Sleep or Die [Infographic]

Ever since I could remember, I've had trouble sleeping. Perhaps, it had something to do with my nightly woes as a kid:

a. I had an alcoholic of an uncle growing up. Hmmm, that sounds wrong - most of my uncles on both parental divide were alcoholics. In fact, I had five uncles who died under the influence…plus a first cousin and my paternal grandfather.

But I digress… This uncle is Dad's second cousin. He was always drunk and when he's blotto, he's disturbing the peace to say it mildly. You know when he's smashed - he's daring anyone to come out of their and fight him. That is, him and his bolo - a large, sharply pointed, single-edged knife that was the Filipino warrior's (and revolutionary's) favorite weapon. When he's on a bender, he gets really scary.

A Filipino bolo. Image by Lorenzo Lasco

I slept with my grandparents and every single night that he's wrecked and hollering for a fight, I can remember my wee 6-year-old body quaking in extreme terror. Not the fact that we're safe home, that our bedroom door is locked and all the lights in our room - including all lamps and candles, I kid you not - are blazing, could take away the terror. It was like my mind was locked into a continued state of fright, that it was the end of the world, and I knew that if he yelled all night long I'll be dead by morning. I never felt safe…and it'd be morning by the time I could get to sleep.

I started sleeping well at night only when he died - he got run over by a bus during one of his nightly rages. (The agony I went through lasted for a year, I think.) My grandparents, I knew, sighed heaps of relief. In my kiddie mind, I can only thank God. I know, bad of me, but I was young and he was the terrorist of my life. His passing stopped the waking nightmare that I always had every day.