Sleeping

"In Ernest Hemminguay's short story " Now I lay Me", Nicks Adams, the writer's alter ego, stays up at night listenning to the silk worms feeding on mulberry leaves outside his army tent in Italy. Hemminguay had himself developped insomnia so severe that he was afraid to go to bed with the lights out. He struggled with spleeplessness the whole rest of his life, although this issue was often hard to separate from his other ailments. "I myself did not want to sleep", he writes, "because I had been living for a long time with the knowledge that if I ever shut my eyes in the dark and let myself go, my soul would go out of my body" ... But when someone says "I don't sleep", what exalty do they mean ?

Most people who complain that they can't sleep usualy mean that they do indeed sleep, but not long or deep enough. Perhaps a job loss or divorce is a blame, and in such cases, the insomnia usually resolves itself with time. When the insomnia is a symptom of underlying depression, a combination of therapy and anti-depressants can work ... Insomnia is a unique disorder in that the patient is also the chief dignostician. The American Academy of Sleep Medecine recomends overnight studies for all people with sleep complaints. If you're told you have insomnia, which you knew anyway, what can be done ? Often sleep doctors will prescribe cognitive behavioral therapy, which involves a set of "sleep-hygiene" rules, like advoiding stimulants and alcohols, regularizing bedtime and wake-up time, and using the bed only for sleep and sex ! While in theory "sleep hygiene " makes sense, in today's culture, which affords no time for relaxation, it's hard to put into practice ... We're on the computer at all hours and then we snuggle with our Blackberries. Our kids are even more hyperactive, texting way past their bedtimes, although today even the concept of "bedtime" sounds quaint. To compensate for being so tired in the mornings, they eat caffeinated foods, gulp energy drinks and pop Aderall and Ritalin ... So tonight many of us will be wide awake listening to the silk worms on our high-priced soun machines, afraid that our souls will leave us, afraid that we have no souls, afraid that with each passing day, this is it." Other Writing Patricia Morrisroe, in "International Herald Trbune", February 2010. and Auguste Rodin (1890), "Fugit Amor", Musée Rodin, Paris.