I spent months searching for answers. Standard medical advice offered fragments — sleep hygiene tips, individual supplements, generalized wellness guidance. Useful in pieces. Incomplete as a strategy.
I was 46. Twelve flights that month. Third coffee, waiting to board for San Francisco. That's when it hit me: I couldn't remember the last time I'd slept through the night after a trip.
Not "slept poorly." Couldn't remember.
It wasn't burnout. It wasn't lack of discipline. My biology was running on debt — and the supplement industry was selling me isolated fixes for a systems-level breakdown.