Sometimes things that are supposed to bring comfort to our lives become a real pain in the neck.
Take for example your personal bed pillow. Sounds trivial, but considering its job of ushering you into sweet slumber 365 times a year it becomes pretty important.
I’ve learned just how high a place mine holds in my life as I’ve awakened with neck pain for months now.
I’m a little slow sometimes and initially blamed my discomfort on the stresses of living under the same roof with three teenagers. I almost always harbor tension in my neck. But for the most part, my teen cherubs are good eggs and not nearly that constantly a pain in my neck.
Now, I’m pretty certain the aged pillow is to blame. Easy enough to remedy, right? Wrong.
If you’ve ever read The Paradox of Choice by psychologist Barry Schwartz, you already know the problems I encountered.
I left stores –pillowless–and with a much bigger pain pulsing behind my eyes. I guess the silver lining there was I forgot about my neck briefly.
Anyway, ultra-soft, soft, medium-soft, firm, or semi-firm? Plain feathers, down–goose or duck? Fiberfill, synthetic, or whatever in the heck poly cluster is? Then there is foam–of the breed that will memorize my exact head.
As if that weren’t enough, do I need hypoallergenic, “cooling” (has some sort of strange beads that will forever stave off hot flashes, thank heavens I’m not there yet) cervical contour, wedge-shaped to raise my esophagus higher than my stomach?
I have a good sporting chance of not entirely slipping into insanity over this because I at least know what size. King, please.
Dr. Schwartz contends in the previously-mentioned book that too many choices leave us paralyzed in indecision. That was me.
I simply could not determine which one would be suitable. Upon returning home I did the worst thing imaginable and researched the whole fluffy mess on the Internet. And I just thought I had problems while standing in the stores.
If and when I do find my body’s perfect match, I’ll record the combination and store it in the safe-deposit box with all my other important papers because advertising has forced me to know replacements should be purchased every 12-18 months.
What really ruffles my downy feathers is that I know in the 12-18 month replacement time the model I choose this go-round will be discontinued.
At the very least I hope to have a general idea for the future. Or maybe I could buy several (hundred) spares and rent a storage unit . . . decisions, decisions.
I won’t tell you which leading columnist confided he has been sleeping on his current pillows for DECADES. His name might rhyme with “him”. I remembered a column from years ago wherein he described his own pillow woes. Thought he might have some sage advice. “I dug my old ones out of the trash.” Thanks, “him”.
As of this writing my noggin is still not getting rest as it lies painfully atop a member of my sleep team that is no longer offering me proper support. It doesn’t even try. I think it knows that being a pain in my neck pales in comparison to finding its replacement. Maybe it’s right, and it pains me to say that.
© 2011 Natalie Whatley