Plug me in

My husband and I went away last weekend to stay with friends at Tin Can Bay. Sleeping away from home can cause some distress, not always knowing what sleeping options will be available for those of us challenged by bed sharing.

The option last weekend was two single beds in a room together. As I may have said, I would actually like to be able to share a bed with my husband and often wonder if it's possible. Could our self imposed nocturnal segregation become an abberation of our misguided, early forties? Well..... it seems not.

The first night was ear plugs in immediately! My husband can fall asleep quickly and - depending on his sleeping position and how tired he is - can begin snoring pretty quickly. I don't hold this against him as I know he would prefer not to snore - it's not something he chooses to do.

Truth be told, in the last few years I have begun to snore a little too. And it mortifies me.

Since my 'light sleeping' began I have searched far and wide to source the best ear plugs this troubled sleeper can get her hands on. Ear plug nirvana was found at  snorestore. An online aladin's cave of ear plugs, specifically targetted at people who cannot sleep because of a snoring partner.

I could never had imagined how many ear plugs were available for us of the delicate sleeping constitution. My favourite feature of the website is that many earplugs are listed with the number of decibels they block out. The store also offers ear plugs specifically designed for women, who do tend to be the gender most affected by a snoring partner.

However, I wonder if the Snorestore will ever develop ear plugs for the partners of the following folk.

Jenny Chapman has the honour of being the loudest British female snorer and has been recorded snoring at 111.6 decibels. And another brit - a man called Alan Myatt - has been recorded snoring at 112.8 decibels. To give you a point of comparison any sound over 85 decibels can be considered hazardous to your hearing if you are being exposed to that noise for long periods of time.

I would be very interested to know if Jenny or Alan have partners - and if so, how do they cope?

But back to me. We are off to Melbourne for a long weekend in a few weeks and are sharing a bed! So, I have decided to purchase the Dreamgirl earlplugs.30 decibels of promised noise protection along with a slim fit for my delicate feminine ear canals.

The snorestore gives me more comfort in knowing I'm not alone with my affliction. 

So to all those comrades who roll their foam ear plugs then wait for the comforting silence as the foam unfurls with reassuring pops and crackles - I salute you.

I'm ok, you're ok

In my last post I talked about the people who give me sad and pitiful looks when they hear I don't share a bed, or a bedroom (quelle horreur) with my husband.

I don't think any of my close friends feel that way, but one never knows the truest, innermost feelings of another.

I am bemused that many of these looks are accompanied by a little tilt of the head. I guess the physical gesture assists them in communicating the feelings they have for me. The Centre for Nonverbal Studies says that a head tilt may be used to show friendliness. Maybe these people think the relationship with my husband is so bad that I need more friends?

Another suggestion from the centre is that head tilting is one of several self-protective gestures. So maybe, the thought that their partner might want to sleep apart from them makes them feel under threat and they tilt their head as a pre-emptive pose that will enable them to spring into action in case this might be the reality they are hiding from?

I have actually 'drilled down' to find out the motivation behind the look, but must report that I haven't had any answers that match the above two explanations for this non-verbal behaviour. No-one has invited me back to their place to spend the night in their bed with them and no-one has fled in terror that I might convince their partner to join the cause. And I guess that's the thing about non-verbal cues - often the words that accompany the non-verbals are at odds with each other.

When I get the 'pity tilt' I do get a intrigued about where the conversation is going to lead. Often the 'tilter' tries to encourage me to admit that there must be just a little something wrong with my marriage that I have to take the drastic step of sleeping in a separate room. Maybe it's not something wrong with my marriage, it's a fault in my husband's and mine relationship that we have not admitted to ourselves or to each other, and this is what's driving us apart night after night.

"Don't you miss the cuddles all night?", "How can you not want to snuggle next to your husband, and fall asleep and wake up next to him in the morning?". Well, 'yes' and 'I do'.

Unfortunately, we just can't manage the cuddling and the snuggling, and still get enough hours of sleep every night to then function as normal people. It's really as simple as that. "Don't you miss the intimacy of lying with another person every night and sharing that time together?" (from a tilter). Well no, if it means that I am lying there delirious with sleep deprivation as they snore or roll around the bed and pull covers off me.

Some people can touch their nose with their tongue, some people have a physiology that enables them to become olympic athletes and some people get tingly at the thought of tucking into a juicy quantum physics problem. Point being - humans are all different. And one of my points of difference is that I am a light sleeper, I need sleep to function and I like having my own space to sleep in. I tried to learn to sleep with my husband and had to raise the white flag of surrender early in the relationship.

Regardless of our failure as co-sleepers, I can report quite confidently that the marriage is ok. We have our disagreements, but neither of us has consulted a solicitor yet (as far as I know) and we have some long term plans mapped out for the next ten years.

For me our sleeping arrangement is simply practical. Our marriage has romance, has love, has emotional and physical intimacy - it just doesn't have any spooning in bed.

I'm ok with that, and I hope the tilters are ok too.

In good company

I try to be very honest about sleeping separately from my husband. I don't go out of my way to advertise it, but also don't pretend that it isn't a reality in my life. While there are many people who do agree that sleeping apart from their partner is a great idea, there are many who look at me with sad eyes, and just a tinge of pity. More about those looks in another post.

So when I hear of another person championing the cause of sleeping apart, I must admit that I do feel supported and buoyed. Such were my feelings at reading this article by Bob Ellis. Bob Ellis is an Australian writer, journalist, film-maker and political commentator, labor party stallwart and generally grumpy looking man. He has always struck me as a gruff old dude - the type who would give a person three minutes to justify why he should speak to them, and be harsh in his judgement of worthiness. This picture from one of his book covers justifies my judgements - at least to me it does.

