A history of sleep and fatigue for me goes something like this: when I was very young, I struggled to fall asleep at night. It always took me an hour. But I used to get up early (6.00am) and read before school. When I got to secondary school, I wanted to sleep later, but now I had a long commute and had to leave early, so I think I still got up before 7.00am. As I got to my teens, getting up on weekends and holidays became harder, and I went to shul (synagogue) a lot less as a result, which I felt vaguely bad about, but I wasn’t so religious then. When I got to the sixth form, I had a period when my sleep became very disrupted and I used to go to bed fully dressed when I got home from school, sleep for a couple of hours, get up, do my homework, then get changed into pyjamas and go to bed again. This was the beginning of my first episode of depression/burnout/whatever it was. My first year at university I was mostly OK getting up early (even though I was humanities student and didn’t really need to), but once the depression set in in my second year, I started sleeping about fourteen hours a day, or at least staying in bed that long once I counted hours of insomnia and other hours after sleep too drained and depressed to get up. I also felt constantly tired. I’ve never really felt in control of my sleep since then; every day is a struggle to get up. Ideally, I’d prefer to sleep in late and work late at night to catch up, but the worlds of work and Jewish ritual (Morning Prayers) don’t like that. I’m lucky that J still lets me come into work a little late (usually between 9.15 and 9.30am). I’m not constantly tired any more, but I do tire easily from physical activity, work, socialising or just being around people. I’m still tired a lot of the time.
Even so, today I’ve been especially drained. I struggled to get up and get dressed. I helped Dad with the sukkah (the portable ‘home’ for the festival of Sukkot which starts on Monday evening), which was physically tiring and involved going up ladders, which I don’t like doing. We got through it, but I was even more drained afterwards.
I didn’t really manage to do anything else, not even my usual Tuesday job of cooking dinner for the family. I did about twenty minutes of Torah study, Skyped E and that was about it. I feel useless again. I feel that work has got on top of me (I make mistakes and get exhausted) and now Yom Tov (Jewish festivals) is getting on top of me too.
I did manage to do my pre-Yom Kippur COVID test, to check I’m OK to go to shul. I’m sure this isn’t the kind of purity Tanakh (the Hebrew Bible) had in mind. I worry about not doing the test right. It’s easy to get to worrying about it in the way I worry about Pesach kashering. It’s hard to see if I really swab my tonsils properly or do various other stages correctly. I wonder if I’m an unconscious plague carrier, spreading disease by not being able to follow simple instructions.
Anyone who likes science fiction who was born in the second half of the twentieth century is aware that the twenty-first century hasn’t turned out the way science fiction predicted. No nuclear holocaust, but also no unified world government, cities on the moon, flying cars, jetpacks or interstellar travel. We have super-smart computers, but they’re used to organise marketing data based on social media likes for the benefit of multinational corporations rather than running the planet (no, wait, they are running the planet by organising data). The idea that everyone would be doing basic biochemical tests in their home in the twenty-first century is the sort of thing that would turn up in these stories, but somehow it feels neither cutting-edge nor even hugely dystopian, it’s just another minor inconvenience that just we have to deal with and which no one is quite sure that they’re doing correctly. Frankly, 2001: A Space Odyssey was a lot more exciting than this.