“Hey, Mike,” I heard someone at work say above the din of conveyor belts, diesel truck engines, and squeaky overhead fans. I looked up from my international paperwork to see a manager walking toward me. “Are you an insomniac,” he asked as he came closer.
Caught off-guard, I responded, “Big time. For more than thirty years.” I asked him how he knew, and he said that my manager told him about my insomnia and about this blog you’re reading.
His questions came fast: “How many nights per week do you sleep?” “Do you take any medication?” “What do you take?” “How do you live with it?” “Is there a cure?” And several more questions.
He went on to explain his situation, albeit briefly. He’s had it for about ten years but doesn’t know how to resolve his problem. As any chronic insomniac does, he’s looking for a way to rid himself of his nightmare (no pun intended) and is seeking help from a more experienced insomniac.
In all of my years with this condition, no one has asked me blatantly if I’m an insomniac. In fact, in my circle of family, friends, acquaintances, and co-workers, I’ve never known another chronic insomniac personally. So you can imagine my surprise when I heard his inquiry. In a negative sort of way, it made me feel good to finally meet another insomniac.
It’s hard to believe after thirty years, but now I know another person who knows exactly how I feel on the day after a sleepless or near-sleepless night. Non-insomniacs have no idea. Only other insomniacs do.
I answered his questions the best that I could, but the problem–and the point of this anecdote–is…I couldn’t tell him how to cure his problem. Since insomnia has so many different causes, it’s impossible to pinpoint the cause and tell others how to resolve their sleeping problems.
Even the medical professionals I’ve seen over the years haven’t been able to tell me specifically how to cure my insomnia. The doctor I started seeing in 1995 determined the correct medication and dosage for me with little trial and error involved. And while I still have bad nights, my insomnia isn’t nearly as bad as it was prior to her intervention.
As terrible as insomnia is, and as much as we want to help others with their sleep problems, one insomniac cannot tell another how to overcome his or her problem. Simply having chronic insomnia is inconsequential when trying to help someone overcome their insomnia.
During our five-minute meeting, my only empathic offering was, “Don’t use alcohol as a sleep aid.” He certainly has my sympathy, for what little good that does.
Although I’ve had ample time, I’ve never considered what my response would be to my first encounter with another chronic insomniac. Now that I think more about our short conversation, I feel that my response was not what it should have been, or at least not what I would have liked for it to have been. I’d love to have been able to say, “Sure I can help you. This is what you should do to eliminate your insomnia. All you have to do is…” But I couldn’t. I don’t have that kind of knowledge. I’d love to be able to tell everyone how to cure their insomnia, but I can’t even cure my own.
Mike
