Coming hot off how I learned the importance of eating well, you might notice a theme here – I wait for things to turn to shit before taking them seriously. At least that’s what young me did – slightly less young me is getting a bit better at this. Nevertheless, I’m grateful for these experiences, because without them, I may not be as adamant today about eating, sleeping, and exercising well.
Unlike food, my experience learning about sleep is a lot simpler. I didn’t have three major fuckups that fit nicely into a list-based blog post. Just one extended period without good sleep, and I knew – this sleep stuff is not trivial. Although I didn’t realise right away that sleep was the cause of my problems; I had other things going on. Let’s dig in.
My life situation: newly independent & suffering from heartbreak
In my first year of uni, I lived on campus and was catered for. So even though I lived away from my parents, I didn’t learn shit about cooking my own food (and thus doing my own shopping). Knowing that I’d have to learn it eventually, I did occasionally bug mum to teach me while I stayed at home. Whatever she showed me seemed like rocket science, so I became frustrated and gave up pretty quickly. Long story short, I was woefully unprepared to live alone.
Living with three housemates helped, but at the same time they seemed to be ten steps ahead of me in a lot of regards: they seemed more comfortable cooking, shopping, cleaning, doing laundry – anything remotely independent. They all moved in with the right equipment, while I had yet to even acquire it, let alone know which pans, pots, or laundry racks to look out for to do the job properly.
One of them gave me shit for my lack of abilities. While I understood his frustration, and it got to me in feeling like I was a failure, I do maintain that I didn’t choose my upbringing, and just didn’t have some of the experiences they did.
To add to the misery, my room was the only room in the house with a tile floor. Not carpet. Not wood. Tile. This was the first home in my life that didn’t feel like home. It wasn’t physically comfortable, and it looked like a kitchen or a bathroom. The mattress wasn’t great either. I was never picky about mattresses before, but which teenager is? I was thrilled to sleep on the couch for a change growing up. But I was slowly morphing into an adult-like being, so I noticed shit mattresses. In every possible sense, this room didn’t feel like home.
The final slice of the shitcake was that, in the Summer, I rekindled with a girl I used to know from school. Let’s call her Jess. We walked, shopped, and partied together, and I was pretty infatuated. But just as we were about to get together, and made plans about visiting each other, she broke it off seemingly out of nowhere. Without much experience at the time, this would have been my first love, making it even harder.
What sleeping like shit felt like
You’d think that you could draw from an experience of a shit night’s sleep, and infer from that what shit sleep is like over a longer period. But my God, one night of poor sleep and a period of it are worlds apart.
Up to that point, I had my fair share of individual nights of poor sleep, just like anyone else in the world. Perhaps I was out drinking and partying, or I voluntarily slept on the couch because my parents were away, or I was nervous before an exam. The former was mostly on a weekend, and with most of my homework done before going out, I didn’t notice how unfocused I may have felt. Plus, I was young, and after nights of really short sleep (in the 0-4 hour range), some form of adrenaline took over, and the next day was weirdly fun. It was like being drunk or high. If it was an exam, the nervousness kept me awake the next day anyway, so even if my performance was impaired, I wouldn’t have noticed.
In a way, those were all self-imposed. But sleeping poorly over a period as long as this was most definitely not. At least not consciously. Even a few days in, I wasn’t myself. I was back at uni, and second year was much tougher than the first. With more demanded of me, I felt every way in which I was struggling. It wasn’t uncommon for me to be sleepy in a lecture in first year, occasionally even drifting off. But now, it happened during almost every lecture. And it wasn’t the nice kind where I felt excited, then got sleepy, then energised through the nap. I was foggy throughout, and though I could have stayed on campus to study or read, I had to go home and rest.
Up to that point, I considered myself a high-energy person. Through this period, I felt numb. I had less enthusiasm for things. It’s not that I didn’t experience any joy whatsoever – I did enjoy time spent with friends, especially after having not seem them all Summer. I experienced moments of laughter, or motivation during long runs. But it was more muted, and less frequent, than at any other time in my life.
Had this gone on for longer, it may have changed how I thought of myself as a person. In some ways, I realised how lucky I was to have slept to well before, and to have a realistic goal to aspire to return to. Had I grown up with this sort of sleep, I may never have realised any room for improvement, and possibly never pursued it.
Thankfully, I experienced a few changes which, step by step, got me back on track. They sound very different, though I realise now, looking back, that they share a common theme: comfort.
A cozier room: A comfortable environment
When I visited home during our Autumn break, I told my parents about my tile room. They happened to have a spare rug they weren’t using, so I took it back to my uni home. It’s insane to me how big of a difference this thing made. It wasn’t very big, just enough to fit the space between my bed and desk. But having something warm and fuzzy to sink my feet into when getting up, or just resting my feet on when working at my desk, made a world of difference. The rest of my room was still cold, bare tile, but the part I used most was now genuinely cozy.
