Cracking the Sleep Mystery

I suck at sleeping, and in the past five years it has been harder (worse) than before. There. I’ve said it. I’m not embarrassed to admit it because, chances are, if you are reading this, you, or someone you know and want to help, has a little or a lot of trouble sleeping too. Yes?

Before going further, I thank the person or people who came up with this challenge, one that I relish. I decided not to make any resolutions at all for the new year, because of the boomerang effect. If you say you don’t know what that is, I don’t believe you—I think you are just pretending. Captain Picard, in Star Trek the Next Generation, found out about the boomerang effect. He had to navigate through a pernicious asteroid field. Every time he turned on the warp engines the field used the power against him and dragged the Enterprise closer to destruction. He put it together in time, turned off the warp drive, and slipped through the field with impulse power and the sling-shot effect from obstacle to obstacle. Clever fellow!

For example, take weight management. If you’ve never had the issue, just for a minute play along—pretend that you have. If I resolve to lose weight, you know what happens. I can’t sustain the resolution and it blows up in my face weeks into the new year. Why? You could have several theories, and I’m in no position to disprove them. You could say I have a lack of will power, no moral fibre. You might be right. You could say that my prior habits re-assert themselves. Could be. My own explanation is a little more outside of myself. I believe that the negative forces gang up on me—weight increasing foods appear everywhere I go—enticements and commercials weaken my resolve, suck up the force of my resolution like malevolent asteroids, using it against me, and sooner or later I succumb. I have succumbed many times. You don’t believe in the existence of the negative forces? Just make a resolution. You’ll find out soon enough. If you despise me for my weaknesses, you were probably not going to read this to the end anyway. Be happy. I salute your will power. Tell yourself that I just don’t have enough of it if that makes you feel better. No hard feelings. You do you and let me be me.

But this challenge—this is different. This one I can get behind. It’s important, and I’m not going to be working against deep-seated desires or agents of the negative forces. This is more of a problem for me to crack for myself as an individual than a doomed-to-fail demonstration of my feeble moral fibre. So thank you!

What makes this resolution important? I suspect that most of us know that. There is plenty of evidence on the scientific side that adequate sleep is essential to health and well-being. One of my colleagues from work is a world-class sleepspert: Joseph de Koninck, Emeritus Professor, School of Psychology, University of Ottawa. LINK: Joseph DE KONINCK | Professor Emeritus | PhD | University of Ottawa, Ottawa | School of Psychology (researchgate.net)

If you think proper sleep doesn’t matter, just take a look at the titles and abstracts of some of his publications on his Researchgate site in that link. They will give you the willies. “Sleep and Second-Language Acquisition Revisited…” Well you can tell where that one is going. And is there something special about learning a second language, or does lack of sleep screw up all learning?

“Cardiovascular Dysfunctions Associated with Sleep-related Breathing Disturbances.” Great. I’ve had a heart attack, and, I’m told, two major silent heart attacks before that. Great. Thank you very much. Just great.

“Novel Measures to Assess the Effects of Partial Sleep Deprivation on Sensory, Working, and Permanent Memory.” I’ll just bet I can tell you what those measurements show.

I read the thesis of one Joseph’s graduate students. It was nominated for a prize: experimental research proving that lack of sleep produces cognitive deficits in the frontal lobe of the brain. Hey, I have enough trouble with my thinking as it is, without adding sleeplessness-induced frontal-lobe deficits to the mix.

Are you surprised by those findings? I wasn’t either. I mean, it was a good thesis, an excellent demonstration based on well conducted research, but most of us have felt that effect more than once. Go without sleep and then try to go about your day. Adding two plus two requires a calculator if I haven’t slept. Maybe the people you interact with indulge your zombie-like communication, or maybe you’re just too tired to notice the eye rolling.

Sleep deprivation is a recognized form of torture, used to interrogate prisoners, to break them. It is forbidden by international conventions. Still, some of us manage to put ourselves through it. I hadn't thought about that, but when I screw up my sleep I am violating the Geneva Convention.

