I’m not being hyperbolic when I say that sleep is the most important thing in my life. In some ways, it’s more precious to me than my marriage, my child, or my job–because if I don’t get enough sleep, I cannot properly function as a wife, a mother, or a writer.
Sleep science is still in its infancy, but many researchers believe that the amount of sleep that each person needs varies widely and is dictated by their genes. For me, getting less than eight hours a night transforms me from my usual optimistic, affectionate self into miserable wreck of a human being. I get migraines, stress-eat pints of chocolate ice-cream for breakfast, and burst into tears while listening to sad news items on NPR. My brain clouds over, making it hard for me to write or perform analytical tasks. In a sleep-deprived state, I once had an entire 5-minute conversation with my husband before realizing I hadn’t pushed the “call” button on my phone.