My Struggle with Sleep

My parents assert that I previously slept more soundly than any other child. Between the ages of five and eight, I would nap in automobiles, on sofas, and similar locations. It wasn’t too big a fight to get me to bed at night either, which is saying a lot when you’re a tiny child. Although I did have a practice of awakening at 3 am and striking my mother's head with a book to get her to read to me, my overall sleep quality was generally consistent. However, at around age 12, a change occurred. It may have been puberty, characterized by surging hormones. I have always believed it may be related to my first encounters with anxiety. Regardless, that summer, I seldom slept. This implies that I would get around 2 to 3 hours of sleep each night. That isn’t enough for any youngster or for any adult. 

I recall experiencing a profound disconnection from the world, particularly from my friends. No one else was going through anything slightly comparable, at least to my knowledge. I remember having a foggy chat with one of my friends, as I attempted to express the experience of not being able to sleep. The sense of not being able to accomplish what my body was built to do was so inconceivably frustrating I had difficulty finding the words. “I can’t even imagine it,” she’d remarked. 

But as the summer ended, my sleep came back. I was startled. Was establishing a schedule really all it needed for me to sleep again? Not exactly, but it definitely did help. The next summer, it struck me again. The no sleeping, the hours sitting there with no respite from this knowledge. It feels lonely to be the only one awake. I began building a regimen throughout the summer. My mom would get me out of bed around 8 in the morning and offer me a cup of tea. She would take my groggy pajama-clad self out on early morning walks and I would stumble down the street with my eyes all foggy feeling grouchy and out of sorts. I was not an early bird. 

I began to think that maybe I was the issue. I was sleeping in too much. I was going to bed too late. I needed to become a morning person, that would definitely improve problems. I thought that for a very long time. I didn’t see how worry could possibly be tied to sleep. But for me, it was. During the summer, there was more time to ponder, which meant I tended to experience more worry than at school. And the same thing occurred over and over again: in the summer I would be unable to sleep, throughout the school year I was alright, for the most part. Until I wasn’t. 

Around age 15, I began having insomnia routinely throughout the academic year. For weeks at a period, I would sleep 3-5 hours, or occasionally none at all (at least, that’s what it felt like- really, I probably slept an hour or two. People tend to underestimate the length of time they are sleeping). I eventually gave up and went to the doctor. Instead of advising treatment, the doctor offered me some valium (folks, do not take valium. Especially when you are 15). My parents were scared of the material, and kept it locked in a drawer until I stated I absolutely needed it. I pledged never to use it two days in a row. For a time, it helped. I stopped taking it about 17 since my sleep appeared to be better. There were a few restless nights every week or so, but I could live with it. 

But then there was college. Freshman year was stressful anyway, but having two roommates who got up at 7 am every day for early morning biology sessions was not ideal for me. It was then that I suffered my worst attack of sleeplessness to this day. It began late autumn quarter and persisted until winter. I couldn’t fall asleep. I was sleeping maybe 1-2 hours a night. I overcompensated by pushing myself to go to bed far too early and get up at the crack of dawn even after a restless night. 

These activities led in me feeling continuously left out when friends would linger out late. But I hardly had the energy to put into socializing anyway. I began to imagine objects moving when they weren’t. People would speak to me and I would stare straight through them. I got terribly unwell. I went to the doctor and they told me I couldn’t get better unless I slept. But I can’t sleep, I would say. I felt so totally alone, and I missed most of my winter quarter courses, resting on a makeshift dog bed sofa which squished against the closet of my dorm room, watching endless TV and running a high temperature. 

I went on the queue to see a psychiatrist. It was a month long. I counted down the days. When covid struck, I had to go home and I remember the first time seeing my mom I just lost it and began screaming. It was a terrible period, but I was back in my own bed. And ultimately I had a consultation with the psychiatrist, who gave me Lunesta for sleep. While I do believe therapy is typically the superior option for dealing with sleep difficulties (and I wish someone told me this sooner), I was in a circumstance where medication was essential. I progressively recovered from being unwell and my sleep started to improve. 

Sophomore year of college I lived in “covid housing” which meant I was just with one other person and I had my own room. The steady adjustment was significantly better for my sleep. I called a sleep therapist who specialized in Acceptance and Commitment Therapy and it revolutionized my life. I began to learn about my sleep patterns, instead of the sleep habits I assumed I should have. I learnt three crucial things: 

1. I don’t need to push myself to go to bed or wake up. I merely need to strive to stay consistent while listening to my body whenever it displays signals of exhaustion or alertness

2. Anxiety was dominating over my sleep, and I was attempting to regulate it. But I couldn’t manage my slumber. All I can do is accept that my body knows how to sleep and will sleep eventually

 3. If I have difficulties sleeping one night, it doesn’t guarantee I will have trouble sleeping the following night.

I have learnt that creating a nightly ritual might lessen anxiety and even promote slumber. Overtime, my body learned to correlate my nightly ritual with sleep and I began to anticipate tiredness to occur at specific times. I discovered that I needed the routine element but that I also needed less expectation and more acceptance in my relationship with sleep. I maintained a sleep record and documented my sleep every night. I cut down caffeine for periods of time. I recognized that I had a lot of worry regarding my sleep environment being “just right:” the correct pillow, the appropriate clothes, the ideal blanket. I tried with altering up the surroundings to show myself that I could still sleep, even without ideal settings. 

There's no shortcut to obtaining decent sleep. It’s about being in a relationship with your body, one where you recognize that certain nights your body could have greater difficulties with sleep, and might require more help. Forcing sleep using quick fix solutions may lead to a lot of frustration and even more restless nights. This year I began as the sleep intern at Health & Wellness and since then I’ve been doing my darndest to reach students. As a student, it is so easy to settle into the cycle of being a zombie during the day and keeping fully awake at night. It makes socializing tricky, it makes your connection with yourself tough, it makes performing school work stressful, and it can be an amazing drain on a person's mental health. If you have a story you want to share, reach out to me. I want those tales to be told. 

I still take sleep medicine every evening  and I still employ therapy strategies to help me go to bed. It is a constant practice of self care that I always need to come back to, and it will never be perfect. But now I know what actions to take when I am suffering. I still have anxiety some nights, but for the most part, I sleep.