For the past view months, my sleep has sucked. I thought it was due to stress I’ve had at work, but wasn’t convinced that was the source of my poor sleep. A couple nights ago, I solved the mystery of my sleep discomfort.
It was 3 am. I was lying in bed, feeling itchy, hot and cold, uncomfortable, and pissed that I was awake and lying next to the male Sleeping Beauty who was oblivious to my tossing and turning. It was at that moment that I realized: I hate sharing my bed with my husband.
Sleep is precious. But even more than sleep, my bed is precious. No, wait, homeostasis in my bed is even more precious.
I grew up in a house filled with people, but I always had my own bed. I am, what I like to call, a “clean” sleeper. I can only sleep comfortably in a bed that’s been made, and made well. I can sleep the whole night in one position, on one side of the bed. I don’t thrash around. I have woken up with the bedsheets, blankets, and duvet still intact. I sleep best when the sheet and duvet are evenly distributed over my body and bed. I am also the lightest sleeper ever. If the doorknob turns, my eyes flutter open.
And so, simply put, I have a good night’s sleep when my bed and bedroom are in a homeostatic state.
Sharing a bed with J has upset my homeostasis. His sleep style is the exact opposite of mine. He crumples the sheets and blankets. He piles the duvet in the middle of the bed. He sleeps with one leg out of the sheets, one leg in. He elbows me in the back. He snores and makes funny sounds. He rolls over to my side of the bed, placing me dangerously close to the precipice of the bed. And after I elbow him in the ribs and tell him to move, he rolls away and takes the blanket with him, leaving me with an unevenly distributed duvet, feeling cold and annoyed. When I try to grab my section of the duvet, I met with the resistance of 200 pounds “of pure muscle” (J asked me to type in those last 3 words. *insert rolly eyes here*).
So, what’s the solution?I’ve heard that sleeping in separate beds is the key to a happy marriage. I never believed that, until now. J has spent the last 3 of the 4 nights on the couch–his decision, not my suggestion. He claims it’s the best sleep he’s had because I’m not constantly poking him in the eye and ribs. Sleeping without him is also pretty sweet for me. Unfortunately, we don’t have space for a king-size bed or even–gasp!– two twin beds.
I do miss seeing his face first thing in the morning. I do miss cuddling with him in bed. I do miss the intimacy of sleeping together. But, the question is, do I miss all of that more than a good night’s sleep?