Tag Archives: blogging

Insomnia: A Sob Story (with Gluten?)

Yawwwwwwn. If I’ve seen you lately, I’ve probably graced you with one of those. It’s not that I’m bored or being rude. It’s just that sleep . . . hasn’t been happening lately.

I’ve written before about such light, possibly celiac-related topics as bloating and hair loss. After several low-sleep months, I felt it was time to address this new one. I’ve tried writing this post many times already but kept falling asleep in the middle of a

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Just kidding. Honestly, if I could fall asleep so readily, I’d welcome it (and then complain about it). But, I can’t. So, with all of us alert, let’s talk insomnia.

In the past, I’ve occasionally gone up to a few days having trouble falling asleep. Lately, though, it’s been constant.

Insomnia, among other sleep disorders, is on the laundry list of conditions associated with celiac disease. Jane Anderson has written it up for About.com. That said, like bloating and hair loss, it’s also associated with a million other conditions and sometimes exists on its own. (The NIH can tell you all about it.)

So, where’d mine come from?

Because my insomnia started long after I went gluten-free, I have a feeling, for once, celiac’s not to blame. However, in the past, I did wonder if occasional insomnia meant I’d been glutened. (I’ve never “caught someone in the act” of glutening me, so it’s hard to be sure. Still, certain blech patterns appear.)

Thus, my first thought was: have I been eating something new and contaminated that I didn’t properly check? I don’t think so . . . though I did eat too much gluten-free junk this winter. A dietary spring cleaning is underway, and way needed.

Insomnia cookies

Not gluten-free. Probably for the best.
Photo © Robyn Lee | Flickr

My next thought was to blame a new medication. Insomnia’s not a known side effect, but I wouldn’t put it past my body to react in a unique, idiotic way. It’s slimly possible that the medication was contaminated; though I checked with the manufacturer, I received the standard “We can’t guarantee it” response, since they don’t test their final product. Having stopped taking it, I’m waiting for changes. So far, zilch.

Or maybe it’s stress? It is a possible trigger for roughly 75 percent of bad things. A colleague gave notice and I got promoted right around the time this started. Not bad, except that I feel even more buried than usual underneath a mound of work that never shrinks.

At night, as I try to make myself a willing vessel to oblivion, my mind jumps to multiple unchecked to-do list items. I’m not going to do any of them in the middle of the night, but I do shift position, refluff my pillow, and worry about it. (Mindfulness gurus would say to keep a notebook on my nightstand to jot these things down. Setting this up is something else I never manage to check off my list.)

Sprue Jr says labeling it “insomnia” is the problem: that by expecting it, I perpetuate it. But I disagree. It is . . . what it is. And insomnia by any other name would still suck.

While I’m not sure what is causing my insomnia, I can tell you one thing my insomnia has caused. Sleeplessness, you see, leads to bloglessness. For some time now, I’ve been down to one post a week. And it’s not for lack of ideas or time, I swear. It’s lack of sleep.

insomnia digital clock

Watching the clock is another insomnia no-no. Seriously. Don’t do it.
Photo © Fairy Heart | Flickr

Sleeplessness spawns laziness in more ways than one. It saps your energy, motivation, and attention. Sleep is incredibly (though still largely inexplicably) valuable to humankind’s ability to think, learn, and generally function.

Staying awake too late the night before encourages endless snoozing sessions (a horrible habit, and not actually restful at all, but tell that to my half-conscious brain) and skipped morning workouts. Bummer, because “regular exercise” is another top tip for insomnia prevention.

After feeling tired all day, it’s inescapably appealing to go to bed as early as possible. Plus, standard anti-insomnia advice preaches not to stare at backlit screens at night, so I’ve been trying to power down earlier, even if it means no post the next day—and even if I’m likely enough to simply lie in bed, unable to nod off, for hours, wishing I’d just stayed up to write.

Sluggishness and sleeplessness: two miserable conditions that reinforce one another nightly.

I’ve tried melatonin, chamomile tea, and valerian root, which I must tell you smells like death. None worked.

Still, I’m hopeful this’ll be the last time I complain to you about sleep. It’s spring: time for regeneration, spending time outdoors, being active, and maybe less stress at work. Somehow, I feel this must get better.

But for the time being, at least, my posts will continue to come about once a week, possibly sporadically, and I hope you’ll keep checking in despite that (subscribe, even—make my day!). At heart, this blog is about health; and right now, for me, that means getting back to zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz . . .

Do you struggle with insomnia, or have you ever? Does it seem to be linked to gluten? What works or doesn’t work for you? 

