Warning: This post has absolutely nothing to do with books or writing, and unless you’ve suffered from insomnia you may not fully appreciate what I’m about to say.
Lately, I’ve been able to sleep. Deeply. All night. I’ve even been napping. Because I can. And after those luxurious naps, I still manage to get a decent night’s sleep. Yeah, me! A chronic insomniac. This is right up there with life’s finest pleasures!
The reason? I’ve been going to see a naturopath / energy healer / wizzard-man. He assured me he could help me sleep better. After an assessment involving grasping my skull in both hands (presumably to sense the energy), he told me no wonder I wasn’t sleeping. My short-term memory wasn’t emptying properly and dumping stuff into the long-term place, where the emotions evoked would be less acute.
Then he did some meridian stuff. And some cranio-sacral stuff. And some acupressure stuff. Don’t ask. I have no idea how this all works, and I don’t care.
It took several sessions, but work, it did. My brain has stopped racing and going down those nasty, smelly rat-holes. I’ve never slept so well in my life. It feels as though I’m catching up on decades of insomnia.
My husband calls it the power of suggestion. I don’t care what it is, I’ll take it.
