True confession: I have a slight case of bigamy going.
Relax. I’ve never actually met my other “husband” in person. Though I have been married to the same man since 1979, I have logged quite a few hours over the years—usually between midnight and 5 a.m.—with my other “husband”, Peter Francis Geraci.
Mr. Geraci is a Midwestern bankruptcy lawyer who runs TV commercials in the long hours between midnight and dawn. Let’s be honest. Our one-way relationship (he talks and I listen) would never work in real life.
The people who buy cheap middle-of-the-night air time in order to shill Mr. Geraci’s law firm know that there are three groups of people awake at 3:30 a.m.: sleepless new moms and dads, midlife women, and his target audience, those being harried by creditors. Worry comes like a wildcat in the middle of the night, and Peter Francis Geraci, calm and wise, is there calmly offering to put the wildcat out of your misery.
I was first introduced to Mr. Geraci when I was a new mom, and visited with him over the years when anxiety over this or that shook me awake in the wee hours. At midlife, I am meeting up with Mr. Geraci once again. He hasn’t aged a bit, and he always says the same calming words every time I see him: “Do you feel trapped by credit cards? Twenty-five thousand on cards now means your minimum is a thousand dollars a month.”
Good to know, Mr. Geraci. But really, I just want a good night’s sleep.
One of the most common physical complaints of women at midlife is poor sleep quality. A recent survey by the National Sleep Foundation found that over half of all postmenopausal women report sleep woes. Some of us combat these woes by adding prescription hormones, hoping to balance our plummeting estrogen levels and convince our unsettled bodies to get some rest. Others battle middle-of-the-night wakefulness with Tylenol PM or prescription sleeping pills. (I’ll confess to resorting to this measure when I travel, but find the whole process unsatisfying because chemical anesthesia is not the same thing as natural, restorative sleep.) Most of us gut it out, which leads me to believe that Peter Francis Geraci probably has a whole harem of middle-aged virtual wives.
I’ll confess I’m not like my saintly friend most nights. All I can think about is finding a way to asleep ASAP so I will not turn into a zombie at 2 o’clock the next afternoon. I creep out of bed where Bill is sleeping like a baby, and resign myself to watching the news (and catching up with my favorite bankruptcy lawyer) until I fall asleep for a couple of more hours, usually near dawn. A flickering T.V. in a darkened living room has too often been my drug of choice. Though my sleep-interrupted nights may well be a product of aging and fading hormones, I mark my restlessness as my body’s wordless plea for restoration and for nurture. Mr. Geraci, you seem like a nice guy, but you’re no match for a good night’s sleep.
If you awaken in the middle of the night, what do you do until you fall back asleep?