Two weeks into the school year, I started to have trouble falling asleep. Actually, trouble would be an understatement. I remember that first night like it was yesterday. That night is my definition of a bad dream. I remember the feeling that coursed through my body when I looked at the clock and noticed it was 2:45am, four hours and fifteen minutes after I had gotten into bed. It felt like every nerve in my body was on fire. Why hadn't I fallen asleep yet? What was wrong with me? My mind was racing a mile a minute. The silent tears welled up in my eyes until one spilled over, slowly sliding down my cheek leaving a trail of salty wetness behind. I crept into my parents room to find both of them fast asleep. .
I slowly walked out of my parents room and back to mine where I paced back and forth, back and forth, trying to calm down. My tear ducts were on overdrive, churning out hundreds of tears a minute. I grabbed my pillow and a blanket and returned to my parents room, setting up camp on the floor at the end of their bed where I finally felt sleep take over my body and I slipped into a restless slumber. .
So began my nightly torture which was unfortunately only the beginning. Doctors were no help. I went to my pediatrician seeking professional advice. But he took it as a joke and gave me his unwanted opinion. He told me that my problem was boys. Excuse me? What?!.
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I stared at him in utter disbelief. My blood began to boil. Did he actually have the audacity to suggest that the reason I was up until 3:00, sometimes 4:00 in the morning was because of boys?! Yes, I had a problem but I could assure him that it was not boys. I stormed out of the doctor's office in an outrage. .
My sleeping problems continued in high school, although they were not as severe. I was able to fall asleep by 1:00 on a good night. 3:00 on the bad nights. Whatever it was, I certainly wasn't out growing it like my parents had hoped.