I’ve never been a great sleeper. Even when my mood is relatively “good”, sleep is not something that comes naturally easily to me. When, as is currently the case, my mood is at the lower end of its cycle, sleep becomes rare indeed. At the moment everything is out of kilter. During the working week, I can consider myself fortunate if I manage more than a couple of hours of unbroken sleep during the course of a night, and I seldom manage more than a total of four or five hours. The quality of the sleep I manage to get is generally pretty poor. By the time the weekend rolls round, I am pretty much running on empty. It’s not unheard of for me to spend an entire weekend curled up on the sofa. This, of course, is counter-productive. Most sleep discipline theories say that I should keep the same routine at the weekends as I do during the week; getting up at the same time, and going to bed at the same time. My mind knows this. All my body knows is that it is exhausted. It is a ment
Just a man, sharing his thoughts and words; trying to make the worls a happier place, one naughty hashtag at a time.