My superpower is helping others understand what narcolepsy is like

There’s a quiet moment I’ve come to depend on: the second my body gives in and I slip into sleep. It’s not dramatic. It’s not planned. It’s just necessary. That moment is when I recharge.

I’m Rachel Nesmith, though many people know me as Sleepy American. I live with narcolepsy with cataplexy, and over the years, I’ve learned to describe my experience through a kind of superhero lens. Not because it’s glamorous, but because it helps people understand something otherwise invisible.

In my world, I have the superpower of empathic projection, my “Empizer.” With one electric touch, I imagine being able to let someone feel exactly what I feel in that moment — the heaviness, the sudden loss of muscle control, the overwhelming pull into sleep — giving them a preview of that strange, in-between state where I’m awake, but not fully in control.

Of course, in real life, I’m not actually walking around zapping people. Rather, I am constantly trying to translate those experiences — through my words, my music, and my storytelling — so others can empathize, because saying “I’m tired” doesn’t even begin to cover it.

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The NapCave is where I reset

Rachel Nesmith recharges in her NapCave. (Courtesy of Rachel Nesmith)

I like to say I recharge in my “NapCave.” It’s a playful way of describing something very real. The NapCave isn’t always an actual place. Sometimes it’s my bed. Sometimes it’s a quiet space I can find in the middle of a busy day. Sometimes it’s wherever my body decides it has to be.

To someone on the outside, it might look like I’m checking out. However, what’s really happening is that my body is demanding a reset. Narcolepsy doesn’t give much warning. When sleep comes, it comes. However, if I don’t listen, everything gets harder. My energy drops. My symptoms get stronger. My ability to think clearly or communicate what I’m feeling starts to slip away.

Hence, I’ve learned to respect those moments rather than fight them. Napping isn’t me stepping away from life. It’s me making it possible to come back to it.

For a long time, I struggled with the idea that needing so much rest somehow made me less productive, less reliable, or less capable, but I see it differently now. Rest is what allows me to keep showing up. It’s what gives me the clarity to tell my story, the energy to advocate, and the ability to connect with others in a meaningful way. Without it, everything I care about — my voice, my creativity, my relationships — starts to fade. So when I step into my NapCave, I don’t see it as stepping away from my purpose. I see it as protecting it.

If I could use my Empizer for real, even just once, I think it would change everything. I’d let someone feel what happens when laughter suddenly turns into weakness — when my knees buckle or my body gives out because of cataplexy. I’d let them feel the confusion of waking up but not being able to move. The frustration of trying to stay alert when your brain is pulling you somewhere else. Not for sympathy, but for understanding, because narcolepsy with cataplexy is often misunderstood. It’s easy to assume it’s just about being sleepy. But it’s so much more layered than that. It affects how I move through the world, how I plan my day, and how I show up for the people I love. It shapes everything.

Turning my reality into understanding

Since I can’t actually transfer my experience with a lightning touch, I’ve found other ways to share it, even when it’s uncomfortable. Every time I describe what a sleep attack feels like, or what it’s like to lose muscle control mid-laugh, I’m building a bridge. I’m trying to close the gap between what people see and what’s really happening.

This is when something powerful happens. People start to say, “I never realized,” “That makes so much sense now,” or even, “I feel like I understand you better.” That’s my Empizer at work.

I know not everyone will fully understand what narcolepsy with cataplexy feels like. Empathy doesn’t require you to experience something firsthand. It just requires you to listen, to believe people when they tell you what they’re going through. Stay curious instead of dismissive. Learn to recognize that invisible conditions are still very real.

If my words, my music, or my stories can bring someone even a little closer to that understanding, then my Empizer is doing exactly what it’s meant to do. So when I start to feel that familiar drain, when my energy dips and my body reminds me who’s really in charge, I’ll be in the NapCave resting, recharging, and getting ready for the next moment of connection.

Note: Narcolepsy News is strictly a news and information website about the disease. It does not provide medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. This content is not intended to be a substitute for professional medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. Always seek the advice of your physician or another qualified health provider with any questions you may have regarding a medical condition. Never disregard professional medical advice or delay in seeking it because of something you have read on this website. The opinions expressed in this column are not those of Narcolepsy News or its parent company, Bionews, and are intended to spark discussion about issues pertaining to narcolepsy.