The 8-hour sleep myth: How I learned that everything I knew about sleep was wrong
I've always had a complicated relationship with sleep. From around my teenage years, waking up in the morning became a gruelling experience. My early school commutes meant I had to be up at 6am, usually stumbling around in the dark and shivering near the heating vent as I struggled to shake off my sleepiness. The thought of breakfast made my still-asleep stomach churn, and I'd rush out the door without eating. It wasn't until my fourth year at primary school that my mother noticed I'd rather take a nap in front of the TV after school, dozing until dinner was ready. The doctor could only say it was "a case of unexplained lethargy".
My maths GCSE physics started at 8:50am. I got a poor grade, feeling utterly drowsy and lethargic. I only began to enjoy learning again when the university allowed me to schedule my courses in the afternoons. My choice to pursue higher education was partly driven by my fear of returning to a dull, 9-to-5 routine with long hours and perpetual tiredness, which was a prospect I couldn't bear.
Menstrual fluctuations. I've always approached these periods of hormonal change with a deep sense of apprehension, consumed by anxiety over lost sleep and the disruption it brings to the next day. By my bedside, I've compiled an armoury of tactics to combat insomnia: subtly scented lavender pouches, soothing sleep cds, and even a cuddly toy that produces muffled ocean sounds. I've also stockpiled over-the-counter treatments - valerian, melatonin, Nytol - but these have led to "rebound insomnia" the moment I stop taking them.
The elusive Sleep Fairy proved difficult to track down.
I told the doctor about my struggles with sleep, feeling embarrassed that I was failing at something even babies and mice could master easily. When I asked for Ambien, she gave me a look that made me feel like a habitual drug user and lectured me on the risks of "prescription medications." Her suggestions that I treat my bedroom as a sleep sanctuary, only using it for rest, were of no use to someone living in a studio flat.
Conventional medical thinking had reached a dead end. How come I needed a bedroom solely for sleeping, when other mammals didn't need one, and neither did humans for most of history? Our ancestors slept in a chaotic environment, sharing space with a variety of wild creatures, living beings and sounding noises, and swinging temperatures. And they still managed to get some rest, come what may.
It appears they do things in a rather distinct manner.
The 8-Hour Sleep Myth
We have an array of aids to help us sleep, such as memory foam mattresses, sleep clinics, hotel pillow concierges, and other strategies. Despite this, we frequently express dissatisfaction with our sleep patterns.
The responsibility for contemporary sleep disorders is commonly attributed to Thomas Edison, whose electric light bulb transformed the night from a period of relaxation to one of uninterrupted work and activity. Advocates of the burgeoning industrial society further exacerbated the notion that sleep is a frivolous indulgence by placing greater emphasis on work over rest.
This has profoundly changed the way I think about sleep. It confirmed something the human body instinctively knew, even if the mind was struggling to grasp it.
It appears that in the 1990s, psychiatrist Thomas Wehr conducted an experiment. The participants were placed in darkness for 14 hours every day for a month. On establishing a regular sleep pattern, an unusual sleep cycle developed. They slept for four hours, woke for one or two hours, before drifting off again into a second four-hour sleep.
Historian Roger Ekirch of Virginia Tech would not have been surprised by this pattern. In 2001, he published a significant paper after 16 years of research, which brought to light something truly remarkable: that historically, humans hadn't always slept through the night without interruption. In fact, until relatively recent times, people slept in two distinct periods.
Similar to how an astrolabe can indicate a distant star, these records point to an initial period of sleep commencing roughly two hours after sunset, followed by a waking period of approximately one or two hours and then a second sleep.
This waking period, often referred to as the "watch," was a time when individuals engaged in various activities, including tending to their animals, saying their prayers and visiting their neighbours. Some people enjoyed a pipe, reflected on their dreams, or lounged in bed reading, socialising, or intimate relationships, which was reportedly even more fulfilling than our own modern bedtime experiences. A 16th-century medical guide specifically recommended intercourse after the first sleep as the most pleasurable option.
But these two sleeps were completely erased from memory by the early 20th century, becoming almost entirely forgotten.
He notes that before the 17th century, it would be unwise to be out at night, when shady characters and wrongdoers roamed the darkness. Only the wealthy had candles, and they didn't need or want to leave their homes, especially at night. Gradually, advancements in street lighting and other factors changed this, and eventually, staying in bed became seen as lazy, while being out at night became popular. The industrial revolution solidified this trend by the 19th century, with health experts advocating for a single, unbroken period of sleep.
We've been conditioned to believe that eight hours is the perfect amount of sleep. However, in many cases, our bodies have a different message. Erasing our collective memory of the good old days, anxiety about nighttime wakefulness has kept us up for far longer than necessary, possibly even making us more susceptible to stress. What used to provide us with deep relaxation at the end of a hard day's work at the very least had far more benefits for our well-being than the endless yoga sessions found in Manhattan.
After finding out this information, I went out in pursuit of the night's rest I had missed.
Past Life Regression
“Even a tiny spirit under deep rest
is putting in overtime and making a solid contribution
"time to make a change in our world.”
― Heraclitus,
Delve into the lives of our ancient forebears who lived in caves in southern France, examining the thriving scenes of life depicted in their remarkable wall paintings, and learn how our ancestors spent their evenings lost in reflection, romance and up to 12 hours of leisure, creating a unique sense of closeness and enchantment.
I'm a writer and editor who runs my own business from home, without family commitments, so I've been fortunate enough to adopt a new – some might say old-fashioned – approach to sleep over the past couple of weeks. I've been trying to switch my mindset, viewing the tiredness that tends to hit in the early evening as a welcome opportunity to rest, and holing up in bed as and when I feel like it. I'm attempting to see the periods of wakefulness that follow as a lovely time, untainted by the constant influx of emails and the cacophony of noise from outside my window.
As opposed to retiring to bed with a mind preoccupied with worries, I've tried to immerse myself completely, allowing my guilt over all the things I should be doing evaporate, and surrendering to being suspended in a serene limbo. I've found that switching off the lights about two hours after dark, I've come to view the evening as a time to relax, letting my mind meander, tinker, and slide into a mellow, contemplative state.
It would be an excellent choice, and from my own experience, reading it before sleep consistently brings about the most vivid mental imagery.
While asleep, we gradually slip back into a more basic mental state. We embark on a journey of psychological rediscovery. This is one reason Freud believed that dreams offer a direct path to the subconscious and drew inspiration from archaeologists excavating ancient history in Egypt, uncovering relics and forgotten recollections. Phantoms swirl around us when we settle to sleep. Our daytime personalities fade away, and we become beings whose patterns and instincts are more closely tied to the moon and the sea than to the demands of a schedule or technology.
As we gain a better understanding, we may come to see that prioritising sleep and rest is as crucial to our overall well-being as our diet or the treatments that restore our health. And if we learn to appreciate this time of quiet rejuvenation, we may discover that we are more capable during our waking hours.
NOW READ: What's behind our fatigue and why does getting enough sleep have such a significant impact on our lives?
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