Is insomnia genetic? Some clinics suggest that it may run in families (see below). My father slept like a log. My mother had a hard time sleeping. At one point she tried to do a sleep study, but it didn’t work because she couldn’t fall asleep.

Lack of sleep can undermine a lot. It can impede weight loss. It can divert us from other activities we want or need to do. Actually it can sabotage many of the alternative resolutions I might have made, had I been tenacious and stubborn enough to try to resolve to lose weight or exercise more this year. I want to do those things, but I am going to approach them indirectly, by cracking the sleep question, then aligning with other objectives without triggering the dreaded boomerang effect. Just like Captain Picard.

You’re chortling? Laughing out loud? Well laugh while you can. I would rather take the right approach now than fight yet another losing battle against the Prince of Darkness, the Dark Lord of the Lower Worlds, and his bread, potatoes, cake, and missed exercise sessions in February. And I would love to get a good night’s sleep. Oh and you’re right, for all I know it is the “Dark Lady” of the lower worlds, the “Kali,” rather than the “Kal.” Which one does all that baking? That’s the way to answer the question.

Good medical sites on the internet offer lots of reasons for insomnia, and I’ve had some of them: stress and aging being two obvious ones. The quantity and quality of my sleep took a nose dive when my wife was diagnosed with terminal cancer and died five years ago. I am 66 years old. I think that counts as aging.

Thanks to my efforts so far, I can list a few things that have helped me and some that haven’t. I do better with a platform and mattress of the right firmness and quality. It’s surprising how many of us spend money on other things but don’t take the time to get a helpful mattress. I do need a cool mattress and a cool pillow. The cool pillow is especially important because I am bald. The term “hot-head” is one I use literally.

I need a bit of cool, fresh air. I have respiratory allergies and frequent congestion. I stand a better chance of sleeping on my side, with more ample airways. I used to snore. People who live alone actually don’t know whether they snore or not. My cats do not complain of that.

I’ve learned to reduce the possibility of sudden, attention-getting noises that wake me up, and to sleep through most other noises. Every night before going to bed, I carefully remove all breakables, so that my playful cats won’t knock them over in the night.

And since I’ve mentioned my two feline companions, I think they are models of good sleeping. They can nod off at the drop of a hat, and seem to spend almost two thirds of the day asleep. I do try to avoid napping with them, because I am just aiming for one third of the day, and a cat nap seems to make it harder for me to sleep through the night. And they break the night up with “patrols,” while I want to extend my sleep until the morning. Even so, to sleep as peacefully as a cat, and fall asleep as easily…

The human bladder is not on the side of a sleep-desiring older male. Can I get back to sleep after getting up in the middle of the night, or am I in for another of those two-hour wide-awake nights, not falling back to sleep in time to get proper rest? At that point there seems to be no good solution. Counting things? It's never worked for me; I can count pretty high. I’ve tried prime numbers too. There are a lot of those. Reading? Somehow it just doesn’t work. Meditating? I meditate actively, zoom zoom, so that doesn’t put me to sleep. Look at something on the computer? Most sites advise against that. Something about the lights and the brain. By now you’ve realized I was not a science professor. Breathing exercises? I could try more of them, but so far no success.

The poet Coleridge addressed this in an ode he called ‘Dejection’: “Tis midnight, but small thoughts have I of sleep: Full seldom may my friend such vigils keep! Visit her, gentle Sleep! with wings of healing.” It’s well written. And indeed there is plenty of evidence to show that we do heal in our sleep, physically and emotionally.

