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For some people, sleeping and waking at odd hours makes no difference. But I learned by experience that I need to go to bed and wake up at the same hours every day of the week all year round … no matter what wonderful opportunity I would have to forego.

Some of us are tortoises. And that’s really all right. Image by skeeze from Pixabay

In my 30s, I was offered the side hustle of my dreams: teaching English writing skills in a college program for immigrant pastors. The students were highly motivated adults who wanted to earn credentials required for success in a new land. The program was on the campus of a Christian liberal arts college near my home.

And yet … I worked more than full-time at a demanding job. Preparation for the evening classes would be significant. More significant to me, I would get home from teaching at about 10 pm. By the time I wound down, I could expect to be asleep by 11:30 or so. And being awake that late two nights a week would throw my sleep cycle off dramatically.

Regular Sleep Manages My Bipolar

For some people, sleeping and waking at odd hours makes no difference. But I had already learned by experience that I need to go to bed and wake up at the same hours every day of the week all year round.

Until I learned that rule, I created “mood cycles” of high energy and desperate crashes every week: Monday and Tuesday, I was energetic and active until 11:30 at night; Wednesday I was in bed at 10; Thursday and Friday, I dragged through the day’s responsibilities; on the weekend I crashed to start the cycle all over on Monday.

I’d already changed careers once to gain a consistent schedule, leaving daily newspaper reporting for the much less prestigious copy desk. Now I was working in marketing for a technology consultant. The job was not quite as regular as the copy desk, but still I started at maybe 8 or 8:30 in the morning and left at 5 or 6 or sometimes 7. I got home for bedtime. And that worked.

But here stood Chris, a young denominational leader, inviting me to take on this exciting opportunity. After a few days consideration, I met him to say no.

Why? he wanted to know.

I had too many other things on my plate, I told him.

I Really DO Need That Much Sleep

And this 30-something rising star, who pastored a church and was father of four and coordinating services to his denomination’s immigrant leaders, looked me in the eye and said:

“You know, you can do more than you think you can, Carlene.”

And I just reiterated my regrets.

How would I tell him that I knew precisely how much I could do? Or, rather, precisely the hours within which I could do it? We were still in the years when Americans were challenging the “dogma” of required hours of sleep. The person who slept only four hours a night was envied, even idolized. We hadn’t quite yet hit the time when young professionals were snagging prescriptions for “ADD” stimulants so they could “retain focus” on attaining billable hours through most of the day and night. But we refused to believe that our bodies were designed with built-in limits, and that to push beyond these was at the risk of our own lives.

It’s quite probable that I can do more than I think I can. At age 61, I’m still learning new skills, so it’s entirely likely that next year I will be able to do things that this year I didn’t imagine possible.

But I’m also quite certain that I can’t fit more hours of production into my day than my body allows. God has given me this body, and my doctor has given me this bipolar diagnosis, which places their own specific boundaries on my activities.

So even if I wish I’d taken the chance to teach those classes, I’m glad I went to bed instead. God says that God supplies all my needs (Phil. 4:19). Who would I be to refuse God’s supply of rest?