This morning, I woke up feeling bleh.
If you're unfamiliar, that's the sensation of complete disassociation and general indifference to your surroundings, just wanting to do the bare minimum to get by.
"Do you ever sleep?" my brother asked as he rolled over, finding me wide-eyed and tapping away at the keys on my keyboard.
Of course, I did. Every night, with my eyes closed but without actual rest, I toss and turn, then jolt out of bed, as I've come to realize that sleep is not for me.
"You need to do better before you start having insomnia."
Chuckles. Grins. Smiles. Lol. *inserts whatever synonym I can think of.*
Insomnia. We’ve come a long way together.
I stayed with a family friend as a young teenager, shouldering the responsibility of caring for a family of eight. Children aged between 4 and 10, two parents: a very demanding grandpa with a stroke of amnesia, and a visiting auntie. I believe that was my first introduction to insomnia. We shook hands as I struggled to remember if I had properly washed Grace’s lunch box or solved Victor’s quantitative assignment, all while hoping grandpa or Auntie Nneka would not need a hot cup of Lipton by 2 a.m.
I forgot to mention that sleeping hours were after everyone else had slept, which was almost impossible because Bro. Tim, my dad’s friend, was always working on the living room couch, which also doubled as my sleeping corner.
During my first semester as a proud Nigerian student, my eyes found no rest. Tests, quizzes, noisy church vigils, loud sex from the neighbor's room, a roommate who masturbated with a shrill sound, and then me, who just couldn't sleep. Little wonder when 'Somia and I tightened the bond of our relationship.
It’s 4 a.m. I am awake. Over 10 million people are like me. Tired. Up. About. Because we live in a city that never sleeps—Lagos. You see, when I remember the traffic on the Third Mainland Bridge as I rush to report to the Ikoyi office today or the Lagos-Ibadan Expressway traffic on my way home to Berger from Yaba, I cannot afford the luxury of sleep.
When I hear people like Aproko Doctor talk about the heightened benefits of getting 8 hours of sleep daily, I’m much more certain that social media is a colossal colony of liars because even he doesn’t get that amount of rest. My friendship with ‘Somia is toxic. I hate that she always wins. I hate that she is always right. I hate how she makes me feel afterward, but I don’t know what my life will be without her. Psychology says that the root of all suffering is attachment, and I dare say my best friend has me attached on a chokehold.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I remember the last time I slept so well. It was peaceful, refreshing, and contradictory to everything my Christian values and principles stood for. It was bliss. Yes, I dealt with penance and purgatory, but in that moment, I won the fight with my best friend, Insomnia.
I want to go to sleep now. Let’s hope I record another win.