Shakespeare put it well in Hamlet’s soliloquy, Act III, Scene 2, I think, “To sleep—perchance to dream: ay there’s the rub…” Oh and Shakespeare fans, don’t trouble yourselves to contradict me by saying he was talking about death. Of course (I know that) he was, but why that metaphor? It seems obvious that the bard was an insomniac, do you not agree? I suppose that’s how he found the time to write all those plays. Oh and now you think you’re clever to point out what you think is a contradiction. If he had a cognitive deficit or two from insomnia, why doesn’t that show up in the plays? Well maybe it does. After all that bit in the same speech about the slings and arrows of misfortune and the sea of troubles is one glaring mixed metaphor, don’t you think?

And what about all those sleep-walking scenes in plays and operas? Bellini wrote an opera called La Somnambula, The Sleepwalker. I’ll bet the librettist had some personal experience. Have you sleep-walked? I have. You don’t have to be Lady Macbeth. Yes, when I was seven years old I left my six-year-old cousin behind at day camp, and guilty feelings about that have stayed with me, but I think I’ve gotten over them enough to sleep. She certainly has put the incident behind her, though she has not forgotten… And speaking as we were of second language acquisition, I have sleep-talked, in my third language—that did not help the sleep of my wife on that night! My thesis advisor sleepwalked down his stairs and broke his wrist—not good!

Then there is dreaming. There’s quite a bit to read about those articles on Researchgate. To make a long story short, sleep affects dreaming and dreaming influences learning and mental well-being. Are you interested in your dreams? Without good sleep you may not remember them, or they may be so wonky they don’t tell you anything. Wonky is not a correct scientific term, but I’m sure you know what I mean.

How far back in time do my sleep issues go? Hmmmn. Quite far. I was given tranquilizers as a child. My aunt told my mother I didn’t sleep enough and if I didn’t need tranquilizers, she would. I don’t mean to re-ignite the tranquilizer debate—actually I begged them not to make me take them. I’m just pointing out that I have a checkered sleep history.

My father made the mistake of telling me to count when I could not fall asleep. The next night I asked him what number came after 999. He was a patient man. It was good that he fell asleep easily.

Research has gone ahead on the Circadian rhythms, especially on Circadian rhythm sleep disorders. In theory we all have an internal clock that ought to wake us and put us to sleep on a 24-hour cycle. (You didn’t realize I was this good at telling jokes, did you?) There is a straightforward summary of Circadian rhythm sleep disorders on the Cleveland Clinic site: https://my.clevelandclinic.org/health/diseases/12115-circadian-rhythm-disorders.

My wife and I had (individually and separately) the first two. She certainly had the ‘Delayed Sleep Phase Disorder’. Officially people afflicted with this are night owls. She was certainly more energetic, alert, and productive late at night; I said she experienced a sort of ‘crescendo’ starting at about 10 p.m., then began feeling tired around 2 or 3 a.m. Mornings for her were not easy, 9 o’clock classes very hard to manage.

I violated and violate the Circadian cycle in different ways. I wake up early, often in the middle of the night, and have little or no staying power as the evening progresses, unless of course I have slept during the day, which usually ruins my ability to sleep through the night. I remember reading about this and discussing our ‘Circadian conflict’ early in our marriage, and we tried our best to harmonize our sleep, but we didn’t really succeed. Sometimes when we entertained, I fell asleep in the middle of a sentence, and I mean my own sentence, and that is not socially acceptable. And I know that my wife longed to be able to sleep on a schedule a bit closer to the norm for most.

I certainly had the habit of being awake and active very early in the morning throughout my younger years (‘Advanced Sleep Phase Disorder’). I read a lot during those hours, did my course work when I was a university student, taught myself Latin while everyone else was still asleep. Society seemed to approve of my disorder more than that of my wife, but that was an illusion. Both interfered with graceful living. True there was the oft repeated saw that “Early to bed and early to rise makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise.” But it didn’t do that for me. And the vivacious blonde character on the silly television program F Troop, one that I sometimes watched with headphones because reruns of it were on at four in the morning and I could not sleep, once pointed out that her mother was a dance-hall girl in Dodge City, and said, “If you go to bed with the setting sun, you’ll surely miss a lot of fun.”

