Bedtime is for Sleeping....Tell That to My Brain

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You would think, after a long day of doing human things—working, socializing (barely), eating my feelings, pretending to be productive—my brain would cut me some slack. Let me tuck myself into bed, close my eyes, and gently drift off into a peaceful, well-earned slumber.

That would be the dream, right?

But nope. Every night, without fail, I lie down with the noble intention of actually sleeping. Like, real-deal, unconscious, drool-on-the-pillow sleep. Not overthinking. Not mentally replaying that awkward thing I said at a party in 2014. Not suddenly remembering I never replied to an email from three weeks ago.

Just good old-fashioned rest.

And yet, every night, my brain takes that as a cue to clock in for the night shift.

“Oooooh, you thought we were done for the day? That’s cute!"

It’s like the moment my head hits the pillow, my brain cracks open a Red Bull, grabs a whiteboard, and says, “Alright, team, let’s circle back and touch base on literally everything that’s ever happened to us.”

Boom. Instant mental chaos. Welcome to the bedtime brainstorming session no one asked for.

The To-Do List That Waits Until Midnight

All day? Nothing. My brain is basically in airplane mode — just enough power to function, but definitely not taking in anything new.

But the second I go horizontal, suddenly it’s showtime. My brain’s like, “Alright, team — let’s get to work.”

“Did you ever reschedule that dentist appointment?”
“Let’s map out the full itinerary for that trip you’re taking... in three weeks.”
“Wait — where is that one shirt you used to wear all the time? Do you even still have it?”

And suddenly I’m deep in a mental rabbit hole, planning outfits I haven’t worn in years and trying to remember if I ever cancelled that one subscription from 2021 — all while lying completely still, in the dark, pretending this is somehow helping me fall asleep.

The Midnight Identity Check

Just when I think I’ve handled the to-do list portion of the program, my brain decides to get philosophical.

“Quick question — what are you doing with your life?”

Oh, excellent. Nothing like a little existential crisis between brushing my teeth and setting my alarm for the fifth time because I don’t trust myself.

Suddenly, I am going through the life choices that led me here. Should I have taken that other job offer in 2018? Should I have moved to Australia instead? What if I had served in the Army? Why didn’t I try to walk in Paris Fashion Week? Am I living up to my full potential, or am I just a tired raccoon with Wi-Fi and access to frozen paneer kulchas?

Absolutely nothing gets resolved, of course. I just lie there, contemplating the vastness of the universe and wondering if the universe is judging me for how much time I spend on my phone.

Every Body Part Suddenly Has a Complaint

You would think after working seven days a week and being over 30, my body would be thrilled when I finally lay down to rest. Like, “Ah, yes, thank you for this horizontal opportunity. Let us heal.”

But no. Apparently, my body holds a daily staff meeting at exactly bedtime to file all its grievances.

Why is it that the moment I get into the perfect sleeping position—like spine aligned, one leg out of the blanket for temperature regulation—some deeply inconvenient part of my body suddenly decides to get itchy?

And I’m not talking about an arm or something simple. No. It’s always the most strategically unscratchable area. I won’t name names, but let’s just say... It’s not exactly public-scratchable.

Also, I don’t even use a pillow. I’ve eliminated the pillow drama entirely. Gone. Removed from the equation. You’d think that would be one less thing for my body to argue about.

My body at 10 PM: All systems go.

My body at 11 PM: Spine: Let’s try lying in a way we’ve never done before.

Bladder: I might need to pee. Not sure.

Brain: Roll credits, but also, here’s a memory from middle school.

The Perfect Sleep Routine-It's a Myth

I’ve tried it all. No caffeine after 2 PM. Meditation. Journaling. That weird oil diffuser from SAGE that tastes like boiled socks. I even bought one of those sleep masks that makes you look like a blind raccoon.

Do they help? Sure. A little.

At this point, I’m pretty sure the idea of perfect sleep is just a myth. Honestly, I’ve always believed that the people who can sleep well and poop well are basically the healthiest humans alive.

Eventually... Sleep Wins (Kinda)

At some point—after replaying the day, overanalyzing my life choices, and internally arguing with myself about whether the stove is actually off—I finally pass out.

Not gracefully. Not peacefully. Just... knocked out because my brain gave up.

And then, what feels like five minutes later, the alarm explodes into my dreams like:

“RISE AND SHINE, LOSER.”

"Nope. Not ready. Try again later."

I wake up tired. And then I do it all over again the next night.

Final Thoughts (Because Of Course I Have More)

If you also lie in bed every night while your brain hosts a TED Talk, a therapy session, and a poorly timed game show—welcome. You’re my people.

Because while the rest of the world seems to be out cold by 10 PM, we’re over here running mental marathons, rewriting conversations from 2009, and suddenly remembering that weird thing we said to someone.

So here’s to us—the sleepless thinkers, the night-shift overthinkers, and the people desperately Googling “how to shut off your brain” at 2:13 AM.

We may not be sleeping... but at least we’re giving it a solid, overthought effort.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go lie down and do everything except sleep.