Sleep has long been my elusive lover, teasing and avoidant, giving just enough to keep me alive but never enough to satisfy. My first memories of insomnia stretch back to the 4th grade, when I’d lie awake in the wee hours panicking about a note sent home for my mother to sign. I was constantly in trouble at school; consequently the trouble would follow me home and intensify.
I stumbled upon the book Helter Skelter: The True Story of the Manson Murders when I was about 12, and a terror that Charles and his minions were going to slaughter me in my sleep joined the litany of worries, which also included my endless social faux pas and neglected homework, that kept me awake when I was desperate for sleep.
A parade of ghouls haunted my nights: Manson victim actress Sharon Tate, blood-soaked and pregnant; Jamie, the broad-shouldered, pale-faced girl who regularly announced “I’m gonna kick your ass” in the hallways of Grandview East Junior High; my beleaguered mother, generally frustrated with my shady behaviour; various teachers and other students with whom I had conflict, imagined or real.
While the parade constituents have changed as I’ve aged, my nighttime fantasies are still a distorted mirror-image of my daytime realities. Worries that furrow my brow (to be Botoxed away) during the day become Threats of Total Annihilation when I wake sweating at 3am.
When I discuss this in the course of working with clients, I describe it like this: say I turned off all the lights and shut the blinds so the room goes real dark, and then I took a flashlight and shined it on that Kleenex box there on the coffee table. Now, you never really noticed those tissues before except to grab one now and again, but suddenly that box is the only thing you see, bigger and brighter than before, right? But if I switch the lights back on and open the blinds, you’ll blink and look around the room, and the tissue box shrinks back into proportion, one item amongst many.
That’s what happens in the wee hours, when a lighter part of the sleep cycle flips your stressed-out brain into consciousness. It’s dark, no one else is awake and there’s nothing to distract you from That Problem, which is now glowing and urgent and threatening to destroy you. It’s hard to take your eyes off it, and your brain decides that developing a defence is urgent. Eventually you may drift off again, and wake in the morning to see that problem, while perhaps still difficult, has shrunk to take its place amongst the plethora of stuff that comprises your day to day life.
It makes sense I guess. If we lived in ye olden days, our stressors were more likely to be life threatening and it would make sense to wake in the wee hours to scan the perimeter for predators. Nowadays insomnia is just a pain in the arse.
Because I’ve been living with this for so long, and working with others like me, I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve which I find useful and you might too.
First, I’ll give you my own therapist’s advice (I steal from him all the time; he swears he doesn’t mind): When you find yourself ruminating in the middle of the night, tell your brain thank you. Thank you for trying to look out for me, for trying to protect me from being knife murdered by Manson, from getting my ass kicked by Jamie, or from being so impoverished that I’m forced to eat cat food casserole. Thank you, and also it’s important that I get some rest in order to fight these forces of doom , so I’m going to think about other things now. We’ll chat again in the morning.
Notice the tone here is friendly and light. One of the most important things you can do for yourself is to self-regulate; that is, don’t let yourself get angry or panicked about being awake. You’re already worrying, so adding another activating emotion to the mix will just exacerbate the wakefulness. Instead, remember that you will get through tomorrow just like you’ve gotten through every other day of your life. You may be tired, sure. Not ideal. But shooting what the Buddhists call “the second arrow” - feeling bad about feeling bad - will only serve to make you more tired tomorrow. Imagine yourself shrugging philosophically about it. So it’s another 3am wake up. You’ve seen it before, you’ll see it again. Next year, next month, hell, probably even next week you won’t remember this moment of this night.
The other thing to notice is the line “I’m gong to think about other things now”. Your brain needs a distraction in this moment, another bone to chew on to keep it from jumping back onto the well-worn dog track of That Problem. I’m going to list a few things here that many people find effective.
Read a boring book with a night light. Don’t read on your phone. Light reflected gently from a paper book is less activating than light shining directly from your phone (and we both know you’re actually watching Insta reels anyway).
Keeping your eyes open but kind of slitted, count to five. Then close them and count to thirty. Open them again, just halfway, and count to five. Repeat.
Name a vegetable, city, baby, item that you’re grateful for, whatever, that starts with each letter of the alphabet in order. Asparagus, broccoli, cabbage, you get it.
Imagine you’re packing from an infinite wardrobe for a dream holiday. Fold each item, one by one, into a suitcase that will magically shrink to fit into any overhead baggage compartment.
Don’t drink alcohol. It interferes with the production of melatonin, reduces REM sleep, can cause sleep apnea, makes you need to pee, and more. I’ll leave it to you to google this if you’re curious - there’s plenty of easy to find research out there.
Listen to something sleepy. This is my go-to strategy, and I’ve shopped around to find my favourites. Check out sleepwithmepodcast.com. My mate Drew Ackerman produces a podcast of expertly crafted, whacky and wonderful adult bedtime stories that thousands of people, including yours truly, have found life-changing. I also love the Insight Timer App, for their many sleep meditations and stories. I’m a side sleeper, so I’ll pop an earphone in my right ear with the volume low, curl up, and more often than not, sleep comes to me while I’m enjoying something else.
Since you’ve read this far, sleep may be elusive to you too, so I’ve embedded here a little guided meditation / bedtime fairytale just for you. This is inspired by various meditations and sleep stories that have worked for me, and I hope you’ll find it sleepy and soothing. Good night, my friend. See you next week.
Thank you! I love the Kleenex story, and I thought I’d heard them all. Cheers from another stumbling worrier in the deep dark night.