It’s 10:58 p.m. on a Wednesday night and all my assignments due the next day are done. Yawning, I look at the time on my computer screen, which is tinted yellow to block blue light said to interfere with sleep. I answer one final email and turn off my computer.
“Grades, social life and sleep. Pick two.” This is how college was jokingly described to me. But there’s definitely truth to the joke: sleep is often sacrificed when students are busy. All-nighters are both necessary evils and badges of honor, a testament to the “work hard, play hard” attitude used to describe Duke and its students. But for the almost 10 percent of college students with chronic insomnia, the work-play-sleep tradeoff complicates an already difficult relationship with sleep.
11:12 p.m. Pajamas on and teeth brushed, I set an alarm for 8 a.m. so I can go to the gym before my 10 a.m. class. I begin reading a book from the library.
Most college students suffer from acute insomnia at some point during their college career. Such bouts with insomnia can be triggered by anxiety over upcoming exams, sporting events or social stressors, and staying up late on weekends makes going to bed at more reasonable times during the week difficult. Acute insomnia develops into chronic insomnia when someone experiences trouble falling asleep—or falling back asleep after waking up—for three or more nights each week for at least one month. At that point, chronic insomnia can result in health problems, inefficiency at work and a reduction in a person’s quality of life.
11:27 p.m. I finish the chapter and put away the book. I insert my earplugs so I won’t hear my roommate enter the room later. I turn off the light and close my eyes.
My personal relationship with sleep has deteriorated since coming to college. After going out with friends on weekends, I am sometimes be awake until 5 or 6 a.m. because my brain is still wired from socializing. Despite getting ready for bed at 11 p.m. before early morning classes, I may not fall asleep until 3 a.m. or later. The next day I may try to nap, but I usually can’t fall asleep. After several nights with little sleep, I become so tired that I fall asleep immediately. I sleep well for another day or two, and for the moment I think I am cured of my insomnia for good… until the next sleepless night when the cycle begins again.
12:21 a.m. I check the time on my phone and I think about the hour I’ve just wasted lying in bed. I take a melatonin supplement hoping that will help me sleep.
The worst part about insomnia is feeling alone. When it’s 4 a.m. you don’t want to wake someone up to complain about your inability to sleep. In the quiet, it feels like the rest of the world is asleep except for you. You fear that you will never be able to sleep and that you will never know how it feels to be well rested. You worry about how tired you will feel later that day and the resulting unproductivity. You stress over whether you will have enough energy to work out or whether you can squeeze in an afternoon nap. You think about how much more successful you would be, if only you could sleep.
1:07 a.m. My roommate comes into the room and turns on a light. When she sees I’m still awake, she apologizes and asks if she woke me up. I tell her no, I’m having trouble falling asleep. I leave the bedroom to read in the living room.
My brother has no sleep problems, but he is not your typical college student. He maintains a regular sleep schedule, including weekends—in bed by ten, awake by seven. Deviation makes him grumpy. He dims his electronics to mimic the natural light fluctuations, and uses black out curtains, sleep masks and earplugs to create a soundproof, pitch-black chamber.
1:34 a.m. I go back to the bedroom. My roommate is asleep.
For those of us not ready to commit to a Spartan lifestyle like my brother, new technology offers a wide range of solutions to our sleep problems. A variety of mobile applications and fitness devices that track sleep patterns suggest that sleep can be hacked. Sleeping pills, herbal supplements, meditation CDs and white noise machines offer remedies to make us fall asleep faster. Personally, I shy away from these products because I want a natural and permanent solution.
2:21 a.m. I change my alarm to 9:30 a.m. I need to sleep more than I need to work out.
March 2-8 is Sleep Awareness Week, and I’m setting a personal goal to sleep better this semester. I plan to start keeping a sleep journal or download a sleep app so I can keep track of my sleep habits. Maybe I’ll try to keep a rigid sleep schedule like my brother and make sleep a higher priority. Whatever it takes, I’ll try, because I don’t want to be an insomniac forever. I just want to sleep.
3:07 a.m. My mind is finally quiet. At last, I sleep.
Rachel Anderson is a Trinity junior. Her column runs every other semester.
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