I was miserable, actually beyond miserable, but I tried my hardest to keep it from my fellow students and co-workers. I was no longer taking dalmane, so I didn't have that chemical in my system to cause additional problems.

I never tried to hide it from my wife and daughter, though. One morning after no sleep, I was walking my then eight-year-old daughter to school. She said something to me, I don't remember what, but I snapped and said, “Shut up! Don't talk to me!”

She didn't say another word. But I hurt her feelings that morning. I would never have said that if I'd had a “normal” night's sleep. I don't know if she's forgotten that morning, but I haven't. I'll carry the burden of hurting her that day for the rest of my life.

As a seminary student, I worked 36 hours per week for the school's landscaping department. We were a large department with every tool and machine needed to take care of the seminary's campus and family housing units. As at any other seminary or university, the president received special treatment. The landscaping department stored the wood used in the president's home fireplace and kept his wood rack stocked so he'd have wood when he wanted it.

One day, with little sleep and after scoring poorly on a test, I went to work early, grabbed an axe, walked to the woodpile, and chopped wood for a while to burn off stored energy. Normally, I'd never chop wood because it's hard, physical work, the kind of work I don't like. But that day I needed the energy relief that chopping offered. Nobody asked me why I was doing it, so it didn't appear that I was trying to hide my insomnia.

Chronic insomnia is a killer of good life.

[emmaree]

Wow Mike , my heart goes out to all you guys who suffer with the chronic effects of insomnia. I'm not a very nice person when I don't get good sleep. It really shows on my face my demeanor. During those times I tend to live on coffee, and I have to say the bags are hard to hide. I usually wear make up, a reflecting eye cover that I only use at this times as I normally don't like using make up. I mope around the house a lot and my good diet goes out the window as I tend to go for extra carbs..

I don't hide a lack of sleep well, I get very fuzzy brained and do really stupid things like place my mobile in the fridge.

I'm quite an emotional person so anything may set me off. So my friends and family have learned to give me a clear path during this time and I have been told I do provide some comedy relief which in a way balances the irritability and short temperateness .

So to answer your question Martin I don't hide it well.

[Mike Hooker]

I know what you mean about the carbs. For many years I stayed pumped up on sugar and caffeine. After a bad night, I would start the bad day with strong coffee and a lot of sugar-sweetened cereal. After I got to work I'd drink more coffee.

Along about 10 or 11 am, I'd start having minor tremors and shake for the remainder of the day. In the afternoon I'd buy from the candy and coke machines–just to get through the day.

So, by bedtime, guess what, I was so pumped up I couldn't fall asleep. Then I'd take a dalmane to try to sleep. The next morning the whole cycle would start over. This period of my life was when I was working in automotive repair. I hated my life in the '80s. I hated just about everything and everybody, except for my daughter. Life was extremely difficult back then, but I didn't realize it until years later. I hesitate to say this, but I thought about suicide everyday. Of course, I'm glad I never worked up the nerve to follow through.

Really, the only thing I did like in the '80s was the Rock 'n Roll music of the day: Heart, Journey, Mr. Mister, REO Speedwagon, Mike and the Mechanics, Phil Collins–with and without Genesis, Chicago, Kansas, Boston, Styx, The Little River Band, et al.

[Author]

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