Tuesday, April 12, 2011


I love sleep, but sleep is very, very bad for me.  I know it is because I got around nine hours of sleep last night and I’m more exhausted than ever.  Sleep is a horrible drug, like marijuana or Chap Stick.  I can never get enough; it’s always more, more, more.  I am a sleep junkie.   
It took me a while to admit I have a problem.  I used to think I wasn’t dependent on sleep; that I could quit anytime.  Now I realize that without sleep, I feel like a zombie.  I start mumbling gibberish to people that don’t exist.  Simple activities I used to enjoy tire me out.  I wander around campus, listless and unfocused, unable to complete the simplest of tasks.  Sleep is my drug.
The other day I tried to quit cold turkey, and I started having serious withdrawals.  My hands shook uncontrollably and I had a pounding headache that no amount of Ibuprofen would subdue.  I tried so hard to stay on the wagon, but by the end of the second day I was passed out on a park bench.  I woke up much later feeling defeated.  I’ve tried to quit several times since then, but my efforts produced nothing but failure. 
Clearly, my problem is beyond self-correction.  I need professional help.  I’ve been seriously considering checking into a rehab clinic.  I searched for a clinic that specializes in sleep addictions online, but I haven’t found any so far.  I tried talking to a counselor, but he was just as addicted as I am.  He actually admitted to me that he gets at least seven hours of sleep every night.  His candid attitude shocked me, and I was left twisting in the wind, unsure of where to turn.
And now I’m craving sleep again.  But I will resist.  I will break this addiction even if it kills me.  I’m just going to lie in my bed and read a book or maybe close my eyes and meditate (I think of meditation as a nicotine patch for sleeping).  I’m sure I’ll manage to stay awake this time.  Probably. 

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