2:17 AM and I am not just awake, but alert. Completely, totally, alert. Crossword puzzles for 45 minutes, reading a book for another hour, maybe a 15-20 minute foray into the living room for meditation if the house is warm enough. If this were just one night in a run of otherwise solid nocturnal sleeping, I could tolerate this better. But this is one of many–early waking and not falling back to sleep. I’ve been prone to these episodes for decades, at least since graduate school. And until this morning, I’d dismissed them as negatives, thieves depriving me of that vaunted sleep that, even in the best of circumstances, isn’t quite as long as I’d like it to be.
Morning Pages As Lexapro™
Julia Cameron, creativity guru and author of the classic getting-unstuck text The Artist’s Way, has developed a method to clear the detritus from one’s head call “Morning Pages”. This is three pages of writing—stream of (un)consciousness, extemporaneous, thought-purging, unedited—done in longhand (never typed!) and completed first thing in the morning. Cameron claims this sweeps the junk out of one’s brain so that the real writing (or creating) can begin. I’d heard of this as a creativity tool and about 10 days ago, decided to give it a try. To complete the three pages takes me approximately half-an-hour. I’m writing, not thinking, just writing what comes into my head. Sometimes it’s “good morning, morning pages”, sometimes it more consequential. Sometimes it’s “I have to pee” in the middle of page two. The key is that it is for one’s own eyes (not shared) and it’s not “artistry”. It really is a preparation for the day, so that creativity has room to come in unimpeded.
In the time that I started these, I’ve gone from being in a relationship (long-distance) to being single again. So admittedly, I have a Lot. On. My. Mind. This would be trying enough with a solid night’s sleep, but I’m working through this on sleep deficit (a LOT of sleep deficit!) So, while I’m tired when I get out of bed, my core is anxious and nervous, precluding any additional sleep. The morning pages, though, have been a godsend for this agnostic.
I’m nervous, restless, apprehensive when I start the them. Yet sometime into page two, I clearly feel my chest relaxing and I start feeling hopeful (reflected in the writing). I write the nerves, the thoughts, the concerns, the shame, the guilt, the anger, the embarrassment, literally (and yes, I know what literally means) experiencing the anxiety leaving my body.
So, Insomnia. You always made me angry, keeping me from sleep. I thought of you as, at best, a cruel trickster. A nasty motherfucker. A hated visitor.
Until this morning. As I was writing today’s morning pages, I was suddenly struck by the thought that you, Insomnia, are more of an angel. You wake me up in the middle of the night to wear down my defenses when I arise for the day. Even if I do eventually fall back asleep for an hour or two, I’m still exhausted upon waking. And Insomnia, I see what you’re doing. You’re weakening me so that I must, MUST deal with my troubles. I must face them. I’m too tired to fight my heightened emotions. I can’t hide from the anger or relief or shame or tears. And thus I deal with them. Insomnia, you make me confront my fears and my tears so that I can get THROUGH sooner and EMERGE stronger sooner. In short, Insomnia, you prod me out the door to face the elements, much like a good therapist.