- Where the sleepless story begins — with a cup of cold tea at 1 a.m.
- Where sleeplessness turns into awareness — and small revolutions begin
- What’s keeping us awake — and who profits from our exhaustion?
- Reclaiming Rest, Reclaiming Ourselves — What happens when we say yes to sleep
Where the sleepless story begins — with a cup of cold tea at 1 a.m.
The house is quiet, finally. The dishes are done, the homework checked, the bento boxes rinsed. The kids are asleep, my husband is snoring, and I’m sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of tea that’s gone cold — again.
It’s 1:17 a.m.
And I haven’t even washed my face yet.
If you’re a woman living in Japan — especially a mom — you probably know this feeling too well. These late-night hours feel like the only moments we truly own. When the world stops demanding things from us. When no one needs a snack, a stamp, or an answer.
And so we trade sleep for solitude.
We delay rest in exchange for a little bit of ourselves.
🌙 The Silent Epidemic
Japan has one of the lowest sleep durations among developed nations — and women are the most sleep-deprived group of all.
According to the Ministry of Health, Labor, and Welfare (厚生労働省), nearly 60% of Japanese women in their 30s and 40s report getting fewer than 6 hours of sleep per night.
The global average? Closer to 7.5.
Why?
Because we’re not just workers.
We’re caregivers. Wives. Daughters. Volunteers.
And in between all those roles, we are told — silently but constantly — that our own needs come last.
📌 My Life in Sleep Debt
For years, I thought this was normal.
My friends joked about it. “I sleep when I’m dead,” one laughed. Another said, “I get my me-time after 10 p.m., even if it kills me.” We’d swap caffeine recommendations and dark-circle concealers like war stories.
But slowly, I started to notice things:
- I snapped at my children more easily.
- I couldn’t focus at work.
- I’d forget appointments, names, entire conversations.
- My body ached in ways I couldn’t explain.
- My creativity — once my lifeline — had dried up.
I was functioning. But I wasn’t living.
Sleep had become a luxury — like spa days or vacations — not a biological necessity.
🧠 Why Sleep is a Feminist Issue
Sleep isn’t just about health.
It’s about power.
Think about it: in any society, the people who control time and rest are the ones who control everything else. When women lose sleep to unpaid labor, emotional caregiving, and endless expectations, they lose mental space, decision-making clarity, and long-term health.
And worse — the world doesn’t notice. It just expects them to keep going.
In her book Why We Can’t Sleep, author Ada Calhoun describes middle-aged women as “the insomniacs holding up the sky.” That line hit me hard. Because it’s not just poetic — it’s true.
Here in Japan, we don’t complain much. We’re taught not to.
But that silence doesn’t mean we’re okay.
🔎 What the Research Shows
Here are a few sobering facts:
- A 2022 NHK調査 showed that 48% of Japanese women reported waking up multiple times a night due to anxiety or stress.
- The National Institute of Mental Health (Japan) links chronic sleep deprivation to increasing rates of depression and autoimmune conditions in women aged 35–50.
- The Japan Society of Sleep Research found that sleep-deprived women are 3x more likely to experience hormonal imbalance and metabolic syndrome.
- In a Tokyo University study, mothers of young children were found to sleep 90 minutes less than their male partners on average — even in dual-income households.
In other words, this isn’t personal weakness.
It’s structural.
📖 A Cultural Backdrop: The Good Wife, Wise Mother
To understand this phenomenon, we have to look at the broader narrative.
The idea of the “良妻賢母” (ryōsai kenbo) — the good wife, wise mother — still lingers in Japan’s collective consciousness. Even as more women work full-time jobs and raise children without extended family support, the pressure to “do it all gracefully” persists.
Sleep? That’s for people who don’t care enough.
Who aren’t doing enough.
Who aren’t strong enough.
But here’s the truth: we’re exhausted not because we’re weak, but because we’ve been strong for too long.
🌌 The Night as Resistance
And so, many women — myself included — stay up late. Not because we want to, but because it feels like the only time we can be.
No performance.
No multitasking.
Just…being.
But what if we flipped the script?
What if sleep itself was resistance?
What if closing our eyes became the boldest way we reclaimed space, sanity, and sovereignty in a world that expects us to give until we’re empty?
Where sleeplessness turns into awareness — and small revolutions begin
It didn’t happen overnight.
In fact, for a while, I doubled down — convinced that I could out-schedule the exhaustion. I bought productivity planners, downloaded sleep tracking apps, took magnesium pills before bed. I tried meditation, melatonin, and muscle-relaxing bath salts.
None of it worked.
Because what I needed wasn’t a tool.
I needed permission.
Permission to rest — not as a reward, but as a right.
🌒 My Turning Point: When My Body Said “No”
One winter morning, I overslept and missed my son’s PTA meeting. I rushed out the door with wet hair, forgot my phone, and had a dizzy spell on the train. A kind old man offered me a seat and said gently, “Daijōbu desu ka?”
And I burst into tears.
I was embarrassed. Ashamed. And most of all — tired of being tired.
That night, for the first time in years, I went to bed at 9:30.
