My husband Rich just sent me an article about how 6-8 hours of sleep a night is ideal in terms of life expectancy.
I beg to differ. My personal ideal is 9 1/2 hours, sometimes with a nap. And, if needed, I can sleep 12 hours at a pop. Actually, this is my superpower.
I’ve always slept a lot. My whole family of origin likes to sleep. And right now I’m the envy of my post menopausal cohort, many of whom are plagued by insomnia. So, spit spit against the evil eye…but I hope to continue sleeping. For several reasons:
1. Being awake isn’t all that thrilling. Donald Trump is president. I find my own personality annoying. What better break from it all (free, non-caloric, non-addictive) than sleep.
2. Sleep is creative. It picks up the tangled threads of care…reduces anxiety, refreshes, lowers pain, and can result in fabulous visions that help problem solving, art, and writing. I’ve actually SEEN two large fiction scenes recently when I was asleep. One became a long story and one the end of a novella.
3. I figure that at age almost 65 my life expectancy is fairly set. Disastrous events–medical or social–will shorten it. But not much can extend it. My mediocre if sincere diet and exercise regime isn’t likely to change. What ails me and my genetic inheritance are already pretty clear.
4. Besides, the study doesn’t show that sleep 6-8 hours a night INCREASES life expectancy. It just correlates with it.
5. Also, sleep just gets you through a bad time. Take the Reagan years. I had a baby, was a caretaker for a family member, overworked as a freelancer…and asleep. I really can’t remember much about Ronald Reagan at all.
Then again, I slept through a chunk of Obama, too.