This isn’t one of those stories with a neat beginning and end. It’s still unfolding.
I met someone, who taught me the simple, beautiful art of sleeping early. And I don’t mean they lectured me about sleep hygiene or sent me articles. They just lived differently. They ended conversations latest at 10PM with an easy, “I’m going to bed now.” At first, it threw me off. I didn’t know people still did that. No guilt. No drawn-out explanations. Just rest, taken without apology.
At the time, I was trapped in a cycle so many of us know all too well. Late nights spent catching up on work, replying to messages I’d ignored during the day, and falling into the bottomless scroll of social media. Sometimes it was stress that kept me up; other times it was anxiety disguised as productivity, the feeling that there was always something I hadn’t done, hadn’t fixed, hadn’t finished. And when I wasn’t battling thoughts, I was chasing escape: one more episode, one more video, one more article. My body was tired, but my mind refused to rest.
Sleep became an afterthought, a final surrender when everything else had failed. I told myself I could handle it. Coffee in the morning, adrenaline through the day, collapse at night. Rinse. Repeat. I convinced myself that those late hours were my time to catch up. But in reality, I wasn’t catching up on anything. I was just falling behind on sleep, on peace, on health.
And I did. I woke up tired. Not just physically, but emotionally. Foggy brain, heavy heart, short temper, zero motivation. My body was running, but my soul was crawling.
Then this friend came along, not loud, not forceful. Just consistent. Gentle. Rested. Calm. Present. Grounded. And I began to notice how different their energy was. They weren’t rushing through their days. They had room to breathe. That energy was magnetic. And I started to wonder what it might feel like to not always be in survival mode.
So I started to try it for myself. Slowly. I gave myself permission to close the laptop before 10. I muted notifications. I dimmed the lights earlier than usual. I tried to sleep before 11, then 10, and on a few magical nights, before 9:30. It’s not perfect. I still slip back into my old rhythms and sometimes I fight them harder than I’d like to admit. But something is shifting. I have began to understand that sleep is not just a physical need, but a form of care. A quiet declaration that I am allowed to rest.
I am beginning to realize how deeply sleep affects everything. Not sleeping enough clouds your mind, weakens your immune system, shortens your patience, and makes the world feel heavier. It becomes harder to connect, harder to think clearly, harder to be kind to others and to yourself. When we are tired, we lose the best parts of ourselves without even noticing.
I never expected this one small shift to make such a big difference. I certainly didn’t expect it to begin with something as simple as observing a friend honor their bedtime.
But now, even as I keep learning, I know this change is real. Because for the first time in a long while, rest doesn’t feel like a luxury or an afterthought. It feels like something I deserve.
And for that lesson, for the reminder that peace is possible and sleep is sacred. I will always be grateful to you, Dear Friend.