Jet lag makes a good demonstration of what it feels like when we are not aligned with Circadian rhythms. A trip to a European destination with a time change of five or six hours certainly makes an impact. When I was a young adult I managed to adjust very quickly. More recently, I am just getting on the right time near the end of a two-week trip, in time to experience jet lag back home.

The Cleveland Clinic mentions bright light therapy as one treatment. It is easiest to make sense of the Circadian rhythms as driven by light and dark. Over the years I’ve experimented with light for myself and my wife. She needed blackout blinds to get her rest in the morning after daylight. I needed a night light of some kind so that I did not fall when I got up in the middle of the night.

Sleep aids? Not for me. A well meaning ICU nurse gave me one when I was going through my second night without sleep (heart attack, mentioned above). You know about the side effects some people experience? Wooooeeee! I thought I had been kidnapped and taken to a vacant Brazilian apartment building by drug dealers. I won’t watch that HBO series again. Oh she tried patiently to talk me down, but when she insisted we were in Canada I invoked the relevant article of the Charter of Rights and Freedoms. I could not be detained, I said firmly and authoritatively, unless I was a danger to myself or others. She was not impressed. She noted that someone who is proposing to rip the IVs out of his arm and walk out into the snow wearing only a hospital gown actually IS a danger to himself. “Sit down Paul, or I’m calling a Code White. Don’t make me do it, because I will. Paul? Paul! Oh, Code white!” And a roomful of people showed up, too many for this delusional patient to fight his way past, a quick shot in the arm, and a whole lot of embarrassment on my part the next morning. Of course the story went all around the hospital. When I was transferred out of the ICU I heard one nurse say to another, “Did you hear about the Code White in the ICU? Big guy, talked like a lawyer.”

No sleep aids for me, thank you. I know, one of you is going to tell me about natural remedies, like melatonin. It is true that melatonin is in the body, and plays a role in sleep. But you can save your breath. It can shrink the gonads! What if I meet Ms. (or Emeritus Professor) Right and she sees something in me? You didn’t think about that, did you? I think my limit is camomile tea.

So I’m making this my year to crack it. Time to craft the resolution. Oh and it will be a public and published resolution, and that is supposed to be good! Something achievable and measurable. Here goes. I resolve to sleep better and longer this year, to get a better quality of rest. Achievable? I think so. Measurable? Certainly. Is the bar too high? No, I’m not saying I will be the sleep champion of the western world, just better. Is the bar high enough? Did you read the foregoing? This bar is high enough. And now, putting the resolution in motion.

Night 1: Staying up late enough, check. Tired at night? Check. I decided on a small snack, some fruit and cottage cheese. Mattress and pillow, check, check. Window open a crack? Check. One cat leaning up against me as usual? Check. You know that makes me think about the self-hypnosis question. I manage to stay still while sleeping, enough that my cat not only survives but is not disturbed by my moving. So when I have a compelling reason I manage that. How do I do it? I know it is essential, so I just do it. Could I extend that to sleeping longer? A question to be pondered. Cracking the sleep issue is a process. I certainly won’t get it all right the first night.

First waking, rats—it’s just after midnight. Quick trip to the bathroom, settle on my other side, flip the pillow over for some cool. Thank God that worked, I fell back asleep in a couple of minutes.

Second waking just past 5 a.m. I count that as success. I’ve had discussions about that with other men in my bereavement walking group. We all agreed that if we could sleep until 5 it was a successful night’s sleep. Again this time, perhaps because I’m relaxed at having made it to 5, I get back to sleep relatively soon, and make it a few minutes after 6. Check, check, check!!!!

Day 1: Fed my cats, took my pills, then Breakfast, made it myself, good ingredients, on track. Conduct a morning ceremony (I’m a cleric). Taught a piano lesson. It’s Saturday. There’s a challenging Crossword Puzzle, and the gray matter is working for me. It’s certainly worth pursuing this sleep adventure.

