Finding friendship with Insomnia
The long and sleepless journey toward accepting what is and letting go of what is not
Kind Moon is a coaching and facilitation practice, led by Rob Douglas, with offerings including integration coaching, mindfulness practices, tea sessions, and beyond. Please book a free discovery call or reach out via the Kind Moon website to learn more.
Good morning, afternoon, evening, or whenever you may be (and a warm greeting to those special few who perhaps are feeling beyond time itself). This week, I am going to pause and acknowledge my companion in life for many years: Insomnia.
Have you met each other yet? They seem to be pretty well known.
While I think we met early in life, hanging out before I really knew their name, Insomnia and I started being in regular dialogue when I was in my early teens. When Insomnia showed up (by around age thirteen or so), we quickly became thick as thieves in both the good and the bad. And, we have not parted ways since. I honestly cannot recall an evening in my entire adult life where I had an experience of lying down in bed, falling asleep within the first ten minutes, and waking up in the morning with no recollection of the passing night. I have friends who report that happening regularly. I feel like we must be running in very different social circles, because the Insomnia that I know so well would never let that happen to their friends.
I have tried to remember exactly when sleep became so elusive. I know as a little boy, I had a couple peculiar bedtime habits that my parents would observe when cracking the door open to check on their not-yet-sleeping child: 1) I sang made up songs to myself, often for hours at a time, and 2) I rocked myself to sleep, swinging side to side, every night up until age eight or so (and continued to do so on occasion for some years to follow). I had some odd bedtime routines when left to myself. So, maybe Insomnia and I were getting to know each other way back then. Yet even still, in those younger days, I would sleep through the night pretty well, once I was properly rocked and fully sung out. Those days were nothing like the in-and-out patterns that I am so deeply accustomed to now. My best guess on what brought Insomnia and me together is through a couple impactful shifts in my early teens.
The first was in January 1994 when a classmate, neighbor, and childhood friend of mine died. I was newly thirteen years old and, to this day, I have never fully understood what happened. He was at an overnight with three of his best friends. They all went to sleep and the next morning, when the others went to wake him, he was no longer alive. I recall hearing it was diagnosed to be Sudden Unexplained Death in Childhood (SUDC), which is similar to the more commonly known SIDS, though with older children instead of infants.1 But, nobody seemed particularly equipped in grief training within our community at that point and transparency of information was not part of my school’s culture (back then, I still mostly lived in shadows of Southern colloquialisms such as “we don’t talk about those kinda things,” to avoid any public displays of discomfort). So, like many of my classmates, I was left with an unexplainable mystery that implied, as kids, we may just die in our sleep with no rhyme or reason. And, if a child did so, we really should not talk about it too much because that would be upsetting for others.2
The second likely influence, moving toward being in committed relationship with Insomnia, was the arrival of an inexorable swirl of hormones and depression. Like most, ages twelve and onward brought forward some wild new experiences in my internal being that I had no context for or guidance around. Dang, what a crappy time for so many of us. I understand the desire to protect the innocence and simplicity of childhood, to be free for dreams and play without the encumbrance of adult life. I also know the shift away from that is unavoidable and requires some real grace and compassion, as an adolescent finds their way to standing on their own two feet in this world. I could only imagine trying to navigate that transition presently with the unlimited access of information and content that social media, the internet, and gaming may bring. At some point, however, it is each person’s journey to meet that awakening and make sense of it all. And, despite having an older brother and his friends to point me in the direction of many points of access for those orienting experiences, I was a late bloomer in my body, mind, and social life. I lived in a community where many idealized and fostered the notion of continued naiveté as virtuous (and somehow “pure”). So, when I did finally start to enter into those maturing and expansive situations, I had little context around ways to navigate them, felt deep shame about my emotions, and did not know how to talk about anything within that context. I felt far behind and utterly uninitiated. Hormonal, confused, and insecure, I was primed and readied for depression. And, with my neural pathways and overall behavioral development settling into some new fixed patterns, I set myself up quite well to keep that depressive mindset around for a long, long time to come.
So there I was, moving into my fourteenth year of life, with unprocessed grief, a repressed fear that we may unexpectedly die in our sleep, early stages of deepening depression, and late blooming hormonal instability. With them, I found a pretty decent recipe for sleeplessness. Insomnia and I were a near perfect match. And, despite healing through those originating factors (via some profoundly significant and powerful experiences alongside longstanding healing practices, which were certainly not easily won overnight), I somehow managed to build an ongoing capacity to go through life with very little sleep and an ongoing inability to get additional sleep even when I most desperately wanted it. Insomnia, my dear friend, we got started early and have held strong. You really know how to make an entrance.
