Kpin freedom: My unmedicated sleep project.

It was mid-September 2023 when I became aware – because two family members brought to my attention as soon as they found out – that long-term benzodiazepine usage could result in early-onset dementia. My nightly very-low-dose of Klonopin helped me to sleep for years. Without it, I would go to bed, lie down, and have a panic attack. My anxiety led to insomnia and nightmares. Kpin knocked me out. It took just a tiny crumble of a dose, and I (perhaps miraculously) never developed an addiction. How wonderful it was, though! How well I slept! But I was about to marry a man considerably younger than myself, and I knew that I needed to do everything possible to spare him a wife with early-onset dementia. I decided to quit Kpin immediately.

I contacted my shrink right away and let him know that I wanted off of Kpin. Thus began my odyssey of benzodiazepine tapering-off, a process that took months. With professional guidance and in accordance with the printed schedule given to me, I very gradually weaned myself off of the drug. Referring to the schedule with studied diligence, I applied myself to the effort even as the year continued with its onslaught of challenges. It was especially difficult in the wake of the death of Nenette, my cat, but I soldiered on.

To start me along on my tapering-off journey, my doctor prescribed Trazodone, a non-narcotic sleep medication. I took it one time, and never again. It didn’t help in the slightest with my anxiety-induced insomnia, and I felt foggy in the brain for hours the next day.

Next, I tried melatonin for a short while. It was even more dissatisfactory. I could feel it working to make me sleepy, blissfully so, but at the same time, my restless legs went from occasional and mild to every night and severe. It was maddening and absolutely inconducive to sleep. When I looked up melatonin side effects, a worsening of restless legs was on the list. Next.

I did some research and visited a local dispensary, where I made an educated choice. I brought home a low-THC/high-CBD product, cut each gummy into four slivers, and ate just one each night. It might have worked just enough, but not enough that I felt that the gummies were worth the expense. Not enough to be conclusive. I didn’t want to take more than a quarter of a dose at a time. I planned to look elsewhere for a solution once I finished the container.

At that point, turning my attention to yet more natural remedies, I started using lavender body lotion at night and spraying my side of the bed with lavender room spray. No improvement. The therapy part of “aromatherapy” just wasn’t enough.

I started wearing an eye mask, my comfortable old gel-filled sleep mask that I’d rarely used. It was lovely, but it didn’t help much, either.

Camomile tea, then, I thought. I’ll continue with the lavender products and add a cup of camomile tea to my nightly routine. Still no significant improvement, yet I felt that I was getting somewhere. The tea was definitely soothing.

Something was missing from my developing regimen. What could it be? What could extinguish the rafting clamor of thoughts in my brain as I tried to fall asleep?

White noise might work, I realized.

Kyle had a Google Nest Mini that he said would play nature sounds upon command. He unearthed it from the box whence it was stashed, and we set it up next to my side of the bed. I instructed it to play ocean sounds. It did. That same night, after drinking my camomile tea, I ventured to boost my aromatherapy game and deposited a drop of pure lavender essential oil to the top of my eye mask, on the inside. I ditched the lavender spray and used the lavender lotion on just my hands, which I can take or leave on any given night (it’s not an essential component of the combination).

And lo, my friends. Hallelujah! That did it. The magic combination yielded results that night with no ill effects, and the next night, and all the nights thereafter. The deep scent of lavender works with the calming effect of the camomile tea, and, most importantly, the ocean sounds white noise lulls me to sleep, my eyelids heavy beneath the gel eye mask that blocks any ambient light in the room.

Sleeping better these days.

I’ve finally arrived at my perfect sleep-inducing trifecta. 

My sleep routine involves a mug of hot camomile tea, “ocean sounds” white noise emitted softly from a Google Nest Mini, and a sleep mask anointed with a single drop of lavender essential oil. 

Now I just need to work on getting to bed earlier, as always. That was always my struggle, benzo or no benzo. Maybe one day I’ll have found a way to master this, though I don’t think there’s really a fix to being an inherent night owl.

If you’ve made it this far in your reading, thank you. I wanted to share my experiences in benzodiazepine-tapering and also in disordered sleep, namely insomnia, in hopes that my story will help even one of you. Not to mention, I’m so grateful for this combination solution to insomnia – relaxing herbal tea, aromatherapy, and white noise – that I didn’t want to keep it to myself. For me, it’s a godsend of a sleep package.

Enjoy your week and stay safe and healthy, my friends. Good night!

Transitions! (New Schedule)

I’ve been inconsistent here these last few weeks as I’ve been adjusting to a new schedule, namely, having one again.

 

My agenda (Franklin-Covey)

My agenda (Franklin-Covey)

 

Naturally cut out for a structured life, I thrive in the rootedness that routine provides. Living with a crazy spontaneous artist has been a healthy counter-balance to this, but I’m happy to resume the habit of setting the alarm and getting out of the house by a certain time in the mornings. This has required re-calibration of my inner clocks, which have been at liberty to run amok for a long time now, it seems!

While I personally enjoy mapping out my day, it’s been a while since I’ve done it on a regular basis, so being able to ease back into the practice as my current circumstances allow has been a fortunate thing.

My inner clocks are usually in need of re-calibration, anyway. For one thing, they often tick at odds with other peoples’ inner clocks. I’m remembering how my X had been put-upon by my middle-of-the-night inner clock when it would clang, “YAY ENERGY!!! IT’S PAST MIDNIGHT – NOW IS THE PERFECT TIME TO CLEAN THE BATHROOM!!”

