When I wake up at 8:09 a.m. (one minute before my zero period class), the layout of my day is already decided. I’ll sit at the same desk through seemingly never-ending class periods, watch TV and finally brush my hair during my brief lunch break, and thankfully hit the red-and white hang-up button at 3:30 p.m. Next comes hours of club meetings, sports, and planning for the rest of the night. What follows is no surprise—I return to the same desk, and tackle the day’s mountain of assignments while reminiscing about the memories tied to the songs I have set on repeat in the back ground. This, of course, continues long into the night. After the homework, stressing, and note-taking, I usually see two possible options: go to sleep (arguably the healthier, smarter option), or take back some of the freedom I lost during the day, and do what I want—whether this is finally listening to music properly and tuning into the hidden background vocals, reorganizing my entire room, watching more TV, or simply thinking. Throughout my high school years, I have found myself consistently choosing the latter option, the only issue being this usually occurs well after two a.m., thus throwing a considerable wrench into my sleep schedule.
A few months ago, I stumbled upon the concept of “revenge bedtime procrastination,” a term that provided new clarity and understanding to my questionable routine, and one that many stressed-out adults and high school students alike can relate to. According to the Sleep Foundation, such procrastination “describes the decision to sacrifice sleep for leisure time that is driven by a daily schedule lacking in free time.” It is often the result of packed routines, lack of control, and a desire to get revenge on daytime hours. Existing in different forms, bedtime procrastination refers to delaying the physical act of getting into bed, whereas while-in-bed procrastination specifically refers to delaying sleep once in bed. To be considered bedtime procrasti nation, three conditions must be met: putting off going to sleep, the absence of a valid reason for staying up late, and an aware ness of the possible consequences.
The second factor struck a guilty chord when I read it. I vivid ly remember the first time I stayed up “late.” It was for freshman biology, and I sat at the kitchen table in the dark for hours, fill ing out in great detail an organizational sheet about cells, bonds, and forces. Homework is most certainly a valid reason for stay ing up much later than is considered healthy, but as students all around the world experienced, the first few months of the COVID-19 pandemic eliminated that excuse and brought with it a new loss of control. As I suddenly found myself with relatively limited homework in April and May of 2020, I no longer had a valid reason for staying up late enough to see the sunrise—it was simply something I wanted to do. This is where I believe the problem deepened, and a cycle developed that I can’t—and don’t necessarily want to—break out of.
While I struggle to stay awake during the day and curse myself for staying up so late the previous night, I continue to choose the same pattern again and again, as I have come to enjoy this rather unhealthy habit. In the middle of the night, nothing is expected of me: the 11:59 p.m. deadline has passed, and I have firmly decided I can’t stand to look at Times New Ro man 12-point font anymore, so I close my computer. In the dead of night, music sounds clearer, TV shows seem more emotional, and everything is far more peaceful. Cereal tastes better, books are more enjoyable, and thoughts have more clarity. In my eyes, this cycle has given me more than it has taken, offering me con trol and enjoyment, and if I have enough energy to stay awake, I’ll choose it over a few more hours of sleep every time.
However, as always, considerable drawbacks accompany sleep procrastination. I often find myself wondering if it’s worth it to feel like a zombie during the day after watching that one extra episode of Shameless the night before. This cycle is firmly in the top three of bad habits I’ve formed, but at least I have something to look forward to at the end of a fully-scheduled day—a designated time of rest and leisure waiting for me after I conquer the Canvas to-do list. While it is a pattern that would be in my best interest to break, and one with which I have a love-hate relationship, it ultimately helps maintain my balance between work and play.