read this if things seem worse at night
I don’t know.
Maybe it’s because there are fewer distractions for us at night? Our physiology definitely plays a part, but the combination of insomnia, racing thoughts, and darkness is what used to get to me.
I may come back to this entry to muse on the why of it all, but for now, I want to leave you with some things that I do to get through it.
The first thing that helps me is acceptance. If I can accept the night as the time my demons emerge, and be ready for them, those hours already have less power.
The obvious interventions for big feelings in the late, late night are TV, podcasts, media, etc. But we’ve all learned that the blue light and endless stimulation from scrolling are bad for our sleep health. These are the moments when I assess and prioritize. I must decide what is more important in this very moment: my sleep health or my in-the-moment sanity. No, you shouldn’t have to choose between the two. So, this is not advice—it’s just my maladaptive way of dealing with nights like these.
The more I try to sleep, the more I stay awake. Sleep becomes an obsession, and when I obsess, I’m thinking.
I tell myself that just by lying here, right now, not sleeping, I’m still giving my body and my system a rest. Time is ticking by, and the clock mocks me, telling me I won’t be able to function in the morning. I have to stay grounded in the thought that this is rest. My bed is one of my favorite hangouts, and when I’m in bed, at the very least, I can let the mattress support me—even if that’s the only rest I can get. It’s still rest.
I write lists. I’ll turn the light on and inventory whatever is on my mind that feels worse at night. Unpacking, separating, and organizing the content of the big feelings helps me tease the problems apart into smaller chunks of terror. The feelings become less of a soup and more of a tidy cupboard, where all the labels are facing forward, and I can take out one at a time.
I lovingly ambush my cats. I have giant cats that are heavy sleepers. Yes, I will approach their sleeping spot, no matter how peaceful they look, and I will grab them and make them come to bed with me. Again, this is not advice. I’ve only had 50/50 success with this intervention, but when it works—if they stay—it’s an immediate sedative for me.
I clean. I usually don’t hardcore scrub, but reorganizing is one of my coping strategies. Excess energy—whether it’s anxious, angry, or sad—the focus on moving things from one place to another is strangely calming. I’m very lucky not to have downstairs neighbors currently, as I’ve enraged many prior neighbors with my furniture rearranging at 3 a.m.
I tweak my website. You’ll probably never come to my site and have it be the same. I’m compulsively reworking it.
I online shop. Not advised, but I most recently purchased some cross-stitch kits, magnetic eyelashes, and notebooks for no reason.
I make playlists on Spotify. It used to be mix tapes, then it was mix CDs, then Apple Music playlists, and now it’s Spotify. Let me know if you’d like to share. It helps me to find music that fits the current feelings and compose a narrative through songs.
I play games on the NYT games app, and then I get depressed again when I finish all of them. But Tiles—that one never ends and is incredibly satisfying.
I shower/take a bath. It’s a genuine recalibration. I’ll use the expensive cleansers because middle-of-the-night showers are a special occasion. Maybe I’ll shave my legs, or tend to the parts of my body that get neglected in my often-rushed morning shower.
So, I don’t have the reason or the answers for what to do when the night feels sad and haunted. I just want to validate your experience. If you see my little green dot as “online” on social in the middle of the night, do say hi.