Asick kind of pride developed for me in my quest to make my insomnia a superpower. In those hours where others “had” to sleep, the night was mine, finally. The entertaining, the social leadership and responsibility, all faded to silence and a new world unfolded.

What might I discover this night?

I heaped on more projects, more responsibilities and goals. They bled into my sacred witching hours. Soon, pulling all-nighters was simply a requirement. The daytime world moved in fuzzy patterns. Each day had hours of “fake it ’til you make it” — yet I was hooked on the potential of a minimum viable sleep approach to life.

My longest stretch without sleep was 7 days.

It could have been more. I do not know the exact length of time. I stopped being able to tell time after the 4th or 5th day. It was as much an experiment in forcing my unslept, toxic brain to use other parts of its grey matter to function. I theorized it would unlock some new abilities and insights since we only use 20% of our brains, right?

There was a hallucination where I swore I could control streetlights, see inside them, look through walls. One night in 2004, I saw a green longcoat hanging in the back of a thrift chop through it’s solid white walls. A few weeks later, sure enough, the coat I saw was there. This coincidence did not help. There was little to deter me from pushing the limits.

Advances in neuroscience disproved my theory. All those 2nd and 3rd “winds” I felt were just my body squeezing out more cortisol to let me survive. The multi-day “runs” were to prove my youth and resilience, my stubborn pride in defying expectations and rules of schedule and sleep’s controls.

My rebellion became an unexpected fix. Being known as the “never sleeper” had its own controls and expectations.

Tell me I don’t need to sleep, criticize me for resting? Oh yeah? I’m “that type?”

Sleep became the defiance.

I was never good at it. I learned, became a light sleeper as a young child — on watch for something dangerous or interesting or important in the havoc of my sister’s epilepsy.

There was always something to do, read, explore, discover. Why waste time sleeping? I feel so alive.

Coming to appreciate of rest is a privileged kind of journey. Dreams are their own worlds to explore. A fresh, toxin-flushed brain upon waking from a solid rest feels like unlocking a superpower. Sleep is accepted as part of the process.

I fear all of the variables threatening to keep me awake, to capture my attention and keep my thoughts running. I fear them until I purge them, in an ultimate act of rebellion to their controls.

There are wakings and rises in cortisol throughout the unknown night. New potentials flood my vulnerable mind. I purge them again and again, until sunlight says it is ok to let back in the waking world.