Finally Drifting

“Marci, time to get up for school,” my mom would shout from the bottom of the staircase, “we’re already running late!”

“I can’t lift my head up” I groaned back.

This may seem like a normal interaction with a mother and her 8-year-old daughter, but for me, I knew that it was different. I could just never place my finger on it.

Things felt off, always. All my life. I was constantly tired and constantly needing sleep.

Their faces gnarled while saying, “Marci’s asleep during the lesson again” to Mr. White. The kids poked and prodded and panted with laughter when nothing would wake me up.

Mr. White would walk over to my desk, knock right by my ear, and if that didn’t wake me up, pull out the arm that my head was resting on. Not so my head would slam into the desk, but so I would be jolted awake. One time that did happen though.

I went home and told my mom, but she didn’t believe Mr. White would do such a thing. Why would I lie about that? She ignored my persistent cries for help over, and over, and over again.

Because something was wrong with me. There had to be.

The cycle was unbreakable.

“Bedtime for Marci,” and then lying awake until the morning light peaked through my pale pink curtains. That was when I could finally drift.

The problem wasn’t me, it was that the world’s schedule was different. We didn’t align.

***

I didn’t recognize this until I could leave the house—until I went away to college. You can imagine I wanted to go far, far away. That is considering I grew up in a home that wouldn’t believe a word that came out of my mouth. A home that called me lazy and abhorrent; I had to look up what that word meant in fifth grade. And so, I packed my bags for Maine with my family on the other side of the world in Northern California.

Maine may seem like a weird choice, and I guess it kind of is, but it just felt right for some reason.

And upon living in Maine alone, I broke the cycle. The cycle of sleepiness, sadness, and feeling like a “lazy bum.”

***

Signing up for classes in mid-August, I scrambled to find the ones I would like best. But obviously, freshmen don’t get the best pick of the litter.

However, I looked on the bright side of things; since I went in as undeclared, I don’t have to worry yet about major requirements and can just choose general education requirements. My only personal requirement was to never choose any early morning classes.

This was almost impossible, but I decided to choose less-interesting courses at better times for me.

I had my first-year seminar, writing 101, statistics for my math credit, animal behavior as a science, another course of American history as if I didn’t take it all my life, and intro to philosophy. No art classes or psych classes like I was hoping, but because of it, my life had changed in a way I wasn’t expecting.

My weirdest class: animal behavior.

After two weeks of introductory material, we were introduced to the sleep patterns of animals. The ones that stuck out were all the nocturnal creatures; the bats, raccoons, coyotes, and lastly, the barn owl.

I didn’t think much of it until Dr. Thompson started talking about the circadian rhythm,

“Every single one of you has a circadian rhythm, some of you even may be closer to these animals than you think.”

What seemed to be a throwaway joke to everyone in the class, as college students are notoriously known for partying late and sleeping in, these words rang in my ears. Is this what I’ve been missing all along?

When the class came to a close I quickly raced back to my dorm to do some research.

“Circadian rhythm sleep” I typed.

I scrolled and scrolled until I saw, “Circadian Rhythm Sleep Disorders: Delayed Sleep Phase Disorder.”

My eyes scanned the page, it read almost as if it were an ad: “Do you feel one with the barn owls? Are you most alert at night? Are you tired during the day? ARE YOU PERCEIVED AS LAZY?”

It wasn’t in all caps, but it may as well have been.

This wasn’t a diagnosis but it was a start. It was a reason for my eternal tiredness and feelings of incapability. I wasn’t alone.

***

When I went back home for winter break, I shared the news with my mother. At this point, I had been diagnosed with delayed sleep phase disorder. For me, it didn’t mean much but succumbing to the schedule my body naturally wanted to adapt to.

In short, I became nocturnal.

My mother responded with, “What is that?” and “I don’t believe you.”

I wasn’t surprised.

***

That was the last time I spent an extended break back in California. I stayed in Maine. I stayed in the colder weather and up during gorgeous nights. I adapted the life of a barn owl. I finally found peace.