A personal essay,
Sleepless.
On sleep's role in my life.
Sleepless.
Written in 2019.
Virtually all animals on the planet need to sleep. The reasons seem obvious - you need to recharge your body and your brain, just like you need to plug in your iPhone at night. But the benefits are essentially endless, according to Matthew Walker of the University of California at Berkeley. “We used to ask the question: ‘Does sleep do any good, or serve any function? Now we’ve been forced to upend the question and ask if there is anything that isn’t improved by sleep, or impaired by sleep deprivation. And currently the answer is ‘no’” (Barras).
Why then are humans so often unable to sleep? You rarely see a dog lying in his bed, staring at the ceiling, and counting the minutes until morning. In his essay,“ Far into the Night,” philosopher Alain de Botton argues, “We can’t sleep, in part, because we have so much unfinished thinking left to do.” Sleep is a crucial component of my schedule day after day. Yet insomnia, or a lack of sleep, has actually played a far greater role in my life than sleep itself.
Not being able to sleep is a curse in the eyes of millions of Americans, and I am no exception. As I toss and turn, shifting under the weight of the fatigue I will undoubtedly face the following morning, I question what I have done to deserve such torture. Yet lying awake as darkness stares me in the face has consistently been home to my greatest moments of introspection. With my head resting on a pillow, alone except for my own thoughts, my mind wanders to places it is not capable of while restricted by people, places, and the life I lead while influenced by outside factors.
Suspended between consciousness and unconsciousness, sleeplessness is the only time in which I feel truly authentic. While during the day I may be a friend, a student, a daughter - at night, I am simply me. My dreams are bigger, my self-reflection deeper, and my limitations nonexistent. With infinite possibilities for exploration, my mind enters unusual territory that may be unsettling, stupid, or ridiculous to my friend, my teacher, or my mother. These people see me in a certain way, and for them, I must be a certain way; and sometimes these expectations prevent me from being real. But blinking against the wind of my ceiling fan, I am not bound to a name or an identity. It is the only time my truly unadulterated thoughts can rise to the surface.
I now try to treat my insomnia as a feature, not a bug, a positive instead of a negative. Alone in my bed, I no longer have to pretend to be someone else. It is the only time I am able to explore my true self without the filter of the perceptions of others. Rather than strive for what I am lacking in sleep, I now consider what I am gaining in self knowledge. As Alain deBotton says, “Insomnia is a gift – and a latent education.