3 Lessons I’ve Learned From Insomnia
Everyone is fighting a hard battle.
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In 1994, at 27, I was a Ph.D. candidate on the academic job market. An interview brought me to Atlanta, Georgia.
I flew in and checked into the hotel arranged by the department. After dinner, I returned to my room and faced a dilemma: Should I go to sleep?
It was 9:00 p.m., quite early for a graduate student used to staying up until 3:00 a.m. and waking up at noon. On top of that, Atlanta was three hours ahead of Palo Alto.
However, I had a full day ahead of me. In fact, two professors were to meet me for breakfast at 7:00 a.m. If I wanted to be well-rested, I needed to go to bed early.
That was what I did.
But sleep never comes easily for me, even under normal circumstances. A night in a hotel before a big job interview was anything but normal.
As the bedside clock ticked from 9 to 10 to 11, I was still awake. I tossed and turned, trying every trick I knew: deep breathing, counting sheep. Nothing worked.
Finally, I switched on the lamp. I walked back and forth in the room. I grabbed a notepad and scribbled philosophical thoughts such as the nature of success and the impermanence of stress. All failed to calm my nerves.
The clock kept ticking, midnight, then 1:00 a.m. Panic set in: I was running out of time to sleep.
I’ve had trouble sleeping all my life.
As a child, I’d crawl into my parents’ bed when I couldn’t sleep.
In my teens, after spending the afternoon playing Chinese chess, I’d lie awake at night, re-living the games step by step.
In college, my roommates and I always chatted after the dorm lights went out at 10:30 p.m., until they drifted off one after another, leaving me with no one to talk to.
But that night in Atlanta was the first time I couldn’t sleep for an entire night. It marked a turning point. I now knew it was possible. The toxic knowledge forever poisoned my attitude toward sleep.
Modern people notoriously don’t get enough sleep. Everyone has trouble falling asleep now and then. However, the situation usually improves with better habits or reduced stress.
For those with more severe cases of insomnia, however, the usual advice from professionals offers limited relief. Our minds habitually refuse to surrender their consciousness, as if afraid of boredom. Mulling over the past and worrying about the future, wakefulness stretches into hours — and often into the next morning. The more exhausted we are, the more alert we become, driven by the very fear of missing the much-needed rest.
For over 20 years, it felt like I never had two consecutive nights of good sleep.
Victor Frankl once said, “Suffering ceases to be suffering at the moment it finds a meaning.” Since I can’t escape insomnia, the only way to lessen its pain is to realize it isn’t in vain. Is it? I’d like to think the answer is no, because insomnia has taught me some of life’s most valuable lessons.
Lesson 1: I’m stronger than I know
That night in Atlanta, I gave up on sleep at 5 a.m. I got up and showered, letting the water jolt me awake. As I put on the navy blue skirt suit I had bought specifically for the occasion, I looked sharp.
At the appointed hour, I walked out briskly to meet my interviewers. We had breakfast before heading to the department, where I gave a presentation in an auditorium and spent the day speaking with people. As the adrenaline kicked in, I felt normal.
On that day and numerous similar occasions later, I surprised myself with my strength.
As a veteran insomniac, I’ve learned to function on little sleep. I’ve pushed myself to show up for work, deliver demos, and catch early flights after sleepless nights. I never let exhaustion become an excuse. And honestly, I’m proud of that. Enduring chronic insomnia — and still showing up — feels like one of my greatest accomplishments.
Lesson 2: Some battles can’t be won by effort
I’ve always believed that more effort leads to better outcomes: more knowledge, more success, and more control over life. But insomnia has shown me that this view is rather naïve. I cannot will myself to sleep. The more effort I exert, the more elusive sleep becomes.
The hardest problems in life can’t be solved by power and determination. They may, however, be alleviated through non-action and letting go. When we grieve, age, come to terms with our past, or cope with insomnia, the best approach isn’t to fight, but to coexist.
Accepting this can be incredibly difficult, but what alternatives do we have?
Lesson 3: Everyone is fighting a hard battle
I consider myself, overall, a lucky person. I was born into a loving family. I excelled in most of my pursuits and received the best education. Though I didn’t get that job in Atlanta, I joined the Silicon Valley high-tech boom at the right time with the right skills. Today, I’m living a dream life filled with reading, writing, traveling, and gardening.
Yet character is built through hardship. Nobody seeks hardship. But when it is thrust upon you, it forces you to grow.
Insomnia is a curse. But it has reminded me that life isn’t always fair, that suffering is more common than we realize, and that we are all at the mercy of forces beyond our control.
“Any life, when viewed from the inside, is simply a series of defeats,” wrote George Orwell. “Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle,” said Ian MacLaren. Insomnia, I’d like to believe, has made me more compassionate and less arrogant, more forgiving and less judgmental.