No emails.
No Netflix.
No guilt.
Just sleep.
I woke up the next morning and didn’t feel “fixed” — but I felt possible.
And that was enough to try again the next night.
🔁 Redefining “Productivity”
We’re taught that productivity means crossing off tasks, staying ahead, always being on. But what if being productive also meant healing?
What if a well-rested woman was more dangerous to the system — because she could think clearly, choose consciously, and say no with full strength?
I started asking myself:
- Who benefits when I stay tired?
- What am I afraid will happen if I sleep more?
- Can I trust that the world will keep turning while I rest?
These were not easy questions. But asking them helped me realize that rest wasn’t selfish — it was strategic.
🧵 Stories from the Midnight Sisterhood
As I opened up about my sleep struggles, more women around me started to share their own.
🛏️ Emi, a working mom in Fukuoka, said:
“My children sleep from 9, but I stay up until 2. That’s when I can write. It’s the only time I’m me — not someone’s wife, not someone’s mother. Just Emi.”
💼 Nao, a freelance designer in Osaka, told me:
“I built my career on all-nighters. But now, at 40, I wake up every day with foggy thoughts and aching joints. I’m learning to rest and it feels like… rebellion.”
📚 Yuki, a 60-year-old retired teacher from Sendai, reflected:
“I didn’t rest for 30 years. I regret that. Not because I worked too much — but because I lived too little.”
Their words hit me harder than any medical report ever could.
We weren’t just tired. We were hungry for silence, softness, and space — and we were beginning to say it out loud.
🕯️ Nighttime as Sacred
I began to treat my evenings differently. Not as leftover time, but as sacred space.
Here’s what that looked like:
- I lit a candle before bed — a ritual to remind myself that I mattered.
- I put my phone in another room. If someone needed me at midnight, they could wait.
- I started reading poetry instead of parenting articles.
- I told my family, “Mom needs to sleep so she can be her best self.”
At first, it felt strange. Even a bit indulgent. But slowly, it became normal. And then — necessary.
📉 What I Gained by Doing Less
I don’t sleep eight hours every night. I’m still a mom in Japan — with early mornings, PTA shifts, and family chaos. But I’ve reclaimed at least part of the night as mine.
Since prioritizing rest:
- I yell less.
- I forget fewer things.
- I’ve had fewer headaches.
- I feel less resentful — not just toward my family, but toward myself.
- My dreams — literal and figurative — have started to return.
When I sleep, I don’t just recover.
I remember who I am.
📣 When Rest Becomes Protest
In a culture that praises sacrifice, rest is radical.
When women start to opt out of exhaustion, they also opt into power.
I now believe rest is not just self-care. It’s social change.
Because:
- A rested woman asks harder questions.
- A rested woman notices injustice.
- A rested woman has the energy to imagine a different future — and maybe even fight for it.
And that’s what Japan — and the world — desperately needs.
What’s keeping us awake — and who profits from our exhaustion?
It would be comforting to believe that sleep is just a matter of personal choice.
But in Japan — and especially for women — sleep is political.
Behind every yawning mother on a Tokyo train or bleary-eyed salarywoman at her desk lies a tangle of cultural, economic, and societal pressures that make true rest feel impossible — even dangerous.
Let’s unravel the knot.
🏢 1. The Myth of Gaman: Endurance as Virtue
From a young age, Japanese girls are taught the value of gaman — to endure without complaint. Smile through the pain. Do your best. Don’t be a burden.
This mindset is celebrated everywhere:
- In school: perfect attendance is prized, even when sick.
- In work: taking paid leave is seen as selfish.
- In home life: a “good” wife quietly manages it all.
Over time, self-sacrifice becomes a badge of honor — and rest becomes a sign of weakness.
This is especially intense for mothers. A well-rested mom can be perceived as lazy, while a sleep-deprived, anxious, overextended mom is somehow seen as more committed.
We’ve normalized exhaustion to the point where being well-rested is suspect.
🕰️ 2. The Double Shift (and the Invisible Third)
Japanese women may work fewer official hours than men — but they work more overall when unpaid labor is included.
According to a 2022 OECD study:
- Japanese women spend 5x more time on housework and childcare than men.
- Even full-time working moms are expected to lead PTA, prepare daily bentos, and care for aging parents.
And then comes the “third shift” — the emotional labor of remembering, managing, anticipating, and constantly smoothing over everyone else’s needs.
By the time she finally collapses into bed — it’s not always sleep that comes.
It’s resentment, mental noise, and deep depletion.
💼 3. Workplace Culture: Always Be On
Even for those without children, Japan’s infamous work culture erodes sleep. While some reforms have been introduced (like “Premium Fridays”), many women still face:
- Long commutes and inflexible hours.
- Pressure to attend after-work nomikais.
- Unspoken expectations to be available at all times — even on LINE.
Women who ask for more flexible schedules are often sidelined, paid less, or treated as “less serious.” And so many push themselves to keep up, stay visible, stay needed — sacrificing sleep in the process.
Sleep becomes a luxury only for those who can afford to appear “less devoted.”