Well, it turns out that Bob is a separate sleeper too! He recently wrote a great article published on the ABC's The Drum, Opinion.Titled To sleep, perchance to dream, the article talks about Ellis and his wife's decision to sleep apart.

The focus of his article is about the affects a lack of sleep can have on people. The premise of the article resonated with me as I too am particulary bad at decision making without sleep. Turns out, I am in good company (politically, anyway) when it comes to questionable judgement when sleep deprived.

The other aspect that made me feel good about reading the article was that it was a male championing the cause. Most writing on the topic is done by females, often blaming their lack of sleep on a snoring husband. Bob's article dealt with the fundamental issue being faced by people who cannot share a bed - the genuine health issues that can be caused by broken and minimal sleep.

Sue and I have done some research into the health affects of lack of sleep and there is much written about a myriad of issues caused by too little sleep. The weekend paper again referred to the link of childhood obesity to lack of sleep, and the list of other effects is substantial.

So here's to you Bob Ellis - thank you for your honesty and your voice.

The visitor effect - Part 3 (cats ahoy)

This will be the final post about the visitor effect - the visitors have now gone. But an interesting aspect of sleeping next door needs to be told.

Even though I don't share my bed with another human, I do share it with two cats. They are called Maddie and Lyla. They are sister, tiger tabbies, who often like to share a sleeping space. More often than not the girls sleep with me - not every night, and not always both of them. The cooler months often have Maddie requesting refuge under the doona in the wee hours of the morning, but Lyla always keeps herself above the covers.

I like that my cats like to sleep with me. I think they chose me more often than my husband because I am a calmer sleeper. We all pick our spots and tend to stay there for the night. The arrangement works well for us all.

However, Lyla was none too pleased when I went next door. As a brief background, Lyla does spend some time next door, but usually during the day, or if we are next door for dinner, she will come for a visit. Her antics when we are over there are quite entertaining - for both us and our neighbours - and fortunately the neighbours don't mind her coming in to the house.

After turning off the lights on the second night I was next door, Lyla came to the front door of the house and began to demand entry. Being the sucker that I am, she only had to carry on for 10 mins before I let her in. Upon entry to the bedroom she jumped up on the bed, padded around, and promptly fell asleep. And there she stayed until the morning.

So for four nights of the six when I was extreme sleeping, Lyla did some extreme sleeping next door too.

Fighting for space on the bed.

The visitor effect - Part 2 (or extreme separate sleeping)

I have told many people about my house-hopping bed solution for the last week. I must admit that I enjoy the range of reactions that any story about sleeping separately to my husband evokes. The latest configuration of sleeping arrangements has, I believe, been viewed as a bit extreme.


Of all the times I have explained the decision, there were three memorable reactions of and extended silence, coupled with just the slightest cocking of the head to the side. Who knows whether the three people's thoughts were a quizzical reaction, or plain boredom listening to me go on about my need to have a bed to myself.


I too, have pondered whether the arrangement was a bit extreme and should I have just 'sucked it up' and shared a bed. Obviously, my ponderings led me back to the conclusion that the bed next door was the better decision - extreme as it may have been. I always come back to my (and my husband's) need to get a solid night's sleep. The world is a better place for it - I promise. And if this means heading to the next door neighbour's for a week, then so be it.

When it comes to meeting basic needs, humans do become extreme. I don't need to bore you with all sorts of obvious examples, but just think of all the strange places that people do sleep. Personally, I can't understand how people sleep on public transport. The fear of missing my stop is so overwhelming that I will always stay wide awake, looking in wonder at sleeping commuters, wondering if they have just passed their house and are going to wake up at a bus terminal many kilometres away from where they live. Sleeping in a public place also scares me in case I wake up with my cheek in a puddle of drool, with all around me whispering to each other because I have been snoring so loudly.

There is a blog that is dedicated to asians sleeping in libraries (http://asianssleepinginthelibrary.tumblr.com/). Again.... an extreme sleeping choice, and one that possibly makes my choice look quite pedestrian.

To cater for the visitor effect in the future we do plan to build a new room on our house. The plans have not yet materialised into a room - but at least we have a plan. Until then, I remain grateful to my neighbours who generously offered me the bed and were so kind to me. My extreme sleeping is over for now.



End note: I must note how very, very lucky I am to have such fantastic neighbours. This would not be something many people would have access to, faced with the same situation in which I found myself. Brian and Lesley are outstanding people. An added bonus to sleeping next door was the comfort level of the neighbour's spare room bed. Outstanding! The bed is an old brass bed with a super comfy mattress, flanelette sheets (for winter of course) and a puffy, feather doona.

A fine alternative to my own bed.

The visitor effect - Part 1

I am returning to my own bed tonight after a week of sleeping at the neighbours. My husband's mother and aunty have been visiting from overseas and having to accommodate two extra guests meant there were no free rooms at our Inn. Solution.... use the spare bed at the neighbours. Fortunately I have wonderful neighbours who offered me their spare room.

Must admit though that I am seriously looking forward to my own bed. There are many aspects of the last week I would like to share and plan to do so. But tonight, my electric blanket and 1000 thread count, egyptian cotton sheets await me.

Night, night.

Space for one

As the nights become cooler I am loving slipping into my bed warmed to toasty proportions by my electric blanket. While in the room next door, my lovely husband sleeps in his somewhat colder bed. Such are the luxuries of sleeping in separate rooms.

Welcome to our blog - dedicated to the celebration of sleeping separately.

We are two women who passionately believe that sleeping separately from your partner - and in our cases, our husbands - does not define a successful relationship.

We hope to share our thoughts, advice and stories about our experiences of sleeping in separate rooms. We welcome any and all feedback and comments.

Jenny