STAY - The Power of Meditating in God's Presence (eBook)

PROLOGUE

I lie there, eyes wide open, not sleepy - tired yes, but not sleepy. No problem, I guess I’ll read for a bit. I love reading in bed. Reading never fails...

Glyn lies next to me having dropped off to sleep within minutes. After fifteen years of marriage it never ceases to amaze me how quickly my husband can fall asleep. It’s as if he sleeps the sleep of the dead. No, that’s not it. Glyn sleeps like a child that doesn’t have a care in the world - a child whose life is simple and safe.

I love watching my children sleep. I love that they live in a home where they don’t have to worry about how life is going to turn out. They take each day as it comes, secure in the knowledge they are surrounded by a loving family. Whatever happens, everything will be all right.

Sleep.

It is not something I’ve thought much about. I mean who thinks about sleep? I remember when I was young getting so tired when my parents were out visiting friends that I would get to the point of desperation and literally curl up on the floor at their feet. I would fall asleep in the midst of the din of animated conversation until they were ready to go home.

Later as a married woman, when entertaining guests for dinner, I would reach the same point of desperation. A ‘normal’ person would be able to stay awake beyond 9:30pm but not me; in spite of all my best efforts the lure of sleep was too strong - is too strong. Inevitably after dinner we would be chatting in the lounge and the time would approach 9.30pm and I could feel it happening. My eyes would start to droop. Straining to keep them open I would try to follow the conversation. What are we talking about? What’s so funny? I’ve missed the punch line.

I would now want to sleep so much I would feel a surge of distress and despair. I just want to sleep. Frequently I would lose the battle all together and nap right there on the floor. “Typical Soph,” our friends would say.

I had known people who struggle with sleep but what I had never understood is how on earth you could get to the point where you cannot sleep. My problem wasn’t falling asleep but staying awake!

WIRED IN THE NIGHT

It’s 1.00am.

Now it’s 2.00am.

Okay, so reading hasn’t worked but I’m not worried. I pull out the ‘never fails’ solution - my Bible. Over the years it has always been an effective sleeping aid. I have all the best intentions of finishing my day communing with the Lord through His Word. I love delving into passages of Scripture, finding gems of wisdom then writing them all down in my journal. Except that in bed this almost never happens. I find myself asleep before I’m aware of what I’m reading.

Reading the Bible is so powerful; it’s like a heady sleep potion. Somehow, someone has laced the pages with chloroform. I haven’t fallen asleep so much as passed out. I wake the next morning with no memory of reading anything and amazed all over again how quickly I have nodded off when I’ve opened the Bible.

It’s so weird.

I read a chapter then another chapter…

What’s going on? It’s not working. Why am I feeling wired?

I recognise the feeling. It’s that same apprehension I used to experience whenever I was about to take an exam and I had left studying for it, or rather cramming for it, until the night before. It’s the same feeling as when at my primary school they made me do the 100 metres sprint and fear would grip my stomach. There I was, far from being an athlete, not interested in the slightest in our annual sports day and about to display my lack of talent for all my teachers, classmates and parents to see - with me huffing and puffing my way to the finish line. The anticipated humiliation was enough to make my insides convulse.

That was how I was feeling in the middle of this night - like I was about to run a race, torture for someone who has always hated running.

I’ll watch something on TV. I know it’s the middle of the night but watching TV always makes me sleepy.

I’m one of those people who fall asleep twenty minutes before the end of a movie. I’ve watched loads of films and have no idea how they turn out.

Again, typical Soph!

But no, 4am rolls by and now I desperately need to sleep. I’m only going to catch two hours before I have to get up and home school my children.

STRESSED IN THE DAY

I never grew up thinking I was going to home school my kids. We had moved to Manchester two years earlier. I had struggled during that time with the school they were both attending. Jaedon started primary school the year we moved and Georgia was going to start in year three. Jaedon looked so small in his uniform. Both our children are August babies so they were the youngest in their year. There is a big difference between a little one who has just turned four-years old and a five-year old. Anyway, I felt Jaedy wasn’t ready.

Another reason I decided to home school was that I missed my children. I began to resent that strangers had the best hours of my children’s day while I got the leftovers. After I picked them up from school it was a scramble to get homework done, give them time to play, cook dinner, feed the family and then get them ready for bed. I wanted to be with our kids so Glyn and I took the plunge; I was determined to educate them in a loving, encouraging, one-on-one environment.

They were both in primary school so I thought how hard can it be? Very hard! I found it a huge challenge to source the material and an emotional drain then to relay it. Still do. Their confidence is low when it comes to trying new things so it takes all my energy just to get them to attempt the work.

On this fateful night I am in my second year of teaching and I feel I am failing, big time. The thought of tackling my day - with all the educating, encouraging, disciplining, mothering, coaching - on two hours sleep fills me with dread. The responsibility is huge. I am the only source of my children’s education. No wonder I am suffering sleep deprivation.

I needn’t have worried. That night I don’t get two hours sleep. I don’t get any. I watch 5am roll by and then wait for the alarm to go off at 6am.

This has never happened to me before.

My husband stirs having slept deeply all night and I am wide awake when he turns to me and says good morning.

“Babe, I haven’t slept.”

He’s not quite lucid and is still in that waking up haze when he looks at me.

“What do you mean you haven’t slept?”

“I mean I haven’t slept”

“Not at all?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. I just couldn’t fall asleep.”

We look at each other. There is nothing more to say.

WHAT’S HAPPENING?

Now not sleeping for one night is not a tragedy. I’ve done it many times before. I used to pull ‘all nighters’ all the time at university, staying up so I could finish an essay because I had something better to do the next day. When Glyn and I worked with young people we would put on a twelve hour party every New Year’s Eve. It would start at 9pm and finish on New Year’s Day at 9am. All night we had different games and activities to keep kids entertained. It was hard work - especially when we had to make the inevitable trip to Accident and Emergency in the wee hours of the morning - but we loved it.

This was different. I couldn’t help feeling a little alarmed by my sleepless night. We were puzzled but we agreed that the next night would be fine because I would be ready for a good sleep.

We went about our day as normal, believing that losing one night is manageable, except the next night it happened again. In a state of exhaustion I fell asleep around 5:30 am for thirty minutes.

What is happening to me?

I try to console myself.

The next night will be better.

It is. I get two hours sleep.

Sleepless nights begin to take their toll. I’m emotional but I’m trying to stay strong for my children. I start to feel overwhelmed by normal everyday activities. Anxiety grips me for no reason. My body is beginning to shake of its own accord. My tolerance levels are plummeting.

I am in bad shape.

I NEED SLEEP

After a couple of weeks of sleeplessness - getting two to three hours sleep every two to three days - I take myself to the doctors to get some sleeping pills. I explain what has been happening.

“Is there anything that you can think of that could be causing this?” she asks.

“Nothing.”

This is true. I can’t think of anything that has prompted this. I love my life. Is it perfect? No. Is it stressful? Yes - but no more than anyone else’s.

Two years earlier Glyn and I, along with some friends, had taken on a church in the centre of Manchester. We had embarked on the greatest adventure, to build the church of our dreams. We started with ninety people and now had about fifteen hundred members. We knew that the growth would be fast and it was “all hands on deck.” Now I was home schooling I was busier than ever but I was adamant that I had made the right choice. Bottom line, I couldn’t identify anything in particular that had caused a situation that was quickly becoming a nightmare.

My doctor kindly but firmly explained that they don’t hand out sleeping tablets to people struggling with insomnia because the cure would fast become a problem. They are highly addictive.

My heart sank.

“I just need...