my life as a list (insomnia)

Sleep has always been my friend, refuge, escape. I've sought out her still veil whenever the noise of waking life has felt too much. Feigning illness as a primary school child + retreating to the sick bay. A kind of broom closet for the unwell where I would slip in + out of darkness on a hard camp stretcher, lulled by the clack of typewriter keys from the adjoining office, waiting for someone to come + fetch me.

I developed an illicit addiction to Days of our Lives + longed for our sagging, rose-patterned couch, for Brooke + Beau + the full parade of unlikely hair-dos to leap back into my life. My understanding of plot was limited. I would have struggled to keep up if I'd seen it every day, no chance with a handful of episodes each year. But it didn't matter. There was something about the drama, the intensity, the long soapie stares, that was soothing + infinitely preferable to school.

After my fix I would head to bed + sleep until someone came to coo over me. I felt more noticed in sickness than in health. It was definitely the only time I had access to trash tv. Sometimes Mum would bring home a bottle of dry ginger ale, the forbidden elixir of soft drink, one of the best attentions available.

I was at home alone when Brian died. Danny called to tell me + I knew from the first sound that came from his mouth, the first breath, that Brian was gone. I was thirteen. I think it was November. It was my first real experience of loss. It wasn't unexpected, but when it came I didn't know what to do with it, where to put it. The emotions stormed around me + I went straight to bed, waking only to relay the news to my family.

The tears wouldn't stop the next morning. I walked into school + the corridors cleared in front of me, like parting seas. Burly Year 10s making way for this little girl grieving. The only time I felt space + respect within that first tumultuous year of high school. Our grief was real + it was treated that way. We gathered in the school hall + cried together.

Sleep had always been my friend, refuge, escape. My Saturday afternoon luxury. My healer, rejuvenator, loyal companion. My retreat in times of grief + sadness. Pete used to say that if sleeping was an olympic sport I could win gold for Australia. Then he went + broke my heart. Insomnia made itself known as my unpredictable nemesis. Sometimes the bed is a saviour. Sometimes the bed is a battleground. Perhaps we all know that on some level.