1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7!

7 Sheep.

Have you noticed, over there in my profile, that I list myself as an insomniac?

I don't sleep well. Never have, according to my mother. I don't fall asleep easily, and if I do, it's usually a sign that I'm falling ill. Nap? Never. Sleep through the night? Rarely. I'm awake every hour or so.

I deal with it, for the most part it doesn't bother me that much. There have been a few times, though, that I began to feel a bit batty from so many days with little sleep. I cannot differentiate a real doorbell from a dream doorbell. I have awakened to find myself racing through the house to answer the door. I don't care for that.

I've followed all the recommedations for us non-sleepers: comfortable temperature, consistent bedtime, warm bath, warm milk, visualization, relaxation techniques.

I've been recommended "head games." Marcee once told me that she lies down and thinks, "go to sleep toe. Toe, go to sleep." Then her ankle, her calf, and so on. She says she's always asleep before she gets to her waist. When I play that game, I go toe-to-scalp and back again, with no luck.

I've created my own head games: I pick a time or a place in my past—my first grade classroom—and try to recall details. Or I visualize walking home from school, step by step. I figure I might bore myself to sleep.

I've focused my eyes on the inside of my eyelids. I've tried holding my eyes open in the dark. That exhausts me, but doesn't make me sleep.

I broke down a few weeks ago, and mentioned to my doctor that I don't sleep well. She gave me samples of a non-addictive sleep aid, called Rozerem. I hesitantly tried one. And I woke up every hour, to check to see if I was sleeping! I tried another pill, when I was still awake in the wee hours of the morning. I figured if I fell asleep quickly, I'd get the most hours of sleep possible. Of course, I was still under the influence of the sleeping pill when it was time to rise and shower for work, and i had a wretched day, feeling dizzy and even more tired. There is one pill left, and I don't intend to touch it.

What works?

Water. When I'm near rolling waves, I can't keep my eyes open. They lull me to sleep. I was born in San Diego, and I sometimes wonder if my mother didn't push my stroller around the beach to comfort me.

Disinterest in the cause. The more energy I put into it, the more difficult it is to sleep.

Perspective. When I'm going gonzo, I try to see this problem as a luxury. Yes, a LUXURY. I once contemplated the photo of a woman in wartorn Boznia, and I imagined myself telling her, "you think YOU have problems, baby, I can't SLEEP! Can you believe it? I have purchased books for it, and researched it. I've bitched and complained, and I have MONEY enough that I may pay a doctor to figure out how to rest my weary soul."

And I realize, when I do this, that most of my problems are luxuries, really. Luxuries that I can invest in, converse about, gain attention from, and spend money on.

I know something's going on, that I could get help for. And I probably will, eventually. But sometimes you just have to buckle up. And go to sleep. And it doesn't have to be more than that.

I am honestly falling-down exhausted right now, so I leave you for another attempt. Wish me luck. And luxury.