F*ck Sleeping – Let’s Define Rest Another Way

Sleepless in Spain: What the Camino Taught Me About Rest and Resilience

You’d think that going on holiday would be the perfect opportunity to get some much-needed rest, right? That’s what I thought, too. As a full-time working mother, I had visions of some deep, soul-nourishing rest during my journey to Spain to walk the Camino de Santiago with Lama Linda. But wow—was I ever mistaken.

I am deeply attached to my sleep. I love sleep. I love the delicious weight of my body sinking into the mattress, the cozy embrace of a fluffy duvet. I even have a weighted blanket for those times when I need a little extra depth in my rest. Honestly, I’m kind of a sleep connoisseur. I even teach Yoga Nidra—which literally means “yogic sleep.” That dreamy, floaty space between waking and sleeping is my jam. I love curling up as the big spoon with my kid or my partner. It’s all sacred to me.

So off I went, fully aware that the Camino would challenge all of that. I packed earplugs (many!), boarded a flight from Calgary to Barcelona, and prepared to walk 200 kilometers over two weeks with my buddhist teacher, Lama Linda Hochstetler. I also prepared, mentally at least, to leave behind my family, my routine—and my beloved king-sized bed.

What I didn’t fully prepare for was just how relentless the sleep deprivation would be.

From the very first night, it hit me. Our first albergue (a hostel just for pilgrims) had more than 300 beds. Three hundred! Bunk beds were crammed in a long hallway, sardine-style. I took one look around and thought, Oh no... this is going to be rough.

And rough it was. The guy in the bunk next to me? The loudest snorer I’ve ever encountered in my life. Not even my trusty earplugs could compete with that kind of sonic assault. It was like sleeping next to a human chainsaw.

Every night I tossed and turned, trying to block out the cacophony and the unfamiliarity. My jet lag didn’t help. My cozy sleep rituals were gone, and what remained was a kind of grueling endurance test I hadn’t expected. Out of 14 nights, I think there was only one or 2 when I got a room full of non-snorers. One. And yet… somewhere along the way, a transformation began. Sleep didn’t come—but sleep transcendence did!

What I Learned from Losing Sleep

1. I can choose my state of mind—even in discomfort.
 I began to realize that I could decide not to spiral into anxiety over the discomfort I was experiencing. Yes, I was tired. Yes, it was frustrating. But I didn’t have to add mental suffering on top of physical discomfort. I had more control over my inner state than I thought.

2. I can relax—even without falling asleep.
 On many nights, I simply surrendered. I let go of the goal of “falling asleep” and focused instead on relaxing my body and mind. I practiced what I teach—Yoga Nidra, meditation, breathwork, I even went to bed with my mantra counter! I allowed myself to just be in the moment, letting the world move around me without trying to change it.

3. I can function surprisingly well with little to no sleep.
 To my amazement, I was able to walk, talk, laugh, reflect, and even enjoy myself through it all. I discovered a kind of strength and resilience I didn’t know I had. My body coped. My spirit stayed intact. And my mood didn’t collapse the way I feared it would.

4. My attachment to 8 hours of sleep started to dissolve—and that was freeing.
 This was perhaps the most powerful realization: I am not as fragile as I thought. Releasing my rigid attachment to perfect sleep gave me more freedom. I now know that even when circumstances are far from ideal, I can trust myself to adapt. My being remains aligned, my body keeps moving, and my spirit stays whole.

The Camino didn’t give me rest in the way I expected. But it did give me something deeper: a reminder of my inner capacity, my ability to soften in struggle, and the surprising gifts that come when comfort is stripped away. Would I go back and do it again? Absolutely! I even plan on returning to finish what I started. Imagine what more I can learn!