I feel like a bit of a dumbass for not decking out my room even further. Sure, I was a student, but I also had the mummy and daddy bank supporting me. I could have at least found some second hand rugs, lamps, posters, and other decorations to feel more at home. I had friends with awesomely-decorated rooms to be inspired by. But I wasn’t used to having to deck out a room for myself, so I didn’t even try. Nevertheless, I felt that much more at home in my room. It wasn’t perfect, but it was a step in the right direction, and that let me relax and let my guard down.
Just how much this improved my sleep is hard to say, because it occurred in tandem with a second change:
Processing & accepting the heartbreak: Emotional comfort
At uni, thinking of Jess made me depressed; combined with my poor sleep, I was low on energy and rarely in a good mood. Upon returning home, however, some magical combination of factors turned things around. Perhaps because I was physically close to where I had those good times with her, I couldn’t help but confront my feelings. I also slept a lot better at my parents’, which brought me into a state better prepared for processing my emotions. At uni, I may have been subconsciously shoving them aside, or thinking about her but not dealing with my feelings, perhaps even holding on to hope.
Riding the bus into town to see my friend, I called her one last time. I was ready to tell her I wanted to see her, but she didn’t pick up, and I cried. Of course, not picking up could be for any number of reasons, but I saw it as a reflection of her (lack of) feelings for me, so I crumbled. For one of the only times in my life, I wasn’t just releasing a tear and some sniffles. It was a river, tears flowing. And it was one of the most cathartic moments of my life.
People sitting next to me on the bus, as well as those getting in when I got out, took notice. My friend was confused as all hell, but I couldn’t care less. All cried out, with my last ounce of hope gone, I was free. I had a long, awesome day with him, and while I still thought about Jess from time to time, I could do so without triggering a whole raft of feelings. I could analyse everything in a sober, analytical way, and learn from the experience.
When I returned to uni with the rug, a clear head, and a functioning heart, I slept noticeably better. It was still a shit mattress in a mostly-tile room, but it was a big improvement nonetheless. Of course, being a student, I pulled the odd all-nighter to complete assignments, fucking up my sleep in a whole other way. But those were occasional one-offs, unlike this period of sub-par sleep.
Looking back, the way I recovered my sleep and emotions goes to show the point I laid out in The Happiness Network: Things affect each other, both ways. Sleeping better at home helped me deal with my emotions, and with my emotions healthily processed, I slept a lot better. I just had to start somewhere.
As I always say (but can never say enough), other factors played a part. It was becoming Winter, so that might have helped me sleep. By spending more time in the new place, I also got over some of the initial excitement and nervousness of living independently. I got used to doing more myself. If anything, that still plays into my larger theme of comfort. Besides, I noticed my sleep improve subtly but immediately after returning with the rug and clear head, so they played a role above and beyond just me getting used to this new environment.
One final change, however, blows any of the other ones out of the water:
Mattress topper: Physical comfort
My sleep may have been better, but it was far from what it was like at home. One day, studying on campus, I had a flash of inspiration. I remembered that a girl who lived in my corridor in first year had an extra… thing on top of her mattress. She had a cozy room overall, but I specifically recalled that thing, as sleep was on my mind. So I reached out to ask for its name, and immediately ordered myself a so-called mattress topper on Amazon.
It arrived on the 4th of February 2016, during the second semester of my second year. I had to look up the date, but the moment stuck with me as a momentous one. I slept better immediately. My parents’ nagging on about looking for quality mattresses turned out not to be nagging. Even as we entered Summer, I slept wonderfully compared to before.
When I moved away after graduating, I left my topper with a second-year friend, who also swore by it. When I stayed in campus for my Masters, I ordered another as soon as I moved in, to equally wonderful results. I’ve since moved into my own place with a quality mattress, but for anyone who needs sleep on a tight budget, I can’t recommend these enough. If a new mattress costs hundreds or even thousands of dollars, a good topper won’t set you back more than $120 (AUD)/£70/however many USD. If that number still seems high (and I get it, I was a student once), think of it like literally buying energy and happiness. We sleep every night of our lives (or should, anyway), and this thing helps you do that better.
My partner now has my second topper at her dad’s place, where the mattress isn’t as good as at mum’s, and can’t imagine going back. I’m no expert on what mattress toppers are better than others, but I was happy with one 3″ and one 8cm (sorry for the metric confusion, I bought them in different countries). Both were memory foam, and fit the size of my bed. I’m sure you’ll find one that suits your needs.
My advice: start with the topper
It’s a bit frustrating that I got the topper last. I improved my relationship with food when I got it, which is awesome. But I couldn’t help but feel like sleeping that well from the start would have saved me a whole lot of depression. Oh well, I learned some valuable lessons, and by experiencing such a shitty phase, I could appreciate the life that sleep breathed back into me all the more.
So there you have it. Make yourself comfortable, in every possible way. But maybe start with the physical comfort, because it’s instant, and easy. The rest will sort itself out, because sleep truly is a wonder drug.
Have you, dear reader, ever gone with less sleep? Or done anything to improve yours?