Night 2: First waking 3 a.m. Back to bed like a shot. Success. Second waking 5:45. Two nights in a row—that’s better than usual. Day 2, various errands, and revising this story, taking sharp edges off it. Now that I’m sleeping better I can afford to sound more mellow. Watched some of The Hobbit. I think the music in LOTR was better. Sorry Mr. Shore, I’m still a fan, but I have to say that. Video off at nine, no more looking at my phone after nine thirty. I read that as a suggestion, thought I would try it. Thought about nothing in particular after nine thirty. Found that comparatively easy.

I forgot to mention—the news. I used to be a news hound, devouring all the news I could get. But most of it is upsetting, and I suspect it was a factor in disturbing my sleep, so I’ve stopped subjecting myself to television news or videos of any kind, and I cherry-pick my stories from newspapers or other sources online. ‘Virus variant on the rampage’? No thanks. That headline tells me enough. ‘Cool new telescope launched into space’? Yes please. ‘Murder, death and destruction’? No. No thanks. ‘Mama bear thanks fireman who rescued her cub’. I am there!

And in this maybe I am imitating my mother. Maybe her style of bad news avoidance suits my personality. Although a teacher, she was not a voracious consumer of news. Mainly she read a publication called Ideals Magazine. The title says it all. About once a week she picked up the local newspaper and read a bit. Within five minutes she would say, “That’s not right. That’s not right.” My father would ask what was not right. She would say something like. “They hurt that a horse. That’s not right.” Then she would fold up the newspaper, set it down, and leave the room.

When I was young I couldn’t see the sense in what she did. But now I do. My father stretched his ample form out on the carpeted floor, took the page with the “Funnies,” and propped a pillow under his head. He laughed a bit and fell asleep in minutes. Again, now that I am on the other side of youth, I appreciate their styles much more. I have nothing against the news industry, but I have to put my health first. Besides, these days one can’t avoid hearing the bad news, but I prefer to have a bit of distance between myself and it.

Last thought first thought? In one of his novels, Alexandre Dumas observed that in the well organized mind, the last thought on sleeping is always the first thought on waking. By no stretch of the imagination would I call my own mind organized, but I’ve decided to experiment with this technique anyway. I try to make my last thought a happy, stress-free one. Like what, for example, you ask? Well not my plan to confront the challenges to come. Something more serene, like a cat, or a beautiful musical phrase, or—why not? women. I think that women could make a good subject for stress-free sleep. I don’t mind making this stunning admission of weakness and puritanical laxity. What did you say? Well I’m not that kind of cleric, okay? After all, any Type Super A Plus personalities stopped reading quite a ways back, didn’t they? To put the matter simply, if that is my last thought before sleeping, and my first thought at first waking, I have a good incentive to go back to sleep, do you see?

What is this? Night 4? Told you my mind is not that organized. But that Meryl Streep, she’s quite a gal, don’t you think? All those great roles. Maybe my favorite is Bridges of Madison County. She and Clint… Bogie and Bacall… Well I see it is past ten o’clock. May we continue this conversation tomorrow? Thank you for understanding… Have a good rest… I certainly intend to.

Night 4 first waking a few minutes after midnight. Oh I think I can get back to sleep, but wasn’t I supposed to be thinking a thought—what was that? Oh, that’s right, that technique is assured for those with organized minds. Luckily, I fell asleep anyway.

Night 4 second waking 4:47. Well that’s almost 5. Not officially a successful night’s sleep, but certainly not a failure. I’m going to call that a draw. It’s still dark, if these Circadian rhythms have to do with daylight, why am I awake so early? Why am I awake, Cleveland Clinic? Still, this project is off to a good start. A long journey starts with a single step, so I am on way. I have lots of techniques to perfect. To date I make it three wins and one draw. Pretty good. Maybe I’ll end with my favourite line of a poem by Robert Frost, his “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening.” I have “Miles to go before I sleep.” I wish you all a good rest and sweet dreams. I am working on it.