“I just don’t understand it,” he’d mutter with annoyance, pillow half over his head as I whizzed around (though silently, ninja-like, so I never really understand why it bothered him) with the all-purpose spray cleaner. “It’s like you get a second burst of energy in the middle of the night.”

“Energy” was the operative word, I guess. He was sensitive to the energies of others; regardless of my earnest attempts at silence, the underlying waves of my stirred-up, midnight oil energy disturbed his own sleep schedule. The poor guy had a hard time getting me to sleep “early,” but over time he did manage to cure me of my inability to resist the urge to clean things at 2:00AM.

Now, I hardly clean at all.

See how that works? My X had to put up with me cleaning the bathroom in the middle of the night. Now, Callaghan has to put up with me not cleaning. (I exaggerate. Of course I clean… every once in a while. He cleans the bathroom more often than I do, though.)

In my defense, I don’t think I ever actually planned to clean the bathroom in the middle of the night. It always started rather innocuously. I’ll just wipe this area here around the sink. Then, since I’m doing that, I might as well do the mirror. A process would emerge. Next thing I knew, the whole bathroom would be underway.

Where my X had to deal with my late-night cleaning inclinations, Callaghan has to deal with my late-night, over-active train of thought. Such as it is that he’s established what he calls the “11:00PM Rule,” meaning, he’s placed a moratorium on “thinking about things” at 11PM. That’s right… 11:00PM is Last Call for “freaking out” at our place. “Otherwise, you wouldn’t ever sleep,” he says, reasonably.

And it’s true… I’ve had a hard time falling asleep for years now. Recently, too, this all changed, but not because of the 11:00PM Rule. The change just happened to coincide with when I started oil-pulling exactly two weeks ago. Somehow, I haven’t experienced insomnia since Day One of experimentation with that ancient and now-trendy practice. This was not an effect I’d anticipated when I started. It’s been completely wonderful.

 

My alarm clock. It's 11:00PM!

My alarm clock. It’s 11:00PM!

 

Anyway, all of this to say that my schedule has changed, including my writing schedule here… I’m in a transition phase, and things will even out eventually!

This Post Contains Sleep-Laughing, Stevie the 4-Runner, Movies and the End of an Era

I often experience insomnia and nightmares pending a big move. It happened when I was getting ready to move out to the Superstition Mountains. It happened when I was getting ready to move to France. It even happened when we were getting ready to move here!

Now, another big move is pending, but instead of having sleep issues, I’ve been sleeping very well… and last night, something totally bizarre happened. I had a dream in which Callaghan and I were laughing boisterously at something (I wish I could remember what). Suddenly, I found myself awake, and Callaghan was laughing and saying, “You were laughing! Really loudly!”

Can you believe it? I actually woke Callaghan up because I was laughing in my sleep. Unheard-of! I opened my eyes laughing and he was laughing, too, just as he was in the dream, because my sleep-laughter was infectious, he said. We snuggled close, laughing and kissing each other back to sleep. It was sweet and weird and different and awesome.

I think I can take this as a sign that moving back to Arizona is the right thing to do.

We had a busy, fun and emotional weekend.

Busy because: We got some boxes, did some packing, and reserved a trailer. We knew we’d eventually see the end of our blissfully unfettered non-vehicle-owing days… they came to a screeching halt when we bought an old (1999) Toyota 4-Runner last week in preparation for our move to Arizona. We got a truck because a) we prefer them, b) cargo space, and c) trailer hitch. We named her Stevie, after Arizona native Stevie Nicks. She rocks! She’s not the worst gas-guzzler we’ve ever seen, so that’s good. We can strap Ronnie James and Nounours safely in the back seat in their respective carriers, load up the rear cargo area and hook the trailer to the back so we can drag the material contents of our lives across the expanse of Texas, New Mexico and Arizona we need to cover to reach our destination. No airplanes, movers or shippers for us this time!

 

Stevie, dressed in black, just like her rock star namesake! Callaghan got creative with the blurring out of her plate.

Stevie, dressed in black, just like her rock star namesake! Callaghan got creative with the blurring out of her plate.

 

Fun because: We spent all Saturday afternoon right up into the evening ensconced in movie theaters. We do this thing where we wait until there are several films out that we want to see, and then we spend a whole day watching them back to back. The last time, we went for Pacific Rim, The Conjuring and The Heat. This time, it was Prisoners, Rush and Gravity… and again, it was well worth it. The films ranged from very good (Prisoners) to great (Rush) to OUT-OF-THS-WORLD stunning (Gravity), with plenty of thrills all around.

Emotional because: After we emerged from the theater, we headed to a nearby McDonald’s to get online (their free internet is the best thing on the menu!) and check our phone messages. This led to finding out that my Grandma had died earlier in the day, in Hawaii, where she’d lived all 99 years of her life. She was ready to go. She went to sleep and dreamed herself a peaceful, painless end to a life that had been rich and fulfilling. Devout Buddhists in the Japanese Jodo Shinshu tradition, she and Grandpa had derived a lot of joy from the work they did for decades at their hongwanji (Buddhist temple) in Kahului, so our family will get together there next summer to memorialize them both.

She was my last Grandparent. It’s an odd new circumstance, not having Grandparents.