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When is your health like a plugin? – On diagnosis, technical difficulties, and Band-Aids

Is there anything more annoying than technical difficulties? Technology is meant to quietly smooth the course of our daily existence; it’s a fact of life that we take for granted—even ignore entirely—until it starts to go wrong.

Well, maybe one thing: health problems. A healthy body is similar to working technology: it’s a neutral backdrop to our activities, a nonintrusive vessel for our thoughts and cares and aspirations. No one rejoices in their eyesight till they start to lose it. No one revels in their ability to sleep until insomnia strikes. No one praises their guts for breaking down food until the guts themselves break down. I certainly never realized how healthy I was until, one day, I wasn’t.

Once difficulties begin—with our technology or our health—we realize how essential its function was to our former happiness. And so begins the search for solutions. Step one? Diagnosis.

laptop keyboard and stethoscope

What seems to be the problem?
Photo © jfcherry | Flickr

The first definition of diagnosis, according to good ole Merriam & Webster, is “the art or act of identifying a disease from its signs and symptoms” (and for a good read on the “art” of diagnosis, I highly recommend Every Patient Tells a Story, by Lisa Sanders). But the third definition, “investigation or analysis of the cause or nature of a condition, situation, or problem,” is applicable to technology. That’s why you’ll hear IT people toss around the terrifying phrase “running diagnostics.”

Over the Christmas break, I moved my little baby gluten blog from WordPress.com to a self-hosted site, with some pro bono help from my computer-programming big brother. Although I like the freedom that gives me to, oh, throw affiliate links at you (not that I have, yet), there’ve been growing pains: I’ve had to diagnose and fix several technical issues since the transition.

With a self-hosted blog, you’re the one responsible when problems strike. You’re the patient and the primary care physician. Unfortunately, in my case, you’re a rather bumbling one who looks everything up on Google. The most you can hope for is to pinpoint the general source of the problem and refer yourself to the right specialists.

My latest “symptom,” as some of you are aware, arose this week. Several of my old posts—from June, September, and October 2013—were resent to my subscribers. Everyone who said anything about it was very nice—thank you!—but I felt bad about the spam.

Putting on my doctor hat (is that a thing?), I determined the problem was with Jetpack, the plugin that brought all my old subscribers to my new site without their having to resubscribe, which has been overall handy. A “Happiness Engineer” from their support team let me know they were looking into the problem. In the meantime, I could stop the emails by deactivating the plugin.

band-aid on finger, laptop trackpad

I’m also familiar with real Band-aids on my real fingers. I should not be allowed near sharp kitchen implements.
Photo © Tony Kwintera | Flickr

This type of solution—“We don’t know what’s wrong, but here’s a Band-Aid to get you by”—is depressingly familiar to me from my years with a diagnosis of IBS and, unfortunately, continues to be familiar. “Issues that haven’t gone away after nearly a year gluten-free could be connected with celiac disease; they don’t seem to be connected with anything else; and it might help if I try . . .,” etc.

I obediently applied my blog Band-Aid and emailed subscribers that the problem was fixed. Almost immediately, of course, the “deactivated” plugin emailed out yet another post (the robots really are coming for us). That’s familiar, too. Band-Aid remedies don’t work when there’s a deeper, undiagnosed problem.

Eventually, I received another email from Jetpack: “We’ve now fixed the issue. . . . Sorry again for the inconvenience.” Why it’s fixed, or what went wrong in the first place, I can’t say. My blog doctor clearly subscribes to Sigmund Freud’s belief that “The doctor should be opaque to his patients and, like a mirror, should show them nothing but what is shown to him.”

(Note: the word diagnosis derives from diagnoskein, meaning “to know thoroughly.” Generally it’s not just the doctor who gets to know. But Freud’s been wrong before.)

Lego doctor with laptop

The blog doctor will see you now (but you won’t see him).
Photo © Jay Reed | Flickr

Opacity aside, a diagnosis was apparently made, because the fix is in. Subscribers should—fingers crossed—be able to expect no more unwanted emails from my blog (which is why you should subscribe now, if you haven’t yet!).

Granted, if we sustain the health analogy, this is a bit like saying, “The doctors say I won’t keep projectile vomiting at random times without any warning, so you should be able to sit with me at lunch,” but once we’re discussing vomit I’d say it’s time to drop the metaphor, wouldn’t you?

Tell me—which do you find more frustrating: diagnosing health problems, or diagnosing technical problems? Do you find people take their good health for granted? And what’s all this about doctors being mirrors?

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