I never had trouble sleeping before my marriage fell apart. If there was one thing I was good at, it was sleeping. I could do it anywhere, in any and all conditions. I could do it all night. I could do it all morning and all afternoon, for that matter.

I never lay in bed awake, thinking, "Ok, if I fall asleep now I'll still get five hours ... if I fall asleep now I'll still get four hours." I never woke up at three a.m. exhausted, but unable to do anything but flop around on the mattress and make mental to-do lists, over and over.

Nightmares, sure — have had those forever. But your basic, run of the mill insomnia — this is relatively new. And it's killing me.

It's been about two years since a sleep-when-I-go-to-bed, sleep-through-the-night night hasn't been something noteworthy. Now I'm at the point where when I manage to sleep a whole six hours in a row, it makes my Facebook status.

It's a whole subculture, this insomnia thing. There's a weird "You can't sleep either?" bond I have with a couple of friends. Nick and I lament over IM and trade homeopathic remedies. My problem with homeopathic answers is that they work miraculously for about a month, and then stop. The wonder and beauty that was Calms Forte has, sadly, come to an end.

Jake was well on his way to a sleeping pill addiction when we split up, which scared the pants off me. There's a history of addiction in my family as well, so I'm not about to start on any kind of "real" medication. I figure, well, I'm ok with being alone again. I'm ok dating again. I'm close to being ok being in a relationship again. So I'm just going to assume that, someday, I will sleep again.