The next ten plus years of life, I fought with Insomnia almost every night. We had a contentious relationship. I hated it for being in my life, I hated myself for not being able to break the repeated patterns, I hated feeling tired and getting sick, and, most of all, I hated being so full of hate. I pushed the anger down deep into a box of shame and I tossed and turned my way through life. My nights were spent in long hours of desperation, frustration, and often pain. Sleep arrived almost exclusively through sheer exhaustion. And, it lasted briefly whenever it found me. I would sometimes go close to 48 hours without a wink of true rest, finally collapse into sleep, only to pop up three or four hours later wide awake (though not much more rested). I went to sleep specialists, tried prescription medications, tried non-prescribed medications, went down alternative treatment paths, and took advice from nearly every person who had a recommendation for me.3 I saw my life after hours as going to battle in a war which I never gained any ground.
Then, I experienced a beautiful shift. Through a collection of varied influences and trainings, I learned some basic practices of meditation and mindfulness. And, I began to integrate them into my daily life. I wish I could report that in doing so, I conquered Insomnia on the battlefield through an incredibly skilled practice which allowed me to find deep and restorative sleep. I wish I could say that I learned the hidden secrets of shutting off my mind and dropping into a void of self that brought me into journeys in dreamland. But, that’s not what came. Sleep remained at a distance and I took no new, fancy weapon into battle at all. Rather, I learned something very different: to not go to battle in the first place.
Through meditation4, I learned life changing lessons about letting go and the power of acceptance. I began to move into certain questions with an openness that I had previously not allowed myself. What would it be to accept Insomnia into my life? Could I great Insomnia with curiosity and compassion? Could I rest in bed without feeling defeated and cheated every night? And, could I see my sleepless nights as opportunities to appreciate a time of stillness, peace, and restfulness in a different form? These were the questions that I began to engage with on a daily (and nightly) basis. And, I gave myself a lot of grace as I leaned into these unknowns. I reminded myself, “It is okay if I get annoyed by Insomnia, because it IS hard to not get the proper amount of sleep. We need sleep. But, I can always asks these questions and give myself space with them before I let myself be consumed by that frustration.” And, so I did that, little by little.
Over the years, I began to actually enjoy parts of my insomnia. I took on the challenge of reframing my measurements from “How did I sleep last night?” into “How did I rest last night?” to give myself a less strict need for sleep as my only option. I began to use my time in bed as a chance to be alone with my thoughts in a playful and imaginative way. I began to track my dreams more, realizing that an advantage of being in-and-out all night with pockets of short sleep actually made remembering dreams easier (often even inviting a sense of waking dream states). And, I started to dialogue with Insomnia. Instead of hating it for robbing me of my much needed sleep, I would ask it why it was there with me on any specific night and what it wanted me to see. I looked at each night uniquely as its own experience, allowing me to let go of the bigger sense of a never ending war. And, I found some beautiful times in that. I rested deeply in new ways.
Don’t get me wrong when you read this. I would likely give every penny to my name for the ability to get a repeated, solid 8+ hours of uninterrupted sleep. I feel confident it would change my life in my personal health, my general engagement, and my overall resources throughout the day. I would love to know what that might feel like, even if for just a month or week. I am not submitting myself as a card carrying member of the Insomniac Society in perpetuity. I have not settled on being forever partnered with Insomnia for the rest of my time here on Earth. I still have times, when going through multiple nights of sub-three hour sleep, which take a heavy toll on me and leave me unable to bring any appreciation, curiosity or other helpful framings toward Insomnia. I just feel tired, sick, and unable to fully function. And, candidly, those nights are still more frequent than I would prefer.5
But, for the most part, my journey with Insomnia is one of growth and gradual peace. As I move toward my mid-forties, I see that I learned so much over these near thirty years of under-sleeping. We spend almost a third of our lives in bed. And, I am so grateful to have been able to move into a mindset of enjoying that time, as opposed to fearing it or holding resentment toward it. The ripples of those past feelings, as they splashed in me for hours and hours each night, took a major erosive toll on my wellness and my capacity to grow during the daytime hours. And now, with a little more space and appreciation, I find a time in the night that is often kind and welcoming to me. A time to restore my body and be alone with my thoughts. A time to practice meditations, send out prayers, and explore inner sensations. A time to listen deeply into the silence. A time to rest into the mysteries. A time to learn more about myself in ways that I never knew I could access. A time to meet up with Insomnia and see what my old friend has to tell me. And, a time that sleep comes as it can, when it can.
Following the breadcrumbs…
Maybe these can keep you company on some wide awake night. Sometimes, even in my acceptance of Insomnia, I still recognize that I need to get out of bed and take on something easeful for myself.
MUSIC: Milt Jackson and John Coltrane’s Bags & Trane. This 1961 release on Atlantic Records remains one of my favorite albums of all time. As I understand, this was not critically lauded and was considered a shortfall in light of the greater, separate successes from both of these incredible powerhouses of jazz. But, I’m no music critic and I like what I like. And, I loved this album from first listen. It still brings me peace and inspires my creative spark with each listen.
STREAMING SHOW: Station Eleven. I have not read the original book of the same name by Emily St. John Mandel. Though, I think about this show often. I am not sure it will remain evergreen in its appeal, as content so often fails to remain relevant over time. But, I really did love the show when I watched it a couple years ago. Station Eleven received some accolades but also seemed to slip through the cracks with most folks that I know. Worth a watch, if you have access.
