Sleep, Stability, and the Brain

Why Rest Is Foundational to Recovery

Three years ago, when I was working at the Winter Shelter every night, I observed something seemingly insignificant. One of my friends experiencing homelessness came every night. He’s an older gentleman, almost retirement age, and he drank a lot. For the first couple of weeks, he’d come in, read for a bit, and go to sleep. A few hours later, sometime between 1 AM and 3 AM, he’d wake up. He would sit at a table and read or work on a puzzle, trying to go back to sleep, but rarely succeeding. By around 4/5 AM, he got dressed and went out for the day.

Around 5:30 AM one morning, he came up to the desk and looked me dead in the eye. With an almost toothless smile hidden behind a ragged grey beard, he said, “That was one of the best nights of sleep I’ve had in a long time.” He didn’t get up once that night. He slept through just about every night of the entire season that year.

When we talk about homelessness, we often focus on housing supply, employment pathways, addiction treatment, or mental health services. Please don’t misunderstand, all of those matter deeply. But there is a foundational piece that rarely gets the attention it deserves: sleep.

Sleep is not a luxury or a secondary comfort. It is a biological requirement for cognitive stability, emotional regulation, and physical health. Without consistent, restorative sleep, the brain begins to change in measurable ways. For individuals experiencing homelessness, sleep disruption is not occasional—it is chronic. Understanding what sleep does to the brain helps us better understand what people are actually carrying when they walk through the doors of the shelter.

What Healthy Sleep Does for the Brain

Research consistently shows that adults require approximately seven to nine hours of sleep per night for optimal functioning (Watson et al., 2015). However, the quantity of sleep is only part of the equation. The quality and consistency of sleep are equally important.

During deep, restorative sleep, several critical neurological processes occur. The brain’s glymphatic system clears metabolic waste that accumulates throughout the day (Xie et al., 2013). The hippocampus consolidates memories and supports learning. The amygdala, which processes threat and emotion, recalibrates. Meanwhile, the prefrontal cortex—the region responsible for executive function, impulse control, and decision-making—restores its regulatory capacity.

In other words, sleep is when the brain repairs itself. It is the reset cycle that allows emotional control, rational thinking, and long-term planning to function the following day.

When sleep is consistent and restorative, individuals demonstrate improved mood regulation, stronger working memory, better stress tolerance, and greater cognitive flexibility. These are the very capacities required to navigate complex systems, make long-term decisions, and manage adversity.

What Happens When Sleep Is Inconsistent or Fragmented

When sleep becomes fragmented or chronically restricted, the effects on the brain are significant.

Even short-term sleep deprivation increases amygdala reactivity—in one study by Yoo et al. (2007), emotional responses were up to 60% more reactive after sleep loss. At the same time, the functional connection between the amygdala and the prefrontal cortex weakens, meaning emotional impulses are less effectively regulated.

Over longer periods, chronic sleep disruption elevates cortisol, increases systemic inflammation, and impairs immune function (Irwin, 2015). Neuroimaging studies have identified changes in gray matter density and functional connectivity in regions associated with attention, learning, and emotional regulation (Krause et al., 2017).

This is not simply about feeling tired. It is about sustained neurological strain that alters cognitive performance and emotional stability. When someone is chronically sleep deprived, executive functioning declines. Planning becomes harder, impulse control weakens, emotional responses become more volatile, long-term thinking narrows, and stress tolerance drops.

Sleep in the Context of Homelessness

Now consider the realities of homelessness.

The very skills required to secure housing, maintain employment, attend appointments, or follow through on treatment plans are deeply dependent on adequate sleep.

Individuals sleeping outdoors often remain in a constant state of “survival mode”—hypervigilance, scanning for threats, just trying to make it through the day. Noise, exposure to the elements, fear of assault, and the need to protect belongings prevent deep sleep cycles. Even within shelter environments, early wake-up times, shared spaces, lighting conditions, and environmental stressors can interrupt REM continuity.

Research confirms that sleep disturbances are significantly more prevalent among homeless populations than housed individuals. In one study, over 60% of homeless adults reported clinically significant insomnia symptoms (Reitzel et al., 2017). Other research has identified high rates of trauma-related sleep disruption and chronic insomnia within this population (Taylor & Sharpe, 2008).

What this means neurologically is that many individuals experiencing homelessness are functioning in a prolonged state of cognitive and emotional exhaustion.

