There is Nothing to Fear But Sleep Itself. Why is That?

I’m too scared to sleep at night. I’m not afraid of much in life, but for some reason, I fear sleep. This fear creeps on me when my husband is away.

As an active military wife, I’m not afraid of much. I have a well-trained German shepherd always at my side, I have my husband’s pistol and am not afraid to use it, and I have pretty awesome reflexes. I remember when my husband and I were first dating, he thought it would be funny to jump out of a dark shadowy corner as I was leaving a room and to try to startle me. My immediate response was to duck down, turn and punch him as hard as I could. That was when he knew I was “the one” for him.

I am not afraid of the noises in the house at night, or the wind, or the train going by. I am not afraid of strangers knocking on my doorstep or cars that seem like they are following me everywhere. I am constantly aware of my surroundings and who might be watching me.

I am not afraid of doing balsy or even reckless things at work, if I feel it is the right path to take. I am not afraid of bullies or even evil catty women in the workplace. I was not afraid when I lost my job and got a bad evaluation.

I typically only fear one being and that is God himself and facing Him someday when it’s all said and done. I want to hear the words, “well done good and faithful servant.” I want to know that in the face of terror, I chose faith and took the high road.

For some reason, despite all the things I don’t fear, sleep remains my largest giant I have yet master. I don’t know what it is. Even when I’m so tired I could fall over at any minute and have a hard time keeping my eyes open, something keeps alert. Once I’m asleep, I’ll have a hard time waking up, but getting to sleep is a battle in itself.

Some nights (work nights usually) I’ll stay up until midnight, sometimes even 2am, fighting sleep. It’s like I can’t face my bed. I am still trying to figure out the psychology behind this-I mean what is so scary about a bed?

A pillow might sound so inviting too, but maybe it’s not the bed itself. Perhaps it’s another night all alone.

There are so many ironies:

When my husband is home, I fall asleep even before bedtime. Sometimes I’ll just pass out while watching television with him. Yet when he’s gone, I’m wired.

When my husband is home, I am also quite the bed hog. Yet, when he’s gone, I go to sleep and wake up on my side of the bed, his side completely untouched.

When my husband is home, I have a hard time waking up and will press snooze umpteen times-which I know annoys him to no end because he never goes back to sleep. Yet, when he’s gone, I often get up the first time the alarm goes off and can’t sleep. I get up earlier when he’s gone than when he’s home.

Perhaps he’s an added security and with his absence, I am restless. Once he’s home, all is well, and I can put my guard down. I am not completely sure about that, but so far that is best I can come up with.

To all you psychoanalysts out there, riddle me this: why do I fear sleep?