I’ve been thinking, in recent days, that it’s possible I might have to relinquish my well-earned, and entirely appropriate, moniker of “TechnoMonk.” As you may recall (or likely not), the name was given to me by “C” in recognition of my propensity for always acquiring the latest and greatest technology toys – and my concomitant inclination toward Spartan furnishings in the rest of my life. Probably the most notable of my minimalist tendencies has been the practice of sleeping on a futon. And not only have I slept on one for a very long time, it’s been placed on the floor in my various bedrooms – giving those spaces a perpetually-bare, “monkish” appearance.
Well, all that is about to change. I bought a new mattress/box-spring set that is scheduled to be delivered next weekend. In terms of the events of my life (and if you don’t count all the job changes and moves in recent times), this act is practically revolutionary.
I say this because this is something that I’ve put off doing for years and years. Well, truth be told: decades. I am admitting here to unhealthy, counter-productive behavior, and perhaps even a totally neurotic tendency, of delaying a purchase that I’ve long suspected would be good for me.
So, what’s the back story here?
Well, I was divorced in 1978. Yes, very long ago. A much different time. Jimmy Carter was president, for crying out loud. When we were married, “M” and I had a wonderful queen-sized bed, made of teak. We used a foam mattress, which gave us a very firm, supportive sleeping surface. And it was a beautiful piece of furniture.
I left that teak bed behind when I left the marriage. I subsequently moved into an apartment with practically no furnishings. I spent the first couple weeks sleeping in a sleeping bag on the floor – before finally purchasing a foam mattress (that I also kept on the floor). Even though I had no immediate plans to be in a relationship again, I thought, even back then, that purchasing a “real bed” could wait...that I could buy another one, eventually, with another partner.
In my (much to my surprise) perpetually-single state, though, the foam mattress lasted for years. Finally, a year after I moved to Indiana, in 1991, I replaced the foam with a new futon. Again, I placed this bed on the floor. Despite occasional recommendations, over the years, from chiropractors and other health-care practitioners, that I find a more suitable sleeping surface, I persisted. I was always thinking that “the one” was right around the corner...and no sooner would I buy a bed that it would be the wrong one for “us.”
Well, here I am over 31 years later. (Holy crap, how did this happen?) I’ve been sleeping on the floor for three-plus decades. Despite, at one point, being close to having all that change. In early 1998, I suggested to “C” that I was thinking about buying a new bed (to make her visits to my place more accommodating). The huge negative reaction to that idea on her part was totally shocking...and I should have known right there that this was not a relationship with long-term prospects. Ah, all the missed clues!
Yes, and even our last night together involved a spat that involved rejection of both me as well as the futon we were on. The truly bizarre admission that I have to make here in this essay, is that after that last night together, I kept the futon on the floor in the bedroom, but I spent approximately the next five years sleeping on the sofa: so much did I hate the site, the futon, of our final staking-out-of-positions...that led to the end of us as a couple. I have never admitted this to anyone. Well, until y’all, right now.
So, here I am, almost ten years past that point...finally making steps to take care of myself: to no longer punish myself by sleeping on an inappropriate surface, or banishing myself to the sofa to avoid negative memories of “the end.”
I have made great strides in improving my chronic pain issues in the last year. There is still progress to made, though. And I suspect that sleeping on a real bed will make a difference.
Though this may all put my “TechnoMonk” reputation at stake, I’m willing. And eager. To be healthier.
But still “the monk.”