PRACTICE: Taking three giant steps back. I created a simple practice for myself when I feel stuck in my head, especially in bed. I imagine stepping out of my body with a giant step back (where I can see myself fretting at whatever occupies my mind, from afar). I watch briefly with curiosity. Then I take another giant step back (where I can see the city that I am in, where I am just one person amongst millions in a swirl of minds each thinking their own thoughts). I watch with acknowledgement of how many lives are all around me every day. Then I take one more giant step back (where I see the planet, made up of all human and animal life, of flora and fungi, of so many other natural beauties and mysteries, unable to even tell where I may be in that massive mix of life). I awe at the world and all that we are a part of. I breathe slowly. For me, this practice slows down my busy brain and offers me some perspective on the grand scale of life. Just floating back out there, three giant steps away; breathing and taking it all in.
This is a dark and tragic topic that I am hesitant to bring forward, given the fear that it could elicit in parents or others (and potential triggering for anyone who has experienced such a horrific loss). SUDC is incredibly rare with 450 cases reported in the US in 2022 (according to SUDC Foundation). It’s causes are unknown, thus the name; however, there are ongoing research studies working toward finding potential genetic indicators and prior detection strategies. I wish I knew more to offer as comfort in something which feels so arbitrary and unfair as an unexplained loss of a child. I do not. For the curious, there are some research studies and writings available, including published pieces within NIH’s National Library of Medicine (such as these portions from SIDS Sudden Infant and Early Childhood Death: The Past, the Present and the Future).
There is still grief, some thirty years later, when I think about the passing of Christopher George Thompson (born on the 26th of August, 1980 and died on the 22nd of January, 1994). Christoper was an unique and fast growing child who stood a head taller than most of our classmates, was full of vim and fire, and was (like many at that age) heavily in the midst of the awkward and challenging developmental years of early teens. He was in a hard season of transition and was robbed of what beautiful expression may have been awaiting on the other side. We grew up living in the same shared cul-de-sac pocket of our neighborhood. By the time he died, I had long lost my close friendship with him, despite our early years of so many days spent biking between our houses, sneaking down to splash in the nearby creeks, and playing together over our Legos, GI Joe’s, and M.U.S.C.L.E. Men. We went to the same school (running from kindergarten through high school), which he and I attended from the start. That community was insular and contained. And, I remember feeling a dark cloud in my experience there, up through to the very end of high school graduation, in our lack of acknowledgment around losing one of our classmates beyond the weeks that followed his death. In my senior year, I even wrote a one act play about that disconnect, which got produced through a small competition, not knowing then that I was attempting to work out and process my own needs and meet my inner childhood grief.
The number of recommendations for improving sleep quality are mind blowing. From herbs to magnets to hypnosis to new routines to sound therapies to exercises to meditations to medications to supplements to diets to spiritual practices to special pillows to no pillows to eye masks to custom mattresses to temperature changes to room arrangements to gurus to shamans to acupuncturists to therapists to chiropractors to doctors to…a thousand other pathways. I have tried so, so, so many. It is enough to make a person feel insane at times. There are frequent recommendations that essentially settle on “sleep hygiene” (regulated bedtime and wake schedule; sleep environmental temperature, light, and sound; no electronics after hours; early morning light and exercise; and reduction of stimulants in the diet such as caffeine and sugar), which I can say is likely beneficial to all. But there is no one-size-fits-all that I have ever witnessed and I would be skeptical of anyone selling such an offer. My best recommendation, from my limited success, is that if you are going to try something out, then commit and give it a good cycle of time to verify. Very few things will offer support with a one-off attempt.
Sometimes, I fear that I am using “meditation” too broadly. It’s like saying, “I play sports.” Meditation is full of different practices and engagements of those practices. I’m always excited to share more with those who may be interested. And, I offer facilitations of certain modalities that have resonated for me within my Kind Moon offerings. But for general context, the style of meditation that I tend toward is simply around mindful breath, which is most directly connected to the teachings of Anapanasati. Though, my practice uses that as a tool to move beyond the mind toward a broader release (as opposed to controlling the mind’s focus as many may understand Anapanasati to be about).
The severity of my sleeplessness has gone beyond any patterns that I can recognize. It comes and goes, often seemingly disconnected from any routines, stresses, or other lifestyle indicators. My body’s music just seems to be on shuffle. I share this for others who may feel this way too (with sleep or other bodily issues). It can be exhausting to be told how to fix your insomnia or for others to try to offer analysis on your health. Some things may just not make sense in our bodies and that is that. I hope we can each find answers and healing. But, know that you are not alone if you do not have those. And, that is okay. You are loved, just as you are.
To those who received this post in the Sunday morning newsletter format, my sincere apologies for all of my typos and errors. I believe that I corrected most of them online after it was sent out. True to the content, I wrote this piece late into an insomniac night with little editing to follow. Maybe the jumbled words and missteps helped paint a more vivid picture of a fatigued and tired brain. I hope you enjoy the read.