Prolonged hypervigilance activates the sympathetic nervous system, keeping the body in a stress-dominant state. Over time, this mirrors patterns observed in trauma-related disorders, including heightened anxiety, irritability, emotional numbing, and difficulty forming trust (Meerlo et al., 2008).

When someone has not experienced consistent, restorative sleep in months or years, we should expect dysregulation—not because of character deficiency, but because of biology.

Rethinking “Stability” Through a Neurological Lens

It’s easy to interpret certain behaviors as non-compliance, poor decision-making, or lack of motivation. However, neuroscience invites a deeper consideration.

Chronic sleep deprivation impairs executive function. Executive function governs planning, self-control, organization, and long-term goal orientation. Without it, navigating bureaucratic systems, maintaining appointments, or regulating emotional responses becomes significantly more difficult.

Housing provides more than shelter from the weather. It provides neurological stabilization.

Safety allows deeper sleep.

Deeper sleep restores executive functioning.

Restored executive functioning improves decision-making.

Improved decision-making supports long-term stability.

The relationship is cyclical, and it works in both directions.

This is one reason why non-congregate models and stable, predictable shelter environments matter. When individuals have consistent access to a place to sleep, reduced noise exposure, predictable routines, and a sense of emotional safety, sleep quality improves. Research suggests that improvements in sleep can produce measurable changes in mood regulation and cognitive performance within weeks (Walker, 2017).

Sleep does not solve homelessness on its own. But without it, every other intervention becomes more difficult.

Why This Matters for Our Work

When we advocate for stable housing models, trauma-informed shelter design, or predictable routines within our programs, we are not simply providing comfort; we are creating the biological conditions necessary for human recovery.

Rest is foundational to dignity, rational thought, and emotional resilience. If someone has been living in survival mode, their brain has been living there too. Part of the work you’re involved in is restoring the capacity to rest.

And that is more powerful than we often realize.

Late Fall, Early Winter, and Re-learning to Breathe

If it’s felt quieter than usual from me these past several weeks, I want you to know I haven’t gone anywhere. I’ve just been living in that strange in-between space where the work is constant, the days move fast, and I occasionally look up and realize I’ve been holding my breath without meaning to.

Since my last newsletter—ironically named, “An overdue update!”—the pace has picked up in a big way (you can view past newsletters here). Most of November was spent preparing for the Winter Warming Shelter—staffing, training, policies, logistics, coordination with partners, and all the unglamorous but essential details that make overnight shelter safe, dignified, and sustainable. As winter in Illinois often does, the weather arrived on its own timeline, and we ended up opening the shelter early on November 30th. It was one of those moments where preparation meets reality, and you open the doors because people need somewhere warm, ready or not. Thankfully, a local church, Common Good Church, spent its usual service time that Sunday helping get the shelter space ready for that night.

December hasn’t slowed things down. In fact, it’s added another layer. Last Wednesday, the City released the RFP for the Lexington Motel (where they moved everyone from Tent City at the beginning of this year), which has been a long-anticipated step and has generated a lot of conversation, questions, and energy. Right now, we’ve been collaborating with some key local partners to explore how we might apply and contribute toward a thoughtful, community-centered solution. There’s still a lot unfolding, and much of the work is behind the scenes, but it’s been encouraging to see people leaning toward collaboration rather than competition.

Between shelter operations, ongoing casework coordination, conversations with partners, and the general weight that winter carries for people experiencing homelessness, these weeks have been full of all the things and emotions—good, heavy, meaningful, exhausting. There are days when the work feels deeply grounding and days when I realize I’ve been moving so fast that I forget to pause, breathe, or step back long enough to notice how tired I am.

I also want to share something transparently. Over the course of this year, monthly financial support has dropped by about $900 a month compared to the beginning of the year. I’m incredibly grateful to every person who gives, because this work simply wouldn’t be possible without that support. If you’ve ever wondered whether your giving makes a difference, it truly does. And if you’re in a position to start or increase support, it would directly help sustain the work I’m doing alongside our community during this season.

Through it all, I remain deeply grateful for you—for your encouragement, prayers, trust, and patience. When updates come less frequently, please know it’s not because the work has slowed or because you’ve drifted from my thoughts. It’s usually because I’m in the thick of it, trying to show up well, make careful decisions, and keep people safe and cared for.

Thank you for walking with me through this season. Thank you for your patience when I’m quieter than usual. I’m re-learning (slowly) that part of sustaining this work is remembering to breathe.