It was December 26. A Sunday. That weird, quiet day after Christmas where nothing happens, and everyone sleeps in.
I awoke in a fog, having suffered through more absolutely wretched sleep. It was 1:13 PM – a third consecutive night of tossing and turning. Miserably, shamefully, I dragged myself downstairs – then back upstairs, where I’d left my phone. Then back downstairs, when I realized midway I’d forgotten to brush my teeth. Then back upstairs, then back downstairs – my head and back screaming at me all the while – and realized I’d forgotten my keys.
I sat down on the stairs. What was happening to me? It’d been years since I woke up that late. Usually, I’m up much earlier for work. And usually, I have my first cup of coffee within the first 10 minutes of…
Oh, right. I’m going through the first stages of withdrawal.
A long run, followed by one big cup of the good stuff, and I was feeling a little more like myself again. But since this occurred during my series on caffeine, I have to consider the implications. Perhaps, once again, I’ve been drinking too much coffee.
There really aren’t any significant adverse health effects associated with long-term caffeine use. Most clinicians agree that, on the whole, it’s a generally beneficial thing for those who use it. It’s one of the most familiar, well-studied drugs in existence. And the overdose threshold is ridiculously high – somewhere around the equivalent of 400 cups of coffee in 24 hours. So there’s a low potential for abuse. But there are plenty of minor issues associated with long-term high-dose caffeine use (digestive discomfort, TMJ pain, anxiety, to name a few), which all tend to compound and worsen over time. Not to mention, it absolutely forms a dependence – although withdrawal symptoms are typically mild and last no longer than a week. But the most dangerous and well-known side effect is, of course, sleep deprivation.
Here are some statistics on the subject: a recent annual poll by the American Sleep Association discovered that almost half of all Americans say they feel sleepy during the day three or more days of the week. And 35.2% of all adults in the US report sleeping less than 7 hours every week. When filtering out only working adults, 32.6% sleep only six or fewer hours a week – up from 28.4% in 2008.
That length of sleep deprivation produces impairment equivalent to a blood alcohol content of 0.05%. By the time you hit 24 hours, it’s 0.10% – the equivalent of three strong drinks, for most. Not to mention, the effects compound if one is both sleepy and drinking. And studies conducted by the University of Buffalo Research Institute on Addictions estimates that up to 15% of workers in the United States drink alcohol at least once during the workday.
That’s crazy! At any given time, a full third of the working population is so tired that they’re basically drunk. In the same survey, 1 of 25 adults surveyed reported falling asleep at the wheel in the last 30 days.
Why is this happening? Why, in a world where technology is supposed to be saving us time, are we left with so little for our most essential function? Why, in an economy where chemical stimulants are cheap and abundant, are we dragging ourselves along?
There is an unseen, undiscussed pandemic: persistent, global sleep deprivation.
I’m nodding off as I type this.
Maybe this time, I’ll take a nap instead of another cup.
