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I have tried exercising and fresh air. I have tried no screens. I have tried baths. I have tried mild sleeping supplements. I read almost every night. I follow just about every textbook remedy to enhance sleep, to no avail.
The problem is not falling asleep. It’s staying asleep.
Every night, somewhere between midnight and four, I am awake. Usually, it’s 3 a.m. Sometimes, it’s every hour on the hour.
As annoying as this habit is, the worst part about it is that the insomnia is usually accompanied by mild to moderate anxiety and/or irrational thought.
With regard to the latter, my middle-of-the-night irrationality will usually involve my kids in some way - some preposterous, detrimental scenario that I have created in my head, which when examined in the daylight will prove to be ridiculous.
Most of the time, however, my middle-of-the-night machinations are a turntable of the day’s events. Just as a vinyl record will spin continuously, so do the conversations of the previous day spin in my head.
While annoying, that, in itself, does not seem that bad. The hell of the situation is that every seemingly stupid thing I said or did is on the highlight reel. It’s my own personal Groundhog’s Day every night of my life. Every over-the-top action or gesture is replayed. This could include all the times I laughed just a little too loud. All the quips that seemed so important to say at the time, but later proved to be extraneous and awkward. Swear words that materialized out of nowhere and carelessly tossed into conversation. You get the idea. Any and every time that I made myself look or sound stupid winds its way through the ticker-tape in my brain.
Yeah, I know how crazy that sounds. I do. But on the flip side, I do not know how to shut it off. I wish I did.
The middle-of-the-night seems to be the time when I come face-to-face with every fear, insecurity, failure that I have successfully tucked away during the daylight hours. It’s a Pandora’s Box of misery that I unleash on myself.
When I’m with it enough to recognize what’s happening, I pray. I know that Satan has found my weak spot, my vulnerability, and is wreaking havoc. My go-to prayers have been Bible verses in those moments. Psalm 23 was on repeat for a while, and Philippians 4:4-8 has also become a middle-of-the-night mantra to chase the demons away.
But I admit that I’m worn. I don’t know why I’m such a basket case. Is it some unresolved sin? Is that why I’m plagued by myself? Is there something I haven’t confessed? Is there some soul business that I haven’t resolved? I don’t know. I definitely don’t think it’s “Samuel Syndrome,” a case of me being awakened by God in the middle of the night, to which I am to respond, “Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening.”
I do think that I have unresolved business. I just can’t put a finger on what it is, exactly. I suppose the most logical thing to do is ask. God and I have plenty of opportunity to talk it over in the middle of the night. That is as good a time as any to ask God to reveal whatever it is that I need to see/know.
He is truly the only One to whom I wish to give my midnight thoughts. Even though there are a lot of people who show up in the middle of the night, crowding my thoughts, participating in my macabre tableau, I need to clear the room. At my core, I always try to do the right thing. I mean well. I try to put others first, and most importantly, I try to live my life in a way that makes Him proud to call me child. The midnight pistol-whipping that I endure each night is not what He has in mind for me. The question is why do I seem to think it’s what I deserve? There is work to be done.
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