Snorer Keeping You Up?
Confessions of a Snore Partner
JOURNAL ENTRY #9:
I sleep with a snorer and I’ve Tried Just About Everything to Help Me Sleep…
NyQuil. Melatonin. The whir of the ceiling fan. The hum of the humidifier. Bottomless social media scrolling. Blankets and pillows over my head — I’ve even tried contorting my arm up over my ear.
When my husband’s snoring gets real obnoxious, I get pretty experimental with my methods to fall asleep over his ruckus. In fact, I’m typing this anecdote on my phone while I fight the sleeplessness at 12:30 am, because I’m wide awake listening to him saw wood...
There’s no singular analogy I could use to describe the sounds he’s making lately. The gravely-gritty-rumbling gurgles coming from his face are neither fit for man nor beast...and certainly not my husband.
On some breaths, he’s digging so deep for air, I can feel the vibrations from his lungs straight through the mattress to my side of the bed. Once in a while, a sort of gasp-scream escapes — hitting the loudest octaves of the complete ensemble.
If you think I’m exaggerating, just be thankful you’re not his snore partner.
There’s No Denying the Snoring Elephant in the Room
My husband at least can acknowledge that his snoring keeps me up. He knows I’m not sleeping well. Because when I don’t get good sleep, he doesn’t get good sleep.
“Is it my snoring that’s been keeping you up at night?” He asked, unprovoked earlier this week...
We equally torture one another with the inability to get a good night’s rest — him with his snoring, and me with my tossing and turning because of his snoring.
I’m not sure if it’s the dry winter air, lingering nasal congestion or his allergies kicking in, but his snoring has been particularly bad as of late.
Sleep Divorce...Here I Come!
Night after night I find myself lying here in the middle of the night, and sometimes even early hours of the morning, unable to achieve the one thing I'm desperate for...to simply fall asleep!
My anxious internal dialogue is in over-drive and keeping me up even more so — a battle between guilt for waking him up to ask him to roll over, and the grasping desperation to just finally fall asleep already. Wondering how long I can stand this go-round, before tapping out and resigning to the couch.
Maybe I’ll get tired enough that I’ll just overcome it, able to drown it out … Or maybe the melatonin will kick in.
In my inability to sleep, my mind starts to wander. What’s really going on up inside that nose of his? When is it time to really address what’s going on?
How do you know when snoring stops being ‘just snoring’, and actually becomes an issue that needs to be solved because his life depends on it … or maybe at least my sleep does?
In my inability to sleep, my mind starts to wander. What’s really going on up inside that nose of his? When is it time to really address what’s going on? The loud snores and deep gasp for air simply cannot be harmless… Every night his head hits the pillow, he’s in for hours of exacerbated wear and tear on his lungs, heart, throat, sinuses, bloodstream…
His entire circulatory system is taking a beating like a punching bag.
And tomorrow, we’ll see the tired in one another’s eyes. We’ll have the same conversation we had last week, and the week before that…
“Has my snoring been keeping you awake?” Yes.
Your snoring has gotten really bad again. “Well, I’ve been exhausted...”
“Why did you sleep on the couch last night?” Why do you think?
The conversation will continue, even though it always ends the same: Why don’t you schedule an appointment at ADVENT?
To me, the next step is obvious. But until he realizes that’s it’s just insanity to not do something about it when the answer is staring us in the face, we’ll continue this dance.
And we’ll continue to be tired. And I’ll continue to wonder, when does snoring stop being ‘just snoring’, and actually becomes an issue that needs to be solved because his life depends on it … or maybe at least my sleep does?