Dear Sleep


Dearest Sleep

I write to beg your forgiveness. I hope it’s not too late to tell you how much you mean to me and what an essential part of my life you are. Please don’t walk out on me forever.

You were always there: starting at 6.30pm when I was a little one, straight after Neighbours, a bath and a storybook. Sleep you were part of my daily routine, my life as I knew it. Even on Christmas Eve, I knew how important you were: if I awoke in the night I would squeeze my eyes shut, willing myself to drift back off, in case Father Christmas clocked that I was conscious and would give my presents to another child; one deep in slumber.

A few years later I started to take advantage of you. It started with the odd careless occasion: engrossed in my Enid Blyton books I would sneak under the covers after lights out to read her magical stories by torchlight. Finding out whether Dick and Timmy the dog could rescue George from the smugglers (all whilst drinking lashings of ginger beer, eating sardines pressed into gingerbread and never, ever, questioning George’s sexual orientation) suddenly became more important than you.

At Girl Guide camp I rebelled from you further: exchanging ghost stories with friends, running about the campsite until the early hours, and singing “morning has broken” at the top of our voices when the sun started to rise. I laughed when the Guide leaders begged us to sleep, I laughed…

Then the sleepovers: discussing for hours in pain-staking detail exactly how I could get my latest crush to fall madly in love with me thus making Ronan Keating mad with envy; reading Sugar magazine from cover to cover; eventually falling asleep with pink hair mascara all over my pillow and waking up completely shattered. Such embarrassing behaviour.

In later years I whittled away night after night, talking about everything in my tiny world with my then love, who turned out to be a complete waste of time. The thrill of not going to bed was becoming addictive: the night seemed to have more to offer; talking in the dark made my teenage inhibitions disappear; and school hours, a daily routine, was a thing of the past.

At University I just didn’t need you. I could party all night and then still neglect you for lectures the next day. I discarded you time after time: sat in the computer room all night, starting and finishing crucial essays that I had known about for weeks: I would somehow write them in a night and take myself to bed at dawn. The next night, rather than recover, I would be dancing to Electric Six in the Student’s Union. Electric Six.

Then I started a full time job; and I wanted you a little bit more. Going to work made me feel tired. I started to think in the mornings “maybe I should have gone to bed earlier?” At the weekends I would have a decadent lie in (damn you, old me!!), but often with a fuzzy head from a night out: I never fully appreciated you in your purest form.

Now I want you; I want you more than ever. Only getting two hours of you has been torture. Four hours last week was incredible, but horrific! Because it has given me a taste of what four hours sleep used to be! If four hours sleep is that good, then what was eight like?! I was such a lucky, lucky girl to have you completely at my disposal. I am sorry for wasting you.

Please come back. I promise I will appreciate every hour, minute and second of our time together. At least let’s just have one night and see where we go from there. I know I sound desperate, yet I cannot stop myself. Sleep, you are my one, my only, my everything.






12 thoughts on “Dear Sleep

  1. I love it! Sleep is officially my bestist friend and I miss him so much (read: “turn into an evil raging zombie”) when he is cruelly snatched from me by a vomiting infant (last night), or a small person screaming because her throat hurts (last night) or a tiny human complaining that the water in her beaker is cold (last night). We’ve come away for a relaxing family weekend and I remember specifically inviting sleep to come too! I think he must have lost the invite. Hmmmf.

    Brilliant post and I can absolutely relate!
    Dawn x

    Liked by 1 person

  2. If you ever meet up with sleep again, can you tell him that I am feeling neglected by him too 🙂 thank goodness for coffee … and cake… xxx #bigpinklink

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Oh I love this… For so many reasons! Firstly, it’s brilliant! So well written! Secondly, it’s so true!! I often think about punching myself in the head for not appreciating the uninterrupted time I had the opportunity to sleep whenever, wherever, and for how long I wanted. Why did I not bask in the glorious luxury? And thirdly, I just had a fabulous trip down memory lane-remembering all the things I used to do as a child, that evidently you did as well!!
    I know you’ve it really tough at the moment because you have a newborn, but just keep telling yourself, Gollam style, ‘soon….’ Soon there will be more sleep…! Hang in there!
    Thanks so much for sharing with #bigpinklink

    Liked by 1 person

  4. I hope he forgives you and welcome you back with open arms. Is it better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all? I shall keep you in my thoughts and prayers 😉 Great post, gave me a good chuckle 🙂 xxx #BigPinkLinky

    Liked by 1 person

  5. Haha, there’s no way of preparing yourself for the lack of sleep when you have a baby! Everyone told me and I just shrugged it off, ‘yeah yeah, I’ve had nights of no sleep before’ but it’s totally different! Here’s to us all getting some much needed sleep asap. Thanks for linking up to #MarvMondays. Kaye xo

    Liked by 1 person

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