I’ve been with my partner for two and a half years, but we only started regularly sharing a bed a few months ago. No, we didn’t suddenly reconcile after a dramatic sleep divorce, or at least, not an intentional one; I’m just a heavy snorer dating a light sleeper, and for years, that equation added up to me snoozing on the couch whenever I stayed over at their house. We tried noise-blocking earbuds, BreatheRight strips and even mouth taping (I don’t doubt that it works for some people, but I felt like I was being kidnapped by the Joker), all of it to no avail—that is, until I finally acquiesced to my partner’s repeated request that I see a sleep doctor.
All it took was one night in my own bed, hooked up to a weird little device that measured my sleep, for my doctor to determine that I was suffering from sleep apnea and needed to wear a CPAP device to sleep. I was vaguely upset when I first got my diagnosis, mostly because I didn’t want to be forced to wear some giant, weird mask every night; but let’s be honest, probably also because our still-fatphobic, ableist culture had convinced me it was a failure to need any kind of device-based assistance with my snoring (an ailment that is often associated with obesity, even though I snored long before I was actually fat.)
Once I actually got the CPAP machine in the mail, though, I was pleased to discover that it wasn’t some massive, unwieldy monstrosity that would take up half my nightstand; the whole thing fit inside a neat little gray suitcase, and it was so easy to assemble and disassemble that even I—the least handy person alive, just ask anyone who’s ever attempted to put together an IKEA item with me—could pack my sleep stuff up and haul it over to my partner’s place without issue. The device does require purified water to use, but that’s easy and cheap to acquire at any grocery store; wearing a nasal mask attached to tubing at bedtime definitely took some getting used to, but almost four months into my CPAP journey, I’ve become an old pro (what can I say, I’m very good at sleeping.)
My sleep doctor promised me I’d start feeling more energetic throughout the day if I used my CPAP for at least four hours a night most nights of the week, and so far, he hasn’t been wrong; I definitely feel more awake these days, but one CPAP benefit I wouldn’t have been able to anticipate is the overall improved quality of my skin. I don’t know if the machine itself is directly responsible for my facial glow-up (although there is some evidence to suggest that treating sleep apnea can cut down on redness and puffiness), but using the CPAP at night has meant that I’ve had to switch to doing my skincare routine in the morning since the oils in cosmetic products can be bad for the machine.