- Good bed
- Bad bed
These terms are subjective of course – good does not mean expensive or bad cheap. A good bed is one that’s comfortable for me and a bad one isn’t.
Therefore, I think I have solved my sleeping problems thusly – wherever I am, if I like the bed I can sleep in it, and if I don’t like the bed I can always sleep on the floor and know it will be fine. Additionally, I can now potentially enjoy camping better and try sleeping on the van floor so I can be fully stretched out. The only problem I can foresee is whether someone would be really insulted if I slept on the floor instead of the bed they offered me? I suppose I could just put it down to eccentricity?In the past I’ve beed crap at getting a good sleep on hard surfaces, and jealous of those who can sleep anywhere. This is what my research has turned up.
Here are the key points:
- Lying on your back, no pillow, allows the body to support itself with no neck cricking.
- Lying on your side isn’t comfortable, but after a few nights the body gets the idea and stops trying to turn over.
The body adapts over time – so the floor that felt almost painfully hard on night 1 felt much more like it was simply a hard mattress by the end of the week.
Point 1 I believe explains why bad beds are worse than floors. Basically your body needs support, and a good bed will provide that, whilst the floor allows the body to support itself. A bad bed however, is one that provides some support but not enough, whilst getting in the way of the body’s natural posture that would allow it to support itself.
Finally, I’m interested in whether, through this practice of sleeping on floors I’m re-connecting with my oriental heritage, where sleeping on thin mats on the floor is cultural.
I feel empowered and freed by the idea that by sleeping on the floor I could sleep anywhere, and this reminds me that my mother did the same thing as a teenager. In fact, I might never had been born if my mother had not been willing to floor surf during her final years at school. Why? Because staying with friends was the only way she could find peace and quiet away from her chaotic, destructive parents and study. She excelled at exams, and was accepted on the UK nurses training scheme in the 1970s. Later, through nursing she met my father (who was having his tonsils out). None of this would have been possible if she hadn’t been able to sleep directly on hard floors. So in a sense, as I learn to do this, it feels as though I honour my mother’s determination and my history.
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