Sleep for the Body, Peace for the Soul

Even before I truly understood how vital sleep is to health, I cherished it. During my years as a college student, then medical student, resident, and new mother, I was often sleep-deprived. As a family medicine physician, being “on-call” every third night only added to the fatigue, nay exhaustion. I’m still making up for lost sleep—if that’s even possible.

Now, sleep has become a kind of Olympic sport for me. I have no trouble practicing the sleep hygiene I preach to my patients. Every morning, I get up at the same time—5:15 AM. I anchor my body clock by stepping outside before 9 AM for several minutes enjoying the morning sun as the visible spectrum of light passes through my retina and stimulates the suprachiasmatic nucleus ensuring the proper release of melatonin from my pineal gland after the sun goes down. I stick to my caffeine curfew: 9 AM, my food curfew: 6pm, and my screen curfew: 7 pm. I wear blue blockers if I have to be in front of a screen after the sun goes down, as the blue light from screens decreases melatonin release. I make sure to exercise throughout the day to build up “sleep pressure.” My phone charges in another room instead of on my nightstand so I’m not tempted to look at it. I have a consistent bedtime routine: stretching, deep breathing, and prayers of gratitude. I brush my teeth, take magnesium, slip between the cold sheets in my cool darkened bedroom and I’m sleeping like a champ for a glorious eight hours.

Why? Because sleep is good medicine. It’s when and how the body clears out the toxic byproducts of stress and the countless biochemical reactions that occur automatically in the brain and body throughout the day. It’s the time for restoration, repair, and recharging. People who prioritize sleep and sleep well live longer with less chronic diseases. And now there are so many ways to track sleep with apps and wearable devices. Sleep is a vital sign.

So these last several days of poor sleep have been especially troubling for me. And I know exactly why I’m not sleeping well—I injured my neck during a recent quilting marathon. I was determined to finish whipstitching the binding on a quilt for my mother for her birthday, and I thought fine needlework during the drive to Bend would be the perfect use of time. In reality, being hunched over in the back seat for three hours like a body contortionist was a disaster for my neck. I fall asleep fine, but whenever I move and turn my neck, I wake up in excruciating pain.

Experiencing poor sleep firsthand has given me a much deeper understanding and appreciation for my patients who struggle with getting quality rest. It is easy to see how self-care takes a back seat. Waking up feeling groggy can sap motivation and energy, making it difficult to engage in healthy habits such as preparing nutritious meals or finding the drive to exercise.

Lack of sleep also significantly affects decision-making. When I am tired, I notice how easy it is to gravitate toward quick and convenient foods, which are far more tempting than usual. Even my non-negotiables are hard to negotiate. I asked my husband to make me a chocolate milkshake, something I would not typically crave. At least I added chia seeds to it.

It’s probably time for some body work, like massage or physical therapy.

Worse than the pain, though, is waking up and worrying.

Worrying at night isn’t new for me. I often fret about finances, perseverate about projects, obsess about obligations, or dwell on disputes. Typically, I can coach myself off any cliff and get right back to sleeping like a baby.

This time, however, my usual strategies—thought dumping, deep breathing, visualization, prayer, and meditation—aren’t working. My mind keeps spinning, and restful sleep mocks me. Even an insomniac would empathize with my sleepless nights.

This time, I am worrying about my daughter. She was recently engaged to be married.  And of course, I am over the moon happy for her. Interestingly though, being the mother of the bride is altogether different than being the mother of the groom. Sure, I am more involved in the wedding plans. There are so many decisions not to mention complicated relationship dynamics. I chuckle over the vision I had of Elena’s father dancing in front of her like a whirling dervish. I tried to protect her from the clouds of commotion that were brewing, but instead I got caught up in them and caused more commotion myself. Poor Kenny had to anchor me down by tying a rope around my waist while Elena’s fiancé did the same for her.

That is certainly taking up some of the real estate of my night watches. At least I can laugh at myself, which is another strategy that helps me get back to sleep. But that’s not the half of it.

Elena is getting married. And I am wondering if I have I done everything for her that she needs, if I have taught her enough, if I have nurtured her well. Have I been a good role model for her? As her mother, I mean.

While Jacob’s engagement and wedding brought up latent grief that gently requested tender loving care, Elena’s engagement is uncovering even more layers which seem to be screaming for attention. Grief often wants to point the finger of blame. What was that saying when we were kids?” When you point a finger, there are three fingers pointing back at you.”

This is what screeches at me when I wake up in pain. I think about all the ways I have fallen short as her mom and all the things I could still do that might make a difference in her life. But is there still time for me to be her mom. I frantically conjure up the perfect scenario and search for the perfect words and the perfect timing. And I rehearse them over and over.  So I can undo what I did wrong and do now what I didn’t do then. So I can rescue her. So I can save her.

And when I realize that whatever it is I have figured out won’t work, I sit straight up in bed, heart racing, face flushed, in a cold sweat.

Save her from what? She does not need saving. She’s not dying.

I glance at the glowing red numbers on the clock: 3:33am. I lay back down and stare at the ceiling until the alarm goes off.

After a week of this madness, I decide to reach out for help. Yes, I need body work, but more than that, I need heart work. I check in with my accountability partner and ask for prayer. I call my sisters. I schedule a session with my coach. They are so skilled at active listening, reflecting, and asking nonjudgmental questions with curiosity and not criticism.

These safe conversations give space for me to observe the guilt that still clings to me. Those twenty-nine years ago, the story I am telling myself is that I did not do enough when Sammy, Elena’s younger brother, fell ill very suddenly. And he died. If only! If only! That powerful “if only” belief that has been pushing me around and haunting me is now bullying me with Elena. Amy asks what I would say to this younger version of me.

Another picture comes to my mind. I am on the sidelines of Team Elena, running up and down the field. God is the coach and I am chomping at the bit. “Put me in, Coach! Put me in!”

My own coach wisely inquires, “and what is God saying?”

Perhaps Jeremiah 29: I know the plans I have for Elena (and you, beloved Julie). Isaiah 55:8-9 For my thoughts are not your thoughts, and my ways are not your ways. Philippians 1:6 I have begun a good work in both of you and I will be faithful to complete it. John 14:27 My peace I give you. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.

“Beautiful,” the coach affirms and then offers Psalm 84:3 Even the sparrow has found a home, and the swallow a nest for herself, where she may have her young – a place near Your altar.

And now I see God smiling and I hear God reassuring me that He has always been and always will be right here. “I’m right here and I’m letting Elena call the plays. Let’s you and I cheer her on.” And rather than resisting, I stand in wonder that I am not in control and that’s the way it’s supposed to be. I stand in amazement at the beautifully imperfect human being I am allowed to be. I could never be a perfect mom, not for Sammy and not for Elena. And that’s ok.  Actually, wow, that’s such a relief!

We don’t have to be perfect, you and I. Instead, in our humanity, we are lovingly invited to live in the grace of God, the redemption of Jesus, and the comfort of the Holy Spirit.

“The beginning of love is to let those we love be perfectly themselves, and not to twist them to fit our own image. Otherwise, we love only the reflection of ourselves we find in them.” Thomas Merton.

I scheduled a massage for myself and am happy to report that though I still have some neck pain, I am slumbering soundly once again.

Sleep, I am learning is healing for the body. Peace is healing for the soul.

I will lay down and sleep in peace, for You alone, O Lord make me dwell in safety. Psalm 4:8