I’m in the beginning stages of a bout of insomnia. I get these bouts about once every two years. They tend to last about three weeks to a month. It’s really not that bad. I mean, it isn’t something that is terrible. It’s not as terrible as everyone makes it out to be. If I could try to describe it in as few words as possible, it feels as if I am insulated from the environment around me. I’m witnessing it, but not participating. There is a fine layer of gel covering my whole body in a cocoon. It insultes me, it slows me down, but it is comforting at the same time. Things don’t bother me as much, and my tolerance to heat and cold is expanded. My thought process is slower, but at a more regular tempo. I appear more calm, if not subdued, to others - like someone who just had a seizure. It slips me into a slight depression, but my thoughts are more clear.
I don’t know what causes these occasional bouts of insomnia. I’m no more stressed than at any other time. No illnesses. It just arrives like an unexpected guest.
But the biggest thing about insomnia is that it fools with your sense of time, and the rate at which it passes. Suddenly, it doesn’t matter that it is 2 am, and dark out. You need scotch tape right now, and there are no stores open. I’ll look up at the clock, and then again five minutes later, only to see that two hours have passed, or vice versa. Sometimes it feels like time has stopped and reversed. There is no beginning and end to a day. The morning is simply an extension of the previous night. The morning is the same as the night, just a couple hours later.
My other current, and long term personal problem, is lack of sex. Despite the shield of insomnia above, the sex problem still comes through loud and clear. I am married. I have been married for three years now. I can pinpoint the exact moment when my wife decided that she didn’t like sex anymore, and I recognized this as a problem. It was on the second day of our honeymoon. Yes. I know. Despressing.
The conversations and arguments about this subject are so well worn between us that they have become condensed down to an angry look on my face, her saying, “What’s wrong?” Then me saying, “Problem.”
We are at a stalemate. She doesn’t like sex, just like she doesn’t like Tapioca pudding. No amount of Tapioca will make her ever like it. I’m averaging it less than once a month. Sex, not Tapioca. I nag her. She looks annoyed. She gives in. If it is against her will, then it feels like I am raping her, and she cries. But it is not worth it to wait up to three months for 5 minutes of spoiling something that should be much better. The longing and desperation on my part, during the times inbetween, seems pointless - to long for something that will only disappoint me.
But I have never been lucky in the realm of sex. I’m going to be straight with you all. I’m average, if not better than average, in physical attractiveness. I have a healthy and realistic image of my body. I’m also funny and witty. But my unluckiness in love has been my own fault, but not for lack of trying.
Early on, I broke up with my girlfriend in high school to join the Marine Corps. That was basically four years of celebacy. I then met my wife coming right out of the Corps. So it has been just one long term round of celebacy after another since high school. And, it’s my own damn fault.
Thanks for listening.
Yogini