The sun is piercing, its warmth searing my exhausted eyes. I stagger, begging my tired limbs to cooperate, one foot in front of the other. It’s a crisp, bluebird morning, spring breaking winter’s grasp, demonstrating her beauty. Her big debut, ushering in my favorite season, endowing my vulnerable heart with the peace that can only be captured in the early morning hours. I’ve got Audible narrating in my earphones, the story passively moving through my mind, my brain lacking the ability to seize the details of the story. My dog, Finn, trots happily beside me, contented at his lot, keen to explore the melted snow revealing all the previous winter’s markings left by his compatriots.
15 minutes on the clock. My watch says I’ve got 12 more. Thoughts swim through my foggy mind, rising and falling like waves, never fully surfacing, never allowing me to identify what they’re about or why they’re breaking like waves in my head. I blink against three hours of sleep after a night of wrestling the monster. My superstitious list was complete, my best intentions, best foot forward negotiated from the previous day, but still he came for me. The midnight shadows expelled his lurking form, allowed him to accompany me as I fought with myself, my bed, my mind amidst the pulsing.
Thoughts of the night ricochet in my head. I had surrendered to the exhaustion at 5 am, having explored my will to live and my strained sanity. The three hours were not rejuvenating. They were just enough to remind me what I was missing. They reminded me that most of the world has the opportunity to relinquish their exhaustion to an invigorating sleep, preparing them for the next day’s work.
It seemed ridiculously impractical when my coach, Dane, insisted I peel myself out of bed to imbibe the morning sun’s intoxicating rays. He explained it would help calibrate my boggled circadian rhythm. I couldn’t imagine thrusting one more thing into my harried, and necessarily brief, morning routine. I could hardly get out of bed in time to brush my hair and put on a semblance of makeup (my 17 year old self would be mortified) in time to dash to the office praying I’d be reasonably on time, let alone adding more to my morning rush. But I did it, knowing something had to change in order for something to change.
Months later, my body eagerly nudges me awake with anticipation, knowing I have the gift of enjoying the silence of the morning- the sun in my eyes, the world awakening from a dreamy sleep. I have Vital Side, my brain retraining course, thrumming in my earphones. I have a skip in my step, an enthusiasm for my morning that I never thought I’d regain. My morning walks are nonnegotiable, they are my launch pad for a productive, prolific day. I deserve this reward, it was hard earned, and is still a bit precarious, as the monster still has pull, but his power has been diminished. Quelled by my discipline to compel myself out of bed day after day, even when it felt impossible.
Our circadian rhythm is part of our body’s internal clock, responsible for numerous processes including digestive, endocrine, and probably the most well known being our sleep-wake cycle. In our modern world, we have the miracle of light 24 hours a day- looking at you, night owls, burning that midnight oil pushing through your doom scroll. The power we wield with our access to light is just that – power. Understanding the way our body responds to light and dark and how that regulates our body’s responses is key to developing meaningful boundaries around demands that vie for the chance to lead us away from restful sleep.
When our eyes absorb light, our body receives signals telling it it’s time to be active, alert, have energy. As the evening sets in and the brightness dims outside, our environment is supposed to indicate that sleep is growing near. The dark night communicates that our bodies need to start producing melatonin, a hormone that helps us fall and stay asleep. The light-dark sequence is not the only circadian disrupter but serves as a prominent issue as we all work late into the evening, Netflix binge with abandon, and doom scroll longer.
A boundary that I rely on religiously is slipping on my decidedly unstylish (just ask my daughter) blue light glasses. My former self thought they were a laughable piece of junk someone had suckered an entire generation of office workers and sleep seekers to spend their hard-earned money on. Not so. They play a critical role in blocking the modern light that confuses our miraculous, responsive bodies as they try to determine when to make melatonin. My glasses make a timely reappearance each evening in the eight o’clock hour.
In a recent effort to help a close friend that has been battling sleep issues, I recommended she start carving out time to get sunlight in the morning. Her initial response was similar to mine, her laughing at my audacity to demand one more thing of her feverish morning. As the weeks have passed, she has experienced parallel results, making her morning walks an indispensable part of her morning routine.
Our circadian rhythms are sacred, a gift provided by our environment and our magical bodies to allow us the sleep we deserve. In future posts, we will discuss further the other disruptors that can disorient our rhythm. I now guard my rhythm with a devout fervor, knowing that my body is rooting for me, wants to bestow me the sleep I crave, and all I have to do is prioritize and comply with the rules nature intended.
Up Next: Is Stress the Culprit?
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