by Cathy
I've always been jealous of the fact that my husband has been a good sleeper. And by this, I don't mean that he sleeps through the night without wailing himself awake because he's sick or has to go to the bathroom or he had a bad dream. That's covered by my kids on the occasional blue moon. What I mean is, no matter how bad a day he's had, no matter what happened right before he put his head down on that pillow, he instantly falls asleep. How many nights have I laid there next to him, exasperated, sighing loudly and cursing under my breath that he has the ability to do this? Countless.
For me, apparently, bedtime somehow translates into "Let's get this party started!" in my brain. That is when I think/stress about to-do lists, done lists, projects, bills, family, work and every other big thing that looms gargantuan, shadowing me in the still and dark of night to the point where I slide under my covers, squeeze my eyes shut and wish it away. So I toss and turn and get up to use the bathroom, check to make sure doors are locked, check on the kids, fluff my pillow countless times, put on some socks, take the socks off, nudge Joe to stop snoring (because honestly, is that really helping me here?!) turn the blinds totally shut in my room, and finally physically get pen and paper to jot down the eight million random thoughts that have found their way to me via Insomnia Road. All I need is confetti and a drink (which I've been very tempted to have depending on how long I've been stressing over stuff when I should be sleeping) and I can have myself a one-woman party!
I've always been aware, however, that Joe wakes up much earlier than I do. I always thought, for obvious reasons, that it was because he falls asleep much sooner than me and also, because when I met him, he boasted about how he likes getting up early enough to watch the sunrise and what a productive day you can have when you're an early riser! Yeah, yeah, blah, blah. I like to sleep in because when I finally DO fall asleep, I wanna milk that cow for all it's worth. Plus, watching the sunset isn't a shabby second option.
So I was amazed when I recently discovered that he gets up thinking about work and "stuff". He wakes up worried which is just as bad as going to sleep stressed. Was I a little relieved and, dare I say, secretly happy that I wasn't the only one stressing over things, making mountains out of mountains? I would lie if I said I wasn't. It's sadly comforting to know that he worries and stresses about everything I do. It makes me feel not-so-neurotic and strangely, that we are on the same page with things. His mind just jumpstarts the process at a different time of day.
Now that we know how each is hardwired, we will continue to share the burden of our stress while we attempt to put out these monstrous, sleep-stealing fires and work on preventing others from starting. We will take shifts and bear the weight of our worries on each of our respective shoulders, as the other revels in sweet, much-needed slumber. After all, we would be useless zombies if we were both on the same stress schedule. Funny how nature works, eh? But for us, this works. And that stress-sharing accommodation? That's just part of what marriage is all about.
