Since I became peri-menopausal I have had sleep related problems that can only be described as interrupted slumber.
On occasions I would define it as insomnia. After all the idea that insomnia is solely not being able to sleep is a myth.
Insomnia is the inability to fall asleep or stay asleep, or waking too early.
But before the world went crazy I used to work. Much of my day was spent outside in the fresh air and this included physical labour too. I loved it. The country air and the animal smells filled my soul and the physicality kept me fit. Not to mention I like wearing my wellies. Most nights even if I had a hormonal temperature change I would sleep OK. Long enough.
But, if I awoke, I’d throw the covers off to cool down. At this point I may lay still so as not to disturb my man. Then, my mind would begin to wander and wonder.
Once cool I attempt to sleep. But sleep usually evades me. The fucker. I can chase it for a bit quite happily following that image that flits before my eyes but can never quite catch it. The white rabbit gets away. It’s at this point that my right hand slowly slides from my clavicle, where it often rests, down the side of my body and comes to a halt on top of my mound.
I steal a look across at my man and if I hear steady breathing and if he is quite peacefully sleeping I move my hand lower searching for the line that cuts open my cunt.
Now my dirty mind comes into it’s own. I begin to conjure up all kinds of “blue” thoughts and play that come my way. A slut on her knees begging to suck my man’s cock as he unzips and pushes his hips forward. His cock lays waiting as her eyes look up and her pout widens to take him in.
With such torrid images I run my finger tip along my slit and pulse above my bud. It never takes long. As I lay still and silently climax, in my mind, he shoots his load to the back of the whores throat.
Then as my heart beats faster I turn on to my side, push up beside my man and feel the warmth of his skin against my cooled breasts. Now I sleep.
Although I have to admit that on occasions if my man is stirring I roll over and get him involved too.
Since the lock down I find I am awake more and more in the middle of the night. I try not to worry and usually think about my writing or blog and come up with story ideas.
I was talking to Mona today and we agreed that in regards to anxiety and sleep it is a myth that such mental health problems only cause a lack of sleep. We have both found that in times of stress, such as now with the lock down, we may alternate between periodic sleep and intense deep sleep. When mentally low I can on occasions go to bed and almost flick a switch to take me to that other world where I meet people from the past, loved ones who have died and those that I don’t even know but often appear in my dreams.
Then it seems like I am living another life, in a parallel consciousness…