What I Did During My Summer Vacation

A friend emailed me last week asking "What happened to your blog? Did I miss something?" I told her that life had happened and she'd missed a lot, but that I'd been thinking about it and would post something in the next week. So Patti, this one's for you (and my 6 other followers).

When I started the blog back in March I had planned to write two posts a week. At the time, recently renewed in my commitment to writing and just coming out of the fog from an unexpected job loss, I had all kinds of topics that I wanted to write about and plenty of time to do it. As spring wore on, one post a week seemed more manageable than two and by early May I thought two posts a month were better than four. Shortly after, when I was unexpectedly met with one family crisis after another, those two posts a month were the first to go.

In May our cat had emergency surgery to clean up an abscess, the apparent result of a cat bite. While I was running through the house trying to keep him from leaping onto table tops (the vet admonished jumping was prohibited), or knocking himself unconscious as he head-butted his cone-collar into furniture and walls, we had a couple of human crises: My 82 year old mother fell in a doctor's office and broke her foot while balancing on the other foot in an attempt to put on her shoe, and two days later another family member flew to L.A. to check into rehab.

For the next six weeks, I became a part-time caregiver for my mother, who was confined to a wheelchair for three of those weeks because crutches presented a further danger. Not a person of patience to begin with, it was an exercise in humility and an opportunity to repeatedly practice unhurried acceptance. Things previously taken for granted--pulling a plate out of the cupboard, washing her hair, going to the bathroom--all had to be re-thought and new temporary strategies devised so she could manage when I wasn't there to assist her. When she moved from wheelchair to walker for the final three weeks in the cast, once again new methods of navigation and adaptation were required for both of us.

Shortly after she got her cast off at the end of June, I came down with what I thought was a severe chest cold. After a week with no improvement, the onset of laryngitis and a mild form of pink eye (because it takes a few attempts to get my attention), I went to our family doctor who told me in his thick Indian accent, "You have a full blown bronchial infection." Fourteen days of antibiotics, a moratorium on my usual cycling and gym routines, and a self-imposed house quarantine only slowly relieved my symptoms. It would be another four weeks before I really started to feel better again.

Before I knew it, August arrived with its hellish heat. My sister and her family, who had been making box and furniture drops throughout the summer, now rolled into town to stay after finally selling their tiny, over-priced tract home in the Bay Area. My mother, although regaining her mobility and autonomy, was still experiencing pain and my husband celebrated a milestone birthday, which brought family members in from out of town. There were now new distractions with added family members and always more chores around the house.

By this time I had two writing related projects, for which the seeds had been planted in the spring, now beginning to bear fruit: a writing gig for a regional magazine and a writing program for incarcerated women. At the same time I was revising my resume and searching for teaching jobs.

And writing. Last month, I submitted an essay to a national magazine and entered one of my blog entries in another journal's "Best of the Blogs" contest. In the months since starting the blog, I formed a critique group with another writer and am making final revisions to a poem I'll soon be sending to still other journals. I've had the opportunity to join and serve in a local writer's group and to read my writing in the community.

Importantly, as I've begun to submit my essays, I've learned that publication of writing on a blog is considered by many magazines and journals work "previously published." It doesn't seem to matter if the readership is all of 7 people and not the Huffington Post.

Since my writing has evolved beyond that which I initially conceived, I'm having to revisit this blog's form and purpose. I plan to continue posting on a semi-regular basis my insight and oh-so scintillating observations on life lessons learned, but there probably won't be many more posts like Midlife Midriff's or Slumber Partings.

Still, my loyal friends and readers, I hope you'll hang in there with me. I thank you for your readership and encouragement. For the "hey, what's up with the blog?" nudges. For the gentle reminder that the next post is only a login away.

Slumber Partings

It'd been awhile since I'd experienced a run of sleep deprivation, but here it was again. There was no crying baby. No late night work deadline. No noisy next door garage band. The reason may be less talked about but is arguably more common than most realize.

