Ahamkaara

 

Very long ago, there was a time when my dear sleep and an early bird me were happy being together. Both of us waited only to hit the bed. We were going strong. There was so much understanding and love for each other; we were in sync. Our love created something very beautiful – dreams.

BH jumped into my life, right from my dream. He became a reality. The amazement was overriding my life so much that I couldn’t close my eyes at night. Those long conversations, late night talks, giggles and butterflies in the stomach experiences kept the clock ticking. My dear sleep kept waiting for me in the bed. Every. Single. Day. I did not realize that I was cheating on a long, stable relationship.   

Then, BH and I married. The first few days of our married life were euphoric, and it did not really matter at all when I slept or when I woke up. My dear sleep was disappointed and I was clearly disillusioned with him. And then the everyday grind of life began. BH, being a night owl, was discussing all his intellectual notions of life at night. I would struggle hard to make sense out of his words. Everything seemed like an Over-Head-Transmission (OHT)! My kindhearted sleep was right there, with his arms wide open. But, I shooed him away because at the end of the day (pun intended) I was keen to impress my (then new) husband. So, I kept my eyes open like this. My dear sleep was ashamed of me.

The struggle was real. I had married a man from the other end of the sleep spectrum. There were days when I was literally spouting nonsense half asleep when he was trying to have a conversation. There were also days when I would stealthily elope with my dear sleep when BH was going on and on with his theories and philosophies. The best part of those dates with sleep was that it worked like roofies for me. I would not remember a thing and I would wake up with energy of having 10 Red Bulls.

While BH and I slowly were slowly adapting to each other, my dear sleep had started behaving cold with me. I would lay in bed with my eyes wide open (over) thinking of

• What better points I could have used in an argument I had in the past.  
• What worse things can happen to me, my parents or BH, and how would I cope?
• The sounds I heard were of some intruder? Why is a mosquito buzzing somewhere? Oh why have I developed supersonic hearing capability now?
• Those unresolved battles in my mind, plotting the whole revenge path and then thinking it isn’t worth it.

By the time my dear sleep gave a namesake hug, I’d remember that I forgot to set the alarm. I set and finally embrace sleep. There is no warmth or depth in his love. As a result of which, I would panic wake up to see if the alarm clock’s battery has gone out and the alarm didn’t ring. Or worst, I’d wake up just a minute before the alarm goes off, cursing sleep for that one full minute of separation. My dear sleep thought I was beyond redemption. I was clearly not comfortable with the fact the relationship with my dear sleep had hit the rocks.

Then Baby 1 happened. Sleep had turned into a sadist, vengeful person. I would stay up all night and nap an hour or two in the morning. I had become a zombie. Years passed, my dear sleep looked like he had softened his stance. But then, Baby 2 happened. I stopped seeing my dear sleep. Finally, after years, I made an honest effort to reach out to him, talked to him, offered apologies and he did look convinced. I was happy. I slept like a baby that one night. Next morning, I realized Baby 3 is on the way. My dear sleep smirked as he left my side.

I could not figure out the meaning behind the smirk back then. But now that Baby 3 wakes up every half an hour at night just to show some love to me. I think now I know what the smirk meant. For now and for a few years more, I can’t put in words the relationship I share with my dear sleep.  It’s complicated.

the transformation from a delightful early bird to a confused owl to a dog-tired crow!