A Little MS with a Little MSW

Bluetooth sleep masks are the single greatest invention of the 21st century.

Who wouldn’t want to drift off to sleep to the sounds of a novice podcaster unfurling the mysteries and horrors of an often unsolved (and highly disturbing) true crime? I have, in fact, settled into slumber in this fashion many a night. Does this macabre material imbed itself in my unconscious? Am I more vigilant, more paranoid, more prepared, as a result of this habit?

Oh, and guess what! I don’t limit myself to domestic nightmare stories, only. I also cross the pond as I’m lulled into others’ hell on earth. Europe has some morbid shit going on, too, folks. (They also have beautiful, calming accents that add just the right amount of irony to their tales of murder and mayhem).

So, yes. I love my mask. I often throw it off at some point during the night because REM tryin’ to REM and one person’s crime is another person’s lack of deep sleep. I’ve also fallen asleep more than once listening to a thriller and awoken at the exact moment a major plot twist is revealed, ruining the book and the buildup of the pages in between.

But, alas.

I will continue to don my bluetooth sleep mask every night and I will continue to have mini panic attacks every evening when I fear that it has not been charged. You know how they say your friends live inside your social media accounts? Well, some of my worst nightmares live inside my little black mask. They are perhaps imbedded in my psyche at this point. I should probably be more concerned about this than I am.

My first mask was a gift, and it was probably one of the best gifts I’ve ever received. It offers distraction, when darkness falls, and our minds are most susceptible to wandering. The mask is like a one-up to my brain. When my brain wants to catastrophize the future and relive all of my worst moments, I press play on the true crime of those around me and remind myself that someone else always has it worse…