You know what? I got hooked by the promise. Work harder. Cut the noise. Get more done. Some folks push “monk mode” with very little sleep. They say it builds grit. I wanted that edge. So I tried it.
I wish I hadn’t. Turns out, I’m not the first to suffer; another deep dive—I tried Monk Mode with less sleep: here’s what actually happened—shows eerily similar fallout.
The hype that pulled me in
I saw a few guides and threads. They said to wake up much earlier, shrink your sleep, and push through. No parties. No Netflix. Just grind. I already review gear and tools all day, so focus sounds nice. And I track sleep with my Oura ring and an Apple Watch, so I thought I’d be smart about it.
Spoiler: I wasn’t.
What I tried (and what went sideways)
For 10 days, I cut my sleep way down. I still kept a strict morning block for deep work. Phone on airplane mode. Slack off. Coffee early. Cold shower. The usual monk mode set. I also used Freedom to lock social apps and Forest for focus sprints.
Day 1 felt fine. Adrenaline can be loud.
By Day 3, I felt slow. By Day 6, my brain was mud.
Turns out, that's textbook cognitive fallout when you shave off REM and deep cycles—sleep scientists note that attention, memory, and decision-making all wobble fast (source).
I didn’t add more time. I added more errors.
Curious where a full month of this leads? Peek at I went Monk Mode for 30 days—here’s what actually happened for a longer sample size.
Real moments that made me pause
- Day 2: I replied to the wrong client thread on Slack. Twice. I even wrote “See attached,” and forgot the file.
- Day 4: I put salt in my coffee. Not cute. I cried a little. Then I laughed. Then I cried again. Mood whiplash is real.
- Day 5: I wrote a review draft in Notion, read it back, and it felt like a stranger wrote it with mittens on.
- Day 7: I missed my exit on the freeway. I wasn’t on my phone. I just zoned out.
- Day 8: I burned rice. Who burns rice? Me, on no sleep.
- Day 9: I snapped at a friend for texting “u up?” at 9 pm. I was already in bed and still felt wired.
Small things, but they stack. Work is detail. Life is detail. I kept dropping them.
Some people manage to stretch the experiment to an entire season—I went Monk Mode for 90 days: how I did it, what I felt, what I'd change is a wild read if you want to see the long-haul effects.
My body’s report card (Oura didn’t lie)
I know numbers aren’t everything, but they told a story.
- Resting heart rate went up 6–8 bpm on average.
- My Oura “readiness” score slid into the 50s. That’s the yellow zone, which for me means “hey, chill.”
- HRV tanked. Think less bounce-back; more slog.
- Cravings went wild. Chips, cookies, anything crunchy. I’m usually fine. Not that week.
- I got light headaches in the afternoon. Water didn’t fix it. Neither did tea.
Those swings aren’t just anecdotal; a 2023 controlled trial showed that five nights of restricted sleep bumped resting heart rate and clipped HRV in healthy adults (study).
Also, my eyes felt gritty. Like beach sand. And my skin broke out along my jaw. That doesn’t happen when I sleep well.
But did I get more done?
Here’s the odd thing. On paper, yes. I logged more hours. I filled more checkboxes in Notion. It looked good.
But my edits took longer the next day. I rewrote whole parts. I was busy, not better. There’s a difference.
A balanced critique—I tried Monk Mode so you don’t have to (but you might want to)—backs this up: busy isn’t always better.
If you're looking for a kinder, evidence-based roadmap to deep focus, the guides over at Monkify lay it out without preaching sleep sacrifice.
What worked better than less sleep
I did pull a few keepers from the monk vibe—without wrecking sleep.
- A short “deep block” each morning (90 minutes). I use a cube timer and the Forest app.
- A “no-scroll” rule after dinner. My phone stays parked by the door. Out of sight helps.
- A hard caffeine cutoff at 2 pm. Sleep came faster.
- Noise control. Sony WH-1000XM5 in the day; Loop earplugs when I need quiet.
- A tiny “shutdown ritual.” I write three lines: what I did, what I’ll do tomorrow, and one worry I’ll handle. Then I stop.
- Light walk right after breakfast. Morning sun resets me better than another latte.
Looking back, I also ditched the endless bedtime swiping on dating apps; if you’d rather schedule one quick, no-strings meetup and avoid the late-night distraction treadmill, check out FuckBuddies—the platform streamlines casual connections so you can satisfy your social side fast and get back to your focused routine refreshed. Los Angeles readers who want that same friction-free approach but with hyper-local options can browse the tailored listings at Backpage West Hollywood where vetting is quick and meets are arranged on your terms, freeing up evening headspace for sleep instead of scrolling.
I also tested a Hatch Restore for a gentle wake-up. It sounds silly, but that soft light felt kind. Kind wins.
A quick winter note
I tried this in late winter. Dark mornings add drag. If you’re chasing focus then, be gentle. A 10-minute light session helped more than any “push through” quote I saved on Instagram.
Who might still feel tempted?
If you’re in school, on a deadline, or launching a thing, I get it. The pull is strong. But please hear me: cutting sleep felt like borrowing hours at shark rates. I paid back with interest.
If you must run a short sprint, keep your sleep stable. Trim screen time. Trim meetings. Trim the fluff, not your night.
Pros and cons of the “sleep less” advice
Pros
- It feels edgy and brave for a day or two.
- Your calendar looks full. That can lift mood, fast.
Cons
- Foggy brain, shaky moods, and clumsy mistakes.
- Health signals dip. Mine did.
- Work quality slips, even if your logs look packed.
- It strains people around you. I got snappy. Not proud of that.
For a moderated blueprint that keeps shut-eye intact, see I tried full Monk Mode for 30 days—it helped, it hurt, here’s my honest take.
My verdict
Monk mode with sleep deprivation? Hard pass. It promised grit. It gave me glitches.
Monk mode with sleep protected? That I like. Keep a clean focus block. Kill the noise. Eat simple food. Move a bit. Sleep like it’s part of the job—because it is.
I wanted to be a machine. Turns out I’m not. I’m a person. And when I treat myself like one, my work gets better, and it stays better.
If you’re reading this at 1 am, hey—close the tab. Write three lines for tomorrow. Then bed. Your future self will high-five you in the morning.