by Brianna Popsickle

Created on: November 09, 2009   Last Updated: November 12, 2009

I can't sleep and please don't tell me it's my age. The fact is I've never been a good sleeper. I remember as a child sharing a bed with my older sister. Now she was a good sleeper. She should have been born a man. To this day she can nod off while watching TV, and she's out within five minutes of her head hitting the pillow. I hate her.

When we were kids she would always fall asleep first while I'd lay awake for hours trying to hold back the demon in me that wanted to pinch her nose closed, tickle her face, or steal her covers. Much to her annoyance the demon in me often won.

She knew it was in her best interest to try to make me happy if she wanted to sleep. She agreed to play the picture game. I'd draw pictures on her back in great detail and she'd guess what they were. I figured as long as she was concentrating, she was staying awake. It wasn't long until I was on to her. She guessed everything was a house or a flower and would be asleep before I knew it.

Once I got so annoyed, I tore the sheet from her. Equally annoyed with me, she pulled it right back. We heard it rip. We each pulled a little harder. We continued until it tore completely in two. I'll never forget walking downstairs, each holding half a sheet, saying innocently to our mother, Our sheet has a rip in it.

Well here I am thirty years later and I'm still not sleeping. I average about four to five hours a night. My husband's come to the conclusion that I don't need sleep because I get up each morning full of energy and in a good mood. So maybe I don't need it, but I want it.

Meanwhile friends say, Your health, Brianna. You can't go on like this, you'll get sick. I read articles linking lack of sleep with weight gain, not to mention beauty sleep.

The thoughts were enough to get me to the doctor. I knew it wouldn't be easy. For some reason my doctor doesn't want to medicate me, he seems to think I can handle anything. I've gone to him in the past and asked him for a little something to make me as happy as the woman in the Philadelphia Cream Cheese commercial, but no, he couldn't do that. Instead he whipped out a calendar and told me to record my moods. If I didn't see a change in a couple months I was to go back. Well, wasn't he the little miracle worker? My mood changed instantly! My depression turned to anger.

When I asked him for something to help me sleep, he whipped out another sheet. A list of things to help me relax.

Take a warm bath. - Maybe if I had a big soaker tub with little

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