No Nightingale

Nighttime has consistently been the time of day when anxiety faithfully pays her visit. The racing thoughts are racier at night...and not in a good way. 

"What did you say today in that conversation with a friend?" 

"What were you even thinking?" 

"Why did so-and-so not reply to that text message?"

"What if that work project doesn't get done in time?" 

Oh, and the meta-standby, "What if I can't fall asleep?"

Source

As a child, nighttime anxiety presented itself in the form of separation anxiety. I have amazing parents, and they were/are my very best friends. What I know now as codependency and a fear of abandonment made me never quite want to be away from them. As such, I never went to any sleepovers as a kid, though I tried many times. Each potential slumber party or sleepover ended with the inevitable call to my parents to come and get me.  

The phone calls always brought a deep wave of shame over me. I knew I was disappointing my parents and my friends. But the fear of disappointing anyone, though overwhelming, was always overshadowed by the crippling anxiety of being away from home. The idea of falling asleep somewhere besides my own bed in my own room with my parents next door was paralyzing. I just couldn't ever do it. 

I had milestones later in life. The night Pawpaw died I stayed overnight without my parents at my cousin's house. Our older cousin stayed with us. I stayed on the couch with the television on all night, silently crying, hopelessly grieving the loss of Pawpaw. I never even closed my eyes. 

The summer before college I attended Orientation overnight. This overnight stay was definitely a turning point for me. I stayed with strangers in a strange room. I packed two sleeping pills wrapped carefully in tissue in my overnight bag. I remember sneaking the pills down with some tepid tap water from the community bathroom, cringing as I crawled onto the weirdly-loud plastic covered mattress, and then nothing else until the next morning.

I was proud of myself for those two nights. I had spent my life up until that point feeling so guilty and embarrassed for not being able to do the thing that is a rite of passage and normal for most kids. I spent a lot of time beating myself up for not being able to overcome something that seemed so simple. 

The thing about anxiety that sneaks up on you sometimes is the way you beat yourself up over it. You see others, and you think: "why aren't they struggling?" And honestly, they probably are. But it's rare that you see that. 

We're taught to hide away our anxiety, to not let others know or see that we might have problems or be human. That's one of the hardest parts of being human: we must pretend we're not human. But as an adult, I am trying my best to reject that as a concept. I will be radically and unapologetically me. Because the night is hard enough to get through trying to pretend to be somebody else. 

What are the nighttime thoughts that keep you away from sleep?