The Great Sleep Experiment II

Day before yesterday I bought Puredoxyk's book on sleep. The book itself, called Ubersleep, is available on Lulu. It's $7.95 for an electronic download. I got it and swallowed it in two great gulps, finishing around 2AM.

After I bought the book I got a nice (if automated) thank you from PD herself, and went to her blog to read a bit more about her. I like her. She lives in Boston, and she tells a whole lot more about herself here. Her posts about polyphasic sleep are very interesting, and so are her others.

But back to the book.

PD  sets expectations about converting to the Uberman schedule (the most demanding--6 x 20 minute naps for a total of two hours sleep a night (no! a 24 hour period.) and the less demanding Everyman schedule (one three hour core nap, and three more 20's for a total of four hours.) The idea of getting by on just two hours sleep a night is exciting! 

In Chapter 3 she asks these questions to the wanna-be polyphasic sleeper:

1. Why do you want it. Are you kidding me? So much to do! So little time! This will increase my productive time by a lot. It's not just the difference between--say eight hours sleep to two, or four. In the best case that's six hours added to the previous sixteen hour day, significant but not a lot more. But given that most of those sixteen are overhead--eating, dressing, undressing, writing emails and reading them, doing standard work-like things, I'm not getting four or six added to sixteen but rather four or six mine! all mine! hours to the few mine! all mine!! hours I have left after all the shit is shoveled away.

And anyway, what do percentages mean, anyway? Other than by this method, the richest person in the world can't buy a 25th hour for a million dollars. Or a billion. Therefore the marginal value of an hour is -- what? Something like infinity?

2. Do you have a reason other than wanting to try it out? Isn't the above reason enough?

3. Does self-discipline come naturally to you? No. That's a strike against me. I know. But I am learning how to overcome that. One is self-talk from REBT. The other is just deliberate practice, as in this post from ubersleeper Steve Pavlina.

4. How are you with physical discomfort? Pretty good, except for my physical reaction to tiredness -- which I experience as pain, pain, more pain. This can blow the whole thing.

5. How are you with mental discomfort? Pretty good, except for the caveat above.

6. How are you with people thinking your a weird? I'm sorry. Should I give a fuck?

7. How much do you need company? In the past I've really wanted it for some things. I've hated to do things alone. But I'm past that. I'm quite happy with just myself, thank you.

8. Are you punctual? Not very. But I can mitigate.

Contraindications

1. Do people depend on you? No, but my wife likes to see me once in a while, and likes the idea of our sleeping in the same bed. And isn't thrilled that I might disappear every 4 hours, even for twenty minutes. Of course she's learned put up with a lot worse shit from me, and has learned to deal with my current, irregular (she would say random) sleep habits, so I guess that will work. 

2. Do people boss you? See (1). :)

3. Do you like to party? Not particularly.

4. Are you on a very strict diet. Nope.

5. Are you ill? Not that I know of. Am I?

6. Are you uninterruptable? Not especially.

7. Are you crazy busy..enough? Oh, yes. And getting crazier, and busier.

8. Are you loud? Sometimes I like to be, but I never have to be.

So: I conclude that I am not unqualified, but I do have some work to. Particularly I have to deal with the whole "sleepy=torture" thing.

I started the attack a bit ago, journaling some of my perceptions and feelings. When I'm in that place I'm aware of two things: me, and the body. They are separate. I am not tired. I am sitting there (or standing there) right in back of my eyes, commanding the rest of myself (the body, at least) to stay awake. Then there's the body, with its eyes beginning to close. And then there's "something else." It's the thing that is trying to close those eyes, despite my intense desire to keep them open. It's the part that squeezes some of my brain to peanut size, despite my intense desire to remain cognitively functional.

It's war! And it's a war that I nearly always lose. I've developed some coping strategies, which generally play out when we drive from BOS to home late at night.  Before the feeling starts to take hold I act preemptively, and if it starts to come on strongly I treat it more vigorously with one or more of the following techniques

• Cooling my body. I turn on the air conditioner--even in the winter. B is in a sweater and a jacket. I've taken off my shirt and sometimes my undershirt. And so we ride. A nice cold can of coke applied gently to the back of the neck, or the space between the shoulder blades (which seems to be the point of emanation of the drugged and tired feeling works)
• Stuffing my face.  Eating or drinking works, some things better than others. I've used carrot sticks, pepitas, sunflower seeds, and my current (though highly fattening) favorite: M&Ms which give me both the swallowing experience and the added sugar high.
• Running around. However this requires stopping the car, and if I relied on that alone it could slow a long trip substantially.
• And finally, if all else fails, surrender. I take a short nap. It works, but I do feel I'm giving in to the enemy, and I don't like it one bit.

So what can I do about it? Well, first just this processing seems to move the problem around. Second, I could tempt fate. My current beliefs about the need for sleep are:

• I can't stand it.
• It's killing me.
• It's horrible!
• It's the worst feeling in the world!
• I'm weak, despicable, etc. for not being able to handle it.
• I'm going to lose again. Variant: I'll fight it, but I'm going to lose.

These are classic Ellisian Irrational Beliefs. The fact is:

• I have stood it.
• It's never killed me. It's never even come close.
• It's unpleasant, but hardly horrible.
• There are feelings far worse--for example dying of a painful, inoperable cancer.
• I'm a normal human being, dealing with a normal human feeling.
• It's not a win/lose contest; it's a matter of developing new approaches, and increasing my skills.

Ahh! That feels better.

So I'll be working on the sleep thing for a bit. And getting myself back on a reasonable sleep schedule. And maybe figuring out how to bottle and unbottle the sleepy feeling.