How do chronically sleep-deprived workaholics function?

I’ve always been jealous of people who can operate on little to no sleep. People who live as if they have miniature nuclear power plants inside their chests. Your enterprising, multi-tasking Energizer Bunnies that just keep going and going.

Danielle Steel, the popular romance novelist, writes virtually non-stop, sleeping only for a few hours at a time. She hardly eats, too. I wrote about her insane work schedule a few years ago. The woman is a page-peddling Terminator.

Then there’s the Donald. I can’t believe the seemingly limitless energy Trump exhibits on the campaign trail. A three-hour conversation on a big podcast like The Joe Rogan Experience would exhaust me like a vampire at sunrise. He does that, then flies to a rally in Michigan and talks for another two hours. The guy is almost 80 years old.

Arnold Schwarzeneggar once scoffed at the idea that you need eight hours of sleep. You only need six according to him, which I suppose is all you can afford when you’re trying to be a seven-time Mr. Olympia, a Hollywood star, and the governor of California.

Are these people superpowered? Do they have Viltrumite DNA? Are they descendents of a race of gods that seeded this planet millions of years ago?

Or are they just using meth and they’re all secretly cranked out of their minds?

If I don’t get quality sleep I’m as useful as a two-legged stool. My mind turns into a beehive filled with wet sand. I become a cranky asshole yearning for sweet slumber between my silky sheets. I can power through the day, sure. But it’s a miserable slog. I’d rather have a cold than be sleep-deprived.

Maybe it’s genetic. Maybe it’s just will power. Or maybe it’s the brain’s ability to efficiently get quality sleep in a short amount of time.

Some people are able to lie down and go to sleep instantly. For me, sleep has always been a delicate balancing act. My brain is like a bratty teenaged diva. If everything doesn’t line up just perfectly you can just forget about it cooperating for a pleasant night’s sleep. Even when I do fall asleep I still wake up in the middle of the night and struggle to get back to bed. Sleep has always come in fits and starts for me. So much so that when I actually get a good night’s rest I feel like I won the Powerball.

Perhaps it’s too much screen time. Too much red light, or blue light, or any light. Maybe I need to get to bed earlier. I’m usually in bed by 9:45 pm and up at 5:30 am. I keep my room cool. The shades mainly keep it dark, but I suppose I could use thick curtains to block out the light totally. I’ve tried sleep shades and find they just bother my eyes.

Part of the reason I gave up drinking almost 8 years ago is because alcohol wrecks my sleep.

Lately, I’ve tried using sleep aids like ZzzQuil and it’s cheaper knock-offs. They kind of work, but I find they negatively affect my mood. Plus they make getting up harder as they take an hour or so to wear off after I wake up. I have to peel myself off the mattress when I’ve got a ZzzQuil hangover.

I’ve tried melatonin, but it wreaks havoc on my bowels.

I’ve tried to back engineer what I did the day before when I miraculously have a great night’s sleep. What did I eat? What time did I go to bed? Did I exercise? Did I read longer than usual? What? What??? It never matters. There’s no pattern.

A really bad night’s sleep is a living nightmare. It sucks. But it seems I’m cursed with never knowing the code to better Zzzzs.

I wouldn’t care if Freddy Krueger haunted my dreams if it meant I could be well rested the next day. I’ll take severe lacerations across my abdomen from finger knives over feeling like an exhausted meat puppet.

Here’s a fun fact: The brain supposedly “scrubs itself” while you sleep. Cerebrospinal fluid comes shooting up your brain stem like a pressure washer and squirts in-between your wrinkly lobes. This is supposed to wash out any gunk and keep your neurons well lubricated. So, when you get shitty sleep, you’re left with a dirty, unwashed, gunky brain, and neurons that look about as organized as rush hour traffic in downtown Manhattan.

I had three crappy night’s sleeps in a row until last night. This morning I might as well have awoken with an “S” on my chest. I feel great today. But what about tomorrow? Nobody wins the lottery everyday.

Well, I’m off to bed soon. Wish me luck.