Diary of a Gen Z Student: A support group for insomniacs — we could meet up at 3am

Jane Cowan in the Shelbourne Hotel, Dublin Photograph: Moya Nolan

Some of my best thinking happens between the hours of 2am and 5am. 

I’ll open the blind to the window beside my bed and look at the inky sky, waiting for sleep to strike. If it’s a clear night, I’ll pretend to myself that I can point out the constellations.

Those are the hours where most of my brainstorming for this column takes place. 

It’s when I come up with ideas for college essays, find some time to read, plan out what I’ll do with myself once I have a university degree to my name.

They really are my most productive hours. 

And that seems fine until my alarm goes off at 6am and I’m expected to cosplay a fully functioning human.

You see, I’ve been a bit of an insomniac for many years.

Secondary school was when I really developed the skill. 

A little too much preaching from teachers about the importance of sleep for a growing brain was enough to send my nerdy 14-year-old self into a spiral. 

Being told I needed eight to 10 hours of sleep every night was like assigning me an extra homework task. I made it my job to get it done.

But, as every poor sleeper knows, putting any sort of pressure on the need for sleep, makes sleep an impossibility. 

I used to lie there, checking the time, calculating my sleep like a grade on a test.

“Okay, if I fall asleep in the next 15 minutes, I’ll get eight hours.” 

So, I’d just lie there, all tensed up, counting down the minutes in my head, wondering why I wasn’t falling asleep. And this would continue for hours every night. 

“I still have time to get in six hours… four hours… three hours.”

Eventually my jaded brain would slip into sleep, if I resisted checking the clock for more than 10 minutes.

It’s easy to become obsessed with your sleep schedule. Particularly easy if you err on the side of perfectionism. 

I was recently told that routine sleep deprivation is bad for my health! Increased risk of dementia, cancer, anxiety. You name it, sleep probably protects against it. 

As a bit of a hypochondriac as well as an insomniac, this was not helpful information to be given.

Now, while I’m calculating my sleep, I’ve got so many other concerns to occupy my mind. 

Concerns that are certainly not conducive to rest. And as if that wasn’t enough, I’m also a bit of a sensitive creature. 

Three nights ago, for instance, I managed to fall asleep pretty well. 

You know, just about an hour of existential dread, and then I was out for the count. But I had made the mistake of watching Squid Game on Netflix. 

I spent the night having nightmares about being forced to participate in Squid Games with my family.

Again, not great for the old melatonin production. But I did manage to fit in a few hours of reflection and dread. 

The next morning, I got up, banned myself from any Squid Game viewing, and made an extra-large coffee.

You may think that this sounds like a terrible habit to develop; you would be correct. You may even feel some pity for me; you would be having the reaction I am hoping to elicit. 

You may think I’m a big eejit and just need to relax; you would be showing your insomnia-free privilege.

I can assure you, the insanity that is oozing from this column is the fuel that keeps the insomniacs of the world going. I know there’s plenty of people in the same position as me. 

Unable to sleep through your brain’s prime anxiety hours. For those people, I am working on forming a support group. We can meet at 3am. 

Perhaps voice the worries that keep us awake. Give each other some inspiration, in case we’re lacking in material to keep us up at night.

This is probably my own doing. Because there’s nothing more satisfying to a brain prone to obsessive thinking than finding something good to obsess over. 

And by God, I’ve gotten some serious mileage out of my sleeplessness. 

So, when I wake up after a night of Squid Game nightmares or staring out of my bedroom window, I do the only logical thing: I keep the routine going. 

Nothing propels my brain into overdrive like a good Google search.

I’ll stay up to date on all of the health issues that await my exhausted body. 

The outlook isn’t great — something I’m sure to contemplate at around midnight tonight.

And the cycle continues. I am nothing if not reliable.