Ending insomnia, one relaxing whiff at a time

By Penny Stine
Friday, March 19, 2010

After absolutely no research and hours spent whining to various friends, acquaintances and strangers, I’m convinced that the adult population can be separated into two distinct statistical pools: those who frequently experience insomnia and those who don’t go through life in a perpetual fog of cranky drowsiness.

As someone who has spent a good portion of my adult life trying to fall back asleep at three in the morning, I’m continually amazed by people who have never experienced insomnia. I shouldn’t be surprised, however, since my husband is usually a horizontal sleeper – the minute his head hits the pillow and he’s horizontal, he’s out like a light. In fact, he doesn’t even have to be horizontal; he can fall asleep as soon as he sits down on the couch to watch TV.

I’ve discovered that many marriages are blessed with one partner who can’t sleep and one who can. Frankly, I’m amazed that more marriages don’t end in homicide. It’s so annoying to be wide awake, idly wondering how long it’s been since you’ve cleaned the litter box or whether you have any soy sauce in the fridge, while Mr. Horizontal snores on, peacefully dreaming about motorcycles and golf.

From his perspective, it must be equally annoying to be minding your own business, innocently enjoying the slumber of the blessed, only to be awakened not once, but several times a night by a partner who tosses and turns in bed like a breaching humpback whale.

I’ve tried counting backwards from 300; I’ve tried Ambien. I’ve tried deep breathing, toe-to-head relaxation exercises, melatonin, Simply Sleep, counting sheep, a glass of wine, reciting scriptures, saying prayers and visualizing a peaceful place. I can visualize world peace; I can visualize whirled peas. I can bring home the bacon and I can fry it up in a pan. I cannot go to bed, fall asleep and stay that way until my alarm wakes me.

In my never-ending quest to enjoy more than one night’s sleep in any given week, I hosted an aromatherapy gathering at my house the other night. I should preface that by saying I’m not a crystal wearing, reiki practicing, alternative medicine advocate. I don’t know what my chakra is, and have no interest in learning how to balance it, placate it or become one with it. I also can’t stand regular massage and am about as touchy-feely as a prickly pear cactus. It was in that spirit of healthy skepticism that I subjected myself to an aromatherapy massage in front of several friends and coworkers, complements of the DoTerra representative who came to the Daily Sentinel’s Women’s Expo.

After half an hour of gentle massage using essential oils, and lots of laughter from the crowd around me, I melted into a little puddle of contented relaxation. My back tingled pleasantly, my mind was calm and stress-free and a plane could have landed on my rooftop without arousing any reaction from me.

When I went to bed a few hours later, I fell asleep, only to be awakened by the cat scratching at the door less than an hour later. I got up to let the cat in, which is usually a sure-fire way to usher in an hour or two of tossing and turning. Instead, I fell back asleep and stayed that way until the alarm rang.

Was it the massage? Was it the essential oils used during the massage? Was it the glass of wine I drank after the massage? Was it the companionship of my coworkers and friends who gathered or the brilliant conversation of my hubby afterward? Was it all in my head? How should I know?

All I know is that I’m forking over the bucks to buy the aromatherapy massage kit, which includes a DVD to demonstrate proper technique. I figure if my hubby and I both learn how to give decent aromatherapy massages, we’ll appreciate each other in a brand new way, strengthen our marriage and maybe even become one with the universe. OK, so that last one is a stretch beyond anyone’s imagination, but really, I think if I slept like that once a week it would be an amazing improvement.

The only negative aspect of my experiment with aromatherapy is that it carried over into the next day. I woke up relaxed and refreshed. I went to work, chilled out and stress-free. I zoned out when I was driving to an interview and almost missed my turn; twice I left stuff in my car that I meant to bring in to the office, and it took me twice as long to finish this column as it normally would. Relaxed yes, mentally sharp, not so much.

The bottom line? I may still be in a fog, but at least it’s a happy and content fog rather than a frustrated and grumpy one.

Penny Stine is a staff writer for Real Estate Weekly. She welcomes your comments at penny.stine@

gjsentinel.com.