Looking back over the years, I cannot remember a time that I felt ready to face the day, any day, with less than 8 hours of sleep under my belt. And to be at my best, 9 (or more) is where it’s at.
I have high sleep need.
And in case you haven’t noticed, our society doesn’t exactly laud great sleepers. In fact, in an era when self-care is the topic du jour and we, especially women, and even more so mothers are aware of how important it is to fuel ourselves to avoid burnout, sleep is rarely a part of the conversation.
When you require significantly more sleep than average in a world where 60 hour work weeks and productivity rule, well, you can feel like a loser (at least I do).
It has taken awhile for me to reconcile the fact that I’m never going to be one of those people who can be productive late into the evening and then get up early the next morning and hit it hard again. There was never any all night cramming for exams because I knew my rest was much more crucial than a few hours of additional review. And at this point in life, when many parents have no problem staying up until midnight or later waiting for their teens to return for the night, I am long since in bed before my daughter rolls in at night.
I have learned, when vacationing or doing fun things, that if I let my FOMO (fear of missing out) trump my sleep it ends in disaster. More often than not it’s a real bummer to choose between dedicating well over a third of each day to slumber or spend the time you didn’t spend in bed feeling like dog meat.
I have long envied people who thrive on 6, 7 or even 8 full hours of sleep, and wondered if there was some kind of secret element I was missing that prevented me from doing more with less in the rest department. I played with essential oils and supplements, both for rest and for daytime wakefulness and wasted hundreds of dollar. I used caffeine to offset the effects of my less than adequate time in bed and wound up jittery but still groggy. I have experimented with pillows and mattresses, trying to find the Holy Grail of comfort that would somehow make my sleep more efficient so that less would feel like more.
Nothing, absolutely nothing is a sufficient substitute for 8, 9 (or even more) solid hours in bed.
At the ripe old age of 44, after living this way for as long as I can remember, it stands to reason that it won’t change any time soon.
At the end of the day, high sleep need is a part of me. In order to care for myself, I need to honor that, and as an ongoing effort at self-compassion, acknowledging this as who I am and letting go of the notion that needing sleep is something I can or should fix has been a bit of a paradigm shift toward self-acceptance. One that is (as with most things in my life) long overdue.
My path toward self-compassion has meant recognizing the many ways that I am not a round peg in a world where pegs don’t work unless they are round. It means accepting where I don’t fit typical expectations, and refusing to frame that as any type of failure or inadequacy. It means that rather than finding ways around the ways that I am different or quirky, that I will respect who I am and how I am made, and accommodate my needs rather than suppress or ignore them. In other words, I’m finally doing for myself what I have naturally done for my children for years.
This is what it takes for me to thrive, and doggone it, I deserve to thrive.