O sleep! O gentle sleep!

I've always needed copious amounts of sleep. Mom says that when I was little she would tell my younger brother and I it was time for our naps and I would practically run to my room! As an adult, my best days come after a solid 8 hours of sleep. Give me less than six and I feel physically ill.

Autumn 2002. At one in the afternoon, my body would tell me it was time to go to sleep. I would fight my way through the rest of the school day, probably being a bit hyper in my teaching to overcompensate, and go to bed as soon as I arrived home from work. At the latest I would say goodnight to S and go to sleep at 5pm. The alarm and our black Labrador would wake me 13 hours later; yet, at 1 in the afternoon, I was again ready to go to sleep. This period of my life lasted for about three months until my dear friend, C, said something to me about thyroid problems.

Until C mentioned it, I didn't know I even had a thyroid let alone what one did. I won't bore you with the details, but it turns out that I had an under-active thyroid and it was the cause of my sleepiness. I also complained to the doctor about feeling sad. She said that depression and thyroid problems often go hand in hand, but she referred me to a counselor anyway. Since the doctor recommended it, my ex seemed more supportive of the concept (perhaps God had made me with a thyroid problem).

Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed
The dear repose for limbs with travel tired;
But then begins a journey in my head
To work my mind, when body’s work’s expir’d:
For then my thoughts—from far where I abide—
Intend a zealous pilgrimage to thee,
And keep my drooping eyelids open wide,
Looking on darkness which the blind do see:
Save that my soul’s imaginary sight
Presents thy shadow to my sightless view,
Which, like a jewel hung in ghastly night,
Makes black night beauteous and her old face new.
Lo! thus, by day my limbs, by night my mind,
For thee, and for myself no quiet find.

- William Shakespeare's Sonnet 27