Some people fall asleep the moment their head hits the pillow. They simply close their eyes and Zzzz.
There’s a word for people like that: wizards and psychos.
I feel bad for them. They’re missing out on the joys of insomnia.
Just you and your brain having a jolly ol’ time!
The negative aspects of insomnia are well-publicized: You’re tired the next day. Physical and mental exhaustion. Cognitive impairment. Weight gain. Even dementia.
And sure, those are all bummers. Fat, tired, and slow-witted is no way to go through life.
But on the other hand, some brains are REALLY entertaining!
That’s my problem: I’ve always had that little voice in my head that yammers away. No matter what’s going on, this voice is telling stories, sharing ideas, and cracking jokes.
Sometimes, ‘round 2:00 a.m., the voice says something profound. Or wise, pithy, and stunningly poetic. It’s been the source of countless new ideas — academically, professionally, and personally.
And since I owe my livelihood to my ability to think creatively, insomnia is the secret to my success: Tossing and turning in bed all night makes me a better worker.
But honestly? Most of the thoughts aren’t particularly deep.
And a ridiculously large number of ‘em involve being a highly trained ninja.
It started when I was a kid: I’d imagine my school was under attack by an evil army of assassins, but fortunately, I’m a super-powerful, highly trained ninja-warrior who can singlehandedly wipe ‘em all out. (None of my friends have any idea. They’re totally surprised!)
I’d love to tell you I’ve outgrown this, but nope: Even today, when I’m bored in an office meeting, that little voice goes, “Imagine we’re attacked by KKK outlaw bikers! Maybe they’ll smash right through the office window! Good thing you became a master of the martial arts when no one was looking: Wham! Pow! Hooray!”
The other fantasy is being a suffering martyr. See, once again — when nobody was looking — I’ve sacrificed myself for ALL my friends and family. And then, after I die, they suddenly realize how wonderful I was: “Wow, his heart was so big! I had no clue he loved us so much — and gave so unselfishly. Curses and drat, why didn’t we do a better job at appreciating him when he was still alive?! Truly, he was special!”
(Yeah, I know, it’s pretty embarrassing.)
Sometimes, if I have an idea for a column late in the evening, I can write the whole thing out in my head. Literally every last word. And then, when I wake up in the morning, all I’ve got to do is transcribe those thoughts.
Those are some of my best columns.
Of course, sometimes insomnia takes you down dark, disturbing rabbit holes: Reimagining and replaying the worst moments of your life — or projecting what’ll happen if there’s a tragedy.
Like the deaths of loved ones.
And because that voice is such a strong storyteller, it’s not easy to snap out of it. Some of the scenarios are hauntingly realistic.
I’ve gotten better at shunning those thoughts, but I still fall prey to ‘em at least once a week. It’s an awful, terrible feeling.
I don’t know why I’m so bad at sleeping: I’ve been practicing every night of my life, and I still suck at it! You’d think, with all this repetition, I would’ve figured it out by now.
But that little voice in my head keeps on yammering away.
Apparently, not everyone has this affliction. According to researchers, only 30% to 50% of people have an inner monologue — which I find astonishing: Do the other 70% to 50% just walk around all day with no thoughts in their head?
How does that even work?!
My wife and kids have caught me talking to myself. Apparently, my “tell” is that my lips move and my expression changes when I’m having an internal conversation. (What can I say? When my brain says something funny, I smile. I mean, it’d be rude not to.) I haven’t caught them doing it, so I guess I’m the only one in the family who does it.
But in my defense, my brain is an excellent conversationalist — and sometimes, it’s important to hear from someone whose opinion you REALLY value.
That’s the upside of insomnia: You’re never really alone. And there’s value to cycling through your thoughts, reviewing what happened, and troubleshooting solutions. Sometimes, when your body is exhausted and your brain semi-delirious, the creative juices don’t just flow — they pour like the Great Deluge.
The downside? Pretty much everything else. (Yawn.)
But every now and then, those creative thoughts make it all worthwhile.
And all the other times?
Well, at least I got to be a ninja.