My husband is a night owl and I'm more of a lark--earlier to bed, earlier to rise. It's common for him to stay up until 1 or 2 a.m. and if I'm sleeping lightly, for me to awaken when he comes to bed. He's told me that my snoring has at times kept him awake and that on occasion he can hear me from down the hall. He has an animated demonstration he likes to perform to show me what I look and sound like. (It's sort of a cross between a snorting pig and a braying donkey. His snoring, although loud, is less comical).

When we first married 3 years ago, two of my husband's three teenagers took up residence with us in a 3 bedroom house. In addition to the usual adjustments of newly-marrieds, we had co-parenting, frequent overnight work travel, and differing personal rhythms to navigate. Many nights we were awake more than asleep and chronic tiredness and irritability became the norm. This lasted the first six months of our marriage.

On the infrequent occasions when one of the kids spent the night away, we sought respite by sleeping apart. However, expectations fed my disappointment that my husband and I weren't sleeping well together. I brooded, wondering what was wrong with us. I soon discovered that we're not unique and that sleep, like anything else, changes and evolves.

One day during the early months of my marriage I was meeting with a client out of town. She'd observed my embarrassing inability to stifle repeated yawns, which led to a conversation on spousal snoring. She told me that her husband had suffered from undiagnosed sleep apnea for many years of their marriage, which until properly treated, had led to sleeplessness and separate beds.

At the height of my sleep trials I remember talking with a girlfriend whose husband's snoring was so bad that she'd spent almost a year sleeping in their spare bedroom. She told me she'd started wearing earplugs with good results and sent me some for my birthday. I began inserting the little foam silencers before bed and, combined with the white noise of a small fan tucked under some pillows in the corner of our bedroom, sleep improved.

Not long ago I was talking with another friend, a young newlywed undergoing chemotherapy for testicular cancer, who shared with some resignation that his wife sleeps in the spare room on the days he undergoes treatment because his restlessness and frequent need to use the bathroom make a sound night's sleep impossible for either of them. I felt for him. The situation is not the one they'd imagined.

Nor is it for scores of other couples. According to a National Sleep Foundation poll, a whopping 70% of us report we experience frequent sleep problems. For those of us who are partnered, the most frequent complaints are restless sleepers (1/3) and snorers (2/3). Not surprisingly, the consequences include those that my husband and I experienced early in our marriage: excessive daytime lethargy, reduced quality of life and strained relationships (more than 1/3 of us on this last count, says the study).

While snoring, sleep apnea, and some types of restlessness are medical problems that can be treated, the other "that just annoys me" habits are perhaps more challenging to remedy. Studies have found that almost any difference can create a problem:

Disagreement about who sleeps on which side of the bed, mattress firmness, mattress size, sleeping with children or pets--or not sleeping with them, bed time/rising time, alarms, room temperature, sheet texture, number of pillows, to cuddle or not to cuddle, differing sleep positions, room quietness, open windows/closed windows, nightmares, number of blankets, going to bed angry, trips to the bathroom, ad infinitum. It's a wonder any of us sleeps with another.

As a natural response, many make the kinds of sleep accommodations that my husband and I have made. In addition to earplugs and separate beds, some also alter their own sleep schedules, use eye masks, or settle for a couch in the hope of getting uninterrupted shut-eye. I would add to the list: altered expectations (especially for those of us who partner later in life when sleep habits are well formed) and acceptance.

Research has found that when couples first start sleeping together, there's a greater willingness to sacrifice comfort for closeness. After a while, many not only want--but must--get a good night's sleep in order to function well. While some can get by with as little as 5 hours, and others require double digits, most of us need on average between 7 and 8 hours of sleep a night. It works best if those hours aren't fitful.

Case in point: I can go a couple of days with less than my needed rest. I may feel less energetic, but I can function. By day three, I'm cranky and overly-sensitive. By day four, watch out! I'm ready for a roaring meltdown. Fortunately, those days are fewer and farther between as my husband and I have come to know our sleep needs and limits.

Compromise, adjustment and acceptance have carried us far in achieving a better night's sleep together. But for those times, like this past week, when either of us reaches those limits, we now have a spare bedroom to which one of us can retreat.

What has been your experience?

The National Sleep Foundation poll results and a self-diagnostic quiz can be found at: www.sleepfoundation.org
For additional information visit: http://health.nih.gov/topic/SleepDisorders