The Parable of the Chinese Farmer has been on my mind recently. Though in my case the Parable of the Sleepless Writer would be more appropriate.
A couple of years ago I bought an alarm clock. I wanted to sleep without my phone by my bedside, in an effort to reduce my screen time.
My browser is usually disabled, but the temptation remains. I always check my phone on waking. I feel better if I abstain for the first 30 minutes of my day. It’s another thing to look forward to.
Buying the alarm clock showed that I was taking control of my life. I was bucking the societal trend toward crippling distraction and fragmenting attention!
I bought a cheap alarm clock from a well-known Swedish furniture conglomerate and placed it on the nightstand. My phone was exiled to charge next door.
The verdict: Good decision.
Tick tick tick
Shortly after I turned out the bedside light, I had a sinking realisation. The chugging mechanics of the alarm clock were surprisingly loud and annoying.
I relocated the clock to the other side of the room and closed my eyes again.
Never a particularly easygoing sleeper, I found that I still couldn’t ignore the nagging sound. It was intrusive, like the dripping of a leaky tap.
I gave up, and slung the alarm clock into a drawer in the spare room. The phone returned to its usual spot.
So the verdict on the alarm clock purchase became clear: bad decision.
At least it was a cheap mistake.
Masking the ringing
One night in the Spring of 2021, I noticed a persistent ringing in my ears. The unpleasantness continued for several days and I resigned myself to the fact that I was suffering from tinnitus.
Getting to sleep had been a challenge before. Now I faced a nightly battle with my anxiety, as I lay in the dark trying not to concentrate on the unwelcome drone registering in my brain.
After a few restless weeks I took an annual subscription to a white noise app.
I tinkered with the blend of sounds and levels until I found the perfect mix to mask the tinnitus.
It was a powerful concoction: a base of Cicadas and Heavy Backyard Rain, topped by complex notes of Binaural Delta Waves and Spaceship Hum, and a suggestion of random Thunder to create an organic feel.
I slept better and dreamed weirder.
Dropping the crutch
After a year of use, the app started to feel like an expensive crutch. My dad has tinnitus and he sleeps perfectly well without a masking noise.
But I wasn’t ready to go cold turkey. I still needed something to focus on – a distracting sound to tune into, just long enough to help me to relax and drop off.
So, I exhumed the alarm clock from the drawer and left it on a shelf in the bedroom.
These days, when I turn out the lights, I scan for a noise that used to annoy me and that now brings me comfort. A set of chattering gears not a million miles away from the buzzing tymbals of a cicada.
Who knows, maybe one day I’ll take the same reassurance from the sound of my tinnitus.
As for purchasing the alarm clock, the final verdict is in: good decision.
For now.
