Bedtime Rituals
Star Trek, Duolingo, Music, & Litter Boxes
By helping us keep the world in perspective, sleep gives us a chance to refocus on the essence of who we are. And in that place of connection, it is easier for the fears and concerns of the world to drop away. — Arianna Huffington
Sleep for me is a haven, an escape, relief from the worries and responsibilities of life. Insomnia is something I’ve rarely experienced for which I am grateful every time I hear the experiences of others who chase the elusive oblivion. Several years ago, my bedtime ritual included gathering my three dogs and one cat around me in bed at 9:30 - the time my Yorkie, Sammy, demanded was bedtime! - and tuning the TV to Star Trek: Voyager.
You would think watching Delta Quadrant struggles and battles might be stimulating but they were only a part of a calming ritual I looked forward to that lulled me into a pre-sleep cushion that even The Borg couldn’t upset. I was comfortable watching Captain Janeway, Chakotay, Tuvok, Neelix, and the others work through a myriad of situations that didn’t require any brain cells from me, knowing all would be well in the end. Just as Seven of Nine would enter her alcove for a regeneration cycle, I would enter my bed anticipating the same.
Since the dogs and the cat passed away, my bedtime ritual has become erratic. I don’t go to bed at the same time every night anymore. Sometimes I watch a movie or a series episode on TV (currently it’s DTF St. Louis) or I read a couple of chapters in a book (currently The Copenhagen Trilogy by Tove Ditlevsen) but it’s not the same comfy wind-down from the Voyager years. When I think about all the nights snuggling with my pets and Voyager, it’s a sweet memory.
I’m always interested in how other people do things; what interests them, what scares them, what inspires them. What are their routines, their challenges, their loves. Recently I asked three internet friends, who are also writers, about their bedtime/life routines.
My sleep routine is the same every night. The blessing of being an empty nester with a job that gets me up at 6:20am each morning. I find myself unable to sleep in these days, which is good since I write my best in the mornings. My night routine starts at 10pm or so, get ready for bed (brush, floss, etc) and do my duolingo (Spanish). I used to read before bed, but lately that has been substacks or internet scrolling. I am trying to put my phone away, but I am finding it a work in progress. My goal for this year is to get through my TBR one evening at a time. For me, sleep is important, for my work as a physician but also, when I am off, for writing. I will often sleep on a concept and awake with a story in my head that is demanding to be written.
Each morning, after/during coffee, I read some poetry - usually from my shelves. If I have an urge for more reading, I go online and search authors. Occasionally, I’ll do the same for flash fiction or short pieces - fiction or nonfiction. At night, I turn to cinema - watching a film before sleep. I allow both morning and evening to be, hopefully, sources for inspiration for my own writing. My writing nearly always begins with fragments that I’ll build on. I jot down the fragments - and then allow the bits to develop into something more. As for the morning or evening patterns, I don’t force any sort of inspiration. I can’t/ won’t do that. I just allow space for it. When I was younger, I started each day with music and ended each day with music. But, allowing the music to lead to inspiration - giving space for it, not forcing it - was the same.
I sleep, but not well. My “once upon a time” ritual of reading in bed after a long day is a vague memory. Both morning and evenings are presently bookended by megacolon Bob, my cat of many diagnoses. His morning and evening medications for diabetes and constipation are time-bound and require post-dispensation monitoring and close scrutiny of deposits left in the litter box. After Bob’s 8:00 pm injection, I click open some nonsense passing as entertainment and soon slip into a deep sleep on the couch, only to be awakened by Bob in my face demanding his ritual of the late night snack, to be followed by a ritual of my own: check the litter box - sift atomic contents - record impression of deposit - sleepwalk to bed.
The only place I’ve ever slept well both as a child and as an adult was my maternal grandmother’s home. That sort of wake-up “what the heck” surprise of free falling asleep can only be attributed to a deeply instilled sense of safety and security.
As a writer, my long wide awake hours offer ample time to observe and take note and of course, spend time with Bob. My less than restful nights, I sleep, if only to dream.
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“Sleep is like a cat: It only comes to you if you ignore it.” -— Gillian Flynn, Gone Girl
I’m happy to share Bob’s Vetsulin dosage has been reduced - no more 8:00 pm shot! :)