Abandoning Sleep?

The importance of sleep, from just about every angle imaginable, is obvious, and something that I don’t take lightly. Investing time into sleep quality, quantity, and consistency is therefore a focus I’ve had all year.

But how quickly can that be thrown to one side by poor sleep? Can you recover from prolonged disjointed sleep? Is it worth sacrificing sometimes?

These are questions I struggle to grapple with. I find the “sleep when you’re dead” adage incredibly short-sighted, but does it pose some merit? When?

I strongly disagree with overlooking rest from a hustle culture, or productivity, standpoint. Almost always, great sleep is among the most productive and impactful activities you can possibly partake in, whatever your goals.

Yet, perhaps when you’re travelling in Vietnam with friends from across the world for two weeks—an incredibly rare trip—it is wholly justified. Maybe I’m just too uptight and should just let my hair down. Surely, that extra time spent together is worth it. I can recuperate all of those lost hours later, right?

With our schedule, maybe I don’t have a choice anyway. Tonight we’re catching a night bus from 8:30pm to 7:30am. For even the most unfazed, deepest sleepers, that surely dooms any prospect not falling behind the eight ball with respect to rest and recovery. Especially in Vietnam, where the cacophony of blaring horns on the road never seems to die out.

Shockingly, I stayed out until sunrise last night. Watching the twilight trickle through lanterns over the Hoi An river was a stunning sight for our walk home. For someone who cares very much about their circadian rhythm, jumping into bed only as dark turned to light felt very backwards.

Yes, it was difficult to convince myself to go out in the first place, but, all things considered, I came home bleared-eyed, but smiling. It was undoubtedly fun. Besides, I was still up at 9am anyway, and able to make an important call somewhat coherently. No harm done, right?

The questions here are open-ended. On paper, sacrificing sleep over and over again seems foolish. Nevertheless, it might be worthwhile in the moment. My sleep will be greatly disrupted all fortnight anyway. Should I fight against the tide, in opposition to those around me, or just succumb to that reality, going all-in to maximise each cherished moment, and night, together?

Both sides can be true simultaneously. I probably can’t “catch up” on the lost sleep, and it likely is a poor objective decision. Yet, it also matters very little in the grand scheme of things. If there was ever a time to simply not care all that much, it should be now. I need to remember that sometimes.