If you’ve ever been on the Sleep No More side of the internet, you know this character isn’t the one who brings you up to the hidden sixth floor experience. But what she did do was shepherd me through a story— just her and me, alone for nearly an hour. She was in control of our every move, and I was completely immersed, my outside life never once crossing my mind. It was the first time since I became a parent where I truly lost myself in something. Unlike during that first visit, I wasn’t thinking about the responsibilities awaiting me, or getting back to my child.
Seeing Sleep No More was not the first thing I’d done “for myself” since having a child, of course. I’d taken sporadic workout classes, scheduled an odd facial, even left town for a few days on a solo getaway to celebrate reaching my breastfeeding goal. But—as any parent likely knows—I always had one foot back in the parenting world, my phone never more than an arm’s length away. Those hours I spent in Sleep No More were the first time that I was fully present in something else.
While you’re in the performance, you’re given a mask to wear, ostensibly to distinguish you from the actors. But many patrons will tell you that the mask does more than that—it provides an escape for the audience member, too. It gives you a freedom, a permission to submit to the world the creators have built for you. And the most shocking part was that none of this made me feel guilty, the way we moms often do after indulging in something just for ourselves, or, god forbid, forgetting about our responsibilities briefly.
After that second trip, my mind felt revitalized—a precious experience since motherhood had reduced so much of my brain to that rote caretaking. People often talk about the importance of getting “back” to yourself after becoming a parent, but I was experiencing something different—discovering a new, yet familiar part of myself.
Sleep No More is often seen as a macabre mystery, but it is also a nesting doll of unending riddles without definitive explanations. That open-endedness became a gift, allowing me to enter a world of critical thinking and analysis after my daughter was in bed each night. My self-guided sessions were a tangible reminder that motherhood was not all there was to me. That I could return to the things that brought me joy.
