Why Can't I Put Myself To Bed?

It's 10:00 p.m., and I'm exhausted.  I've worked 18 hours today.  My eyes are bleary and my mind is beginning to miss every other thought.  I am conscious that sleep would be bliss.   But instead, here I sit, continuing to work at my computer.

Why can’t I put myself to bed?

I have so many friends who lead well-ordered lives.  You know the ones:  When you call them after 9:30 p.m. you’re told, "She's already asleep," or "You missed her, she just went to bed."  In those houses, there is never an offer to wake "Sleeping Beauty."  Sleep is a well-guarded part of the routine, revered for all it offers:  rest, sanity, clear-headedness, health, even temper, alertness, attention.

I'm am jealous of those who have the discipline to put themselves to sleep at a 'reasonable hour.'  I understand the importance.  I dutifully put my own children to bed at a regular time and generally portend to sleep as an important component of a holistic approach to raising healthy children.

So why is it so hard to apply those values to myself?

Almost every evening it’s the same thing—at 10:00, my husband and I start talking about how late it’s getting.  Then, in the next breath, we pine over how much more we want to get done before tomorrow.  We return to our respective emails or household chores in preparation for the coming day.   

About 11:00, one of us remarks—again—at how late it’s getting and that we really should get some sleep.  The other agrees.  The clock ticks on, the ping of another email received continues and then the justification begins:  when else during the day are we going to get this stuff done anyway?

On a good night, just before 12:00, one of us will give up, eyes glazed, unable to focus.  If all is well, it will motivate the other to wrap it up and head upstairs together, closing up the house, getting glasses of water, putting the dog away for the night (or, if too tired, breaking our own rules and inviting her upstairs with us).  On other nights, the pull is too great, the work load is too large, or, better yet, the task is almost done and I stay at my desk.

So maybe it's 12:30, 1:00, or later, before I finally climb into bed.  I glance up to see a digital display communicating the time to my internal clock, processing just how much (or little) sleep I'm likely to get, mentally calculating tomorrow’s level of fatigue and steeling myself before I lose consciousness.

I know I need eight hours to be at my best, though seven hours does wonders for me.  But both of those are beyond my grasp most nights. Once I get down to six hours (the magic of midnight), I know I'm pushing it.  As soon as the number of hours of sleep dips below six hours, I’m aware the next day is going to get proportionally harder.

That's still not incentive enough to put myself to bed.

Once in bed, I crash hard, sleep hard, and wake up tired, foggy, and aching for more time under the covers.  And then the cycle repeats itself at 10 p.m.

I’m constantly sleep deprived.

The good news is that I no longer see this as a personal failure but more as a conflict between the competing interests that make up my life: motherhood, running a busy household and work.

There is, quite simply, not enough time in my day to accomplish all that I want - and need - to get done.  So it comes down to a matter of choices, really.  When I stay up late, I'm choosing to reduce the burden of the 'not done' the circles my home.  In exchange, I’m sacrificing some of the calm and focus that comes from getting enough sleep.

Hopefully, as I increase my personal discipline and continue to pay attention to the choices I make, I'll choose to put myself to bed on time and opt for a calmer, more focused existence during daylight hours.

At least, that’s my goal.

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This blog also appears as part of my regular column on ShareWiK.com.