Naplio Facebook ad: “Read This If You Wake Up With A Stiff Neck”

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My husband said I'd been in a better mood since Tuesday. I'd been sleeping at my mother's since Tuesday. He meant it kindly. He said it while loading the dishwasher, not even looking up. I stood there holding a dish towel and felt something cold go through me. Because I'd been at my mom's for five nights after her hip surgery. And apparently in those five nights I had become someone easier to live with. I should explain what I was like before that, and I'd rather not, but it's the whole point. Theo is 7. He asks questions the way 7-year-olds do, which is the same one, four times, while you're trying to find a shoe. And most mornings I could do three of them. Nell is 4 and she spills things, because she's 4. I don't want to write down the voice I used. You know the voice. It's not yelling exactly. It's worse than yelling because it's cold, and afterward you can't even claim you lost control, because you didn't. You just had nothing left to be kind with, at 7:40 in the morning, before anyone had done anything wrong. Ben would ask if I was okay and I'd say I was fine in a tone that made it obvious I wasn't. And then one night in January I went in to apologize to Theo about something I'd snapped at him for, and he said it was okay, I was just tired. He'd worked it out. He'd built himself a little theory to explain why his mother was like this, so he'd have somewhere to put it. I sat on the floor of the hallway outside his room for a while after that. So I did what you'd do. I went looking for what was wrong with me. At 2:15 in the morning I was googling things like why am I so irritable all the time. How to stop snapping at your kids. Whether I might be depressed. I bought a gentle parenting book and highlighted half of it. Meditation app, 9 days. Cut caffeine for three weeks and was, if anything, worse. Vitamin D. Magnesium. In bed by 9:30 for a month. A therapist, four sessions, who was genuinely lovely and asked good questions, and none of it moved. Because I was answering the wrong question. I just didn't know that yet. There was another thing going on that I never once mentioned to her, or to Ben, or to anyone, because it seemed completely unrelated and honestly too boring to bring up. My neck had been stiff every morning for about three years. That was just a body thing. Filed somewhere else entirely. It had nothing to do with my temper, obviously. Then Ben said that thing at the dishwasher, and I couldn't let it go. Five nights. What was different about those five nights? Not less stress. My mother had just had a hip replaced and I was doing her compression socks at 6 AM. Not more sleep. I got less. The only thing that changed was the bed I was in. So that weekend I went back to my mom's and I stood in my childhood bedroom and looked at the pillow. It was flat. Thin, old, and honestly a bit sad. It has been on that bed since I was in secondary school. And at home I had a thick memory foam pillow I'd specifically bought because my neck hurt, which had cost more than any pillow should, and which had done nothing. The cheap flat one worked. The expensive supportive one didn't. That made no sense to me at all, and I got a bit obsessive about it, which Ben will confirm. Here's what finally showed me. I asked Ben to take a photo of me lying down. Just one, from the side, phone held at the height of the mattress. I lay the way I actually sleep, which is on my back. Then I looked at it. My chin was pushed down toward my chest. Not slightly. Like someone had handed me a heavy book and I was reading it. That thick expensive pillow was holding my head up at an angle my neck was then required to maintain for six or seven hours, every night, for three years. And the flat sad pillow at my mother's house just let my head sit back where it wanted to be. Then I made Ben take a second one, of me on my side, because I end up there for part of the night. Opposite problem. On my side the flat pillow left my head hanging down toward the mattress with my neck bent sideways. So there it was. One pillow. One height. And a body that needed one height on its back and a completely different one on its side, going back and forth all night long. There was never going to be a pillow that was right. Not a better one, not a more expensive one. The thing I needed wasn't a pillow with the correct shape. It was a pillow with a number I could set. I want to be honest that I felt ridiculous ordering it. I'd been to therapy about this. I had a highlighted parenting book on my nightstand. And here I was at 11 PM buying an $89 pillow. It's fill you take out by the handful until your head sits level. That's the entire thing. First night I left too much in and woke up sore and thought, well, that was predictable. Took a handful out. Then another the next night. Fourth morning I woke up at 6:10 before the alarm and lay there for a second trying to work out what felt strange, and it was that I hadn't done the thing where I check which side is worse today. Here's the morning I actually think about. About two weeks in, Theo asked me the same question four times while I was looking for Nell's other shoe. And I just answered it. Four times. Like it was nothing, because it was nothing. Then I went into the pantry and stood there for a minute with the door shut. Three years. Roughly a thousand mornings where I was cold to my own children before 8 AM and genuinely believed the reason was that something had gone wrong with who I am. I'm not going to tell you a pillow made me a better mother. It didn't. I still lose my temper, and the therapy was worth doing. But I lose it like a normal person now, occasionally, about something. Not every single morning, at nobody, because I'd spent the night with my chin pinned to my chest. If there's one thing I'd want you to take from this, it isn't the pillow. Tonight, get whoever you live with to take one photo of you lying down the way you actually sleep. Side or back, however you really do it, phone down at mattress height. Then look at your head. If your chin is tucked into your chest, or your head is sagging down toward the mattress, that's six or seven hours a night your neck is being held somewhere it doesn't want to be, and no amount of being a better person at breakfast is going to fix it. That photo costs nothing. Take it before you buy anything. If a doctor has already found something specific, a disc or a nerve or an old injury, listen to them and not to me. That wasn't my situation. But if you're where I was, googling your own personality at 2 AM, look at the photo first. The one I ended up with is the Naplio Pillow. You pull the fill out until your head sits level, they send extra in case you take out too much, and there's a 100-Night Trial, which I now understand, because it took me four nights to find my number. Mostly I just wish somebody had told me those were the same problem.

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naplio.com

Read This If You Wake Up With A Stiff Neck 👆

Fully adjustable memory foam pillow with a cool-to-touch gel side and a warm bamboo side. Fits how you sleep. 100-night trial, free shipping.