🧠 4. Anxiety and the Cost of “Having It All”
Even when the day is over, the mind doesn’t rest.
For many Japanese women, especially in urban areas, nighttime is the only time to think — about bills, school entrance exams, aging parents, climate anxiety, a career going nowhere, or simply the question:
Is this all there is?
Add to that the pressure of perfection — being slim, organized, well-dressed, cheerful, productive — and the result is a brain that just. won’t. turn. off.
We’re exhausted, yet overstimulated.
So we scroll.
We snack.
We binge dramas until 2 a.m.
And then wake up at 6, bleary and blaming ourselves.
📉 Who Benefits From Women’s Fatigue?
Let’s ask an uncomfortable question:
Who profits when women don’t sleep?
- Corporations benefit from employees who don’t use paid leave.
- Families often rely on women’s unpaid, invisible labor.
- Consumer industries sell caffeine, skincare, productivity tools, and “treats” to tired women.
- Even healthcare institutions often downplay women’s fatigue — labeling it as stress, age, or “hormones.”
A rested, clear-thinking woman might:
- Say no.
- Ask for a raise.
- Leave a bad marriage.
- Start a movement.
- Vote differently.
That’s not convenient for a system built on her silence.
📺 Cultural Norms Reinforce the Problem
From manga to morning talk shows, tired women are everywhere — but rarely resting. They’re shown:
- Power-napping in a train.
- Cooking with a toddler on their back.
- Working while sick, smiling bravely.
These images quietly tell us:
“Look, she can do it all. Why can’t you?”
And when a woman chooses rest? She’s called:
- Spoiled
- Lazy
- Americanized
- “甘えてる” (amaeteru — overly dependent or indulgent)
No wonder sleep becomes a guilty act.
🔄 The Loop We Can’t Escape (Until We Do)
So we keep pushing.
Because we think everyone else is tired too, and if we just hold on a little longer, someday we’ll earn the rest we crave.
But here’s the truth:
There is no finish line.
No one is coming to hand us a golden sleep ticket.
No one will magically clear the calendar.
No one will praise us for slowing down — until we start praising it ourselves.
Rest will not be given to women.
It must be taken.
Together.
Reclaiming Rest, Reclaiming Ourselves — What happens when we say yes to sleep
After peeling back the layers of culture, expectation, and exhaustion, the final question remains:
What does it look like to reclaim sleep?
To treat it not as a guilty indulgence, but as an essential act of self-respect?
To step off the treadmill and breathe — deeply and fully — in a world that’s always moving?
🌅 The First Night of Rest
For me, it started simply.
No dramatic life change. No overnight transformation.
Just a quiet decision to honor my body’s call.
I chose to go to bed earlier, even if my to-do list wasn’t done.
I let go of the idea that productivity equals worth.
I embraced the possibility that rest was a foundation, not a luxury.
That night, I slept.
And I dreamed again.
🌙 Rebuilding the Relationship with Sleep
Sleep stopped being a thief of time and became a gift —
A space where my mind could wander freely, heal, and grow.
Some nights were perfect. Others, restless.
But the pressure lifted.
I began to understand that sleep is a practice, not a pass/fail test.
🛌 Community and Support
No woman is an island.
Reclaiming rest happens best when supported.
I connected with other women — online and offline — who shared their own struggles and victories.
We swapped tips on winding down, talked openly about anxiety and insomnia, and reminded each other:
You are not alone.
Groups like Sleep Sisterhood Japan and community meetups for moms prioritizing rest are growing quietly but steadily.
🌸 The Ripple Effect
When women start to prioritize sleep and rest, it changes more than just their nights.
It affects:
- How we show up for our families, with more patience and joy.
- How we engage at work, with clearer minds and stronger boundaries.
- How we envision our futures, with hope and energy to pursue dreams once shelved.
Rest becomes a form of resistance — a refusal to be consumed.
✨ The Dream Reclaimed
I once believed that dreams had to be big and loud — career success, perfect family, flawless appearance.
But sleep taught me otherwise.
Dreams can be quiet.
Dreams can be gentle.
Dreams can be as simple as waking up rested and feeling ready for a new day.
When I reclaimed my sleep, I reclaimed my dreams — my right to just be.
🔄 What You Can Do Tomorrow Night
If you want to start reclaiming your sleep, here are a few gentle steps:
- Create a bedtime ritual: dim lights, soothing music, herbal tea.
- Turn off screens at least 30 minutes before bed.
- Give yourself permission to pause — no matter what your to-do list says.
- Talk to someone about your struggles; you don’t have to carry it alone.
- Celebrate small wins — like falling asleep without anxiety.
Remember, this is a journey — not a race.
💌 A Final Thought
To all the women reading this, exhausted but hopeful:
Your sleep matters.
Your rest matters.
Your dreams — however small or big — matter.
In a culture that often asks us to give everything, choosing sleep is a revolutionary act of love — for yourself and the world you live in.
So tonight, as you lay your head down, know this:
You are enough.
You deserve to rest.
And when you do, you change everything.
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