11 days

It's worse when Jacko is out of town. Those nights I lie there, fighting my heavy eyelids and listening to every sound. My mind races, and it goes places I don't like. Those nights I am the only one here to protect the kids from the evils that come in the night.

I've always loved to sleep. I am a big sleeper. Sleep is magical. Sneaking away on a weekend day for a little nap is heavenly. Well, little - who am I kidding? If I go to napville, it's a two hour trip. Minimum. Those people who say that a little 20 minute catnap refreshes them? I cannot relate. It's all or none for me.

So you can imagine how distressed I am that sleep is no longer a happy place for me. When Jacko is home, it comes easily enough - when I allow it. But even then it doesn't last very long. Any noise (sometimes even the sound of silence) or any dream is all it takes to awaken me. There is no sleeping soundly.

When Jack is not here, I've discovered that it is worse because then I have a hard time letting go of awake so I don't even get that first little blast of sleep. I was lying there last night, there was tossing, there was turning. I plumped my pillow, I tried covers on and covers off. I was tired - I could definitely feel that - but I was hanging on to awake with everything I had. Sleep just doesn't feel like a safe place for me right now and so I fought letting go.

Speaking of sleeping, if anyone ever wondered how long it takes for the habits of your beloved to become once again irritating after a traumatic event, I can now tell you. It takes exactly 11 days. Sleep was totally evasive that first week or so, for both of us. When Jack would finally find his way there and his sleep serenade would begin, I actually felt comforted. It literally gave me joy to hear him snore and to know that he had finally relaxed enough for deep sleep.

That lasted 11 days. On the 11th night, I gave him a good nudge (he might call it a shove) to make him stop. I was struggling with my own insomnia and I realized at that moment that I was actually feeling slightly irritated by this disturbance. And that made me smile. It was probably the first taste of normal that I'd felt since Christmas day.

I hold out hope that one day I will once again find myself threatening to smother him with a pillow if he doesn't stop. Then I will know I'm on the road to recovery. I am sure it is a long way off, but a girl can dream.