At 3 a.m., I find myself lying in the stillness, fixating on the spinning blades of my ceiling fan, a profound emptiness settling in my chest. The anxiety from earlier in the day resurfaces; it had been triggered by a simple grocery trip where I noticed families masked up, kids in N95 masks while their parents sported homemade fabric ones. It’s a surreal moment—are we truly living through a pandemic?
The sight of individuals strutting around, proudly flaunting their disregard for health guidelines, is even more disconcerting. It raises unsettling questions: If renowned institutions like Harvard deem it unsafe to resume normalcy until 2021, how cautious should the rest of us be? What happens if one of my friends with a compromised immune system falls ill when businesses begin reopening? What if the upcoming election leads to unforeseen chaos? Each night, my thoughts spiral, resisting the pull of sleep.
Typically a night owl, my sleep schedule has become increasingly erratic since the onset of COVID-19, worsened by my children’s transition to remote learning. My sleep has turned unpredictable, with no discernible pattern. After finally settling my 14- and 10-year-old between midnight and 1 a.m., I find myself both drained and inexplicably alert. That midnight surge of energy hits me every time. In the peaceful hours before my racing thoughts kick in, I relish the quiet—no pandemic updates, no meal prep, no incessant notifications. It’s during this calm that I can write freely, snack without sharing, and it’s often around 2 a.m. that I reluctantly switch off the light, only to lie awake in a state of anxiety.
If it weren’t for my alarm set for 9:25 a.m., I would likely sleep until noon. Often, I wake up, attend to the dog, and then succumb to the temptation of more sleep. When I finally rise, self-reproach washes over me—“Don’t squander this time; seize the opportunity!” On some occasions, I find myself unintentionally napping in the afternoon. Just yesterday, I closed my eyes “for a minute” and jolted awake an hour later, horrified that I’d missed dinner prep.
My children are managing slightly better. They wake when they hear me in the morning and begin their schoolwork, driven by the promise of screen time post-lessons. Yet, there are days when I become so engrossed in tasks that I realize it’s 10:30 a.m. and they’re still asleep. They often succumb to fatigue during their “no screen” time, even as we try to engage them with dog walks or games of Uno. Despite our efforts, lethargy clings to us like an unwanted shadow.
I am aware of how vital circadian rhythms are for our health. Disruptions can affect everything from mood to immune function. Sleep isn’t just a luxury; it’s a necessity. This understanding is why I set an alarm, striving to create some semblance of routine, yet I still struggle to grasp a consistent sleep pattern. The exhaustion feels all-consuming. I recognize that much of my fatigue stems from the grief surrounding current events, which has been shown to affect brain chemistry. It’s not merely me, I remind myself—self-compassion is crucial.
However, alongside my frustration lies guilt. Acknowledging that my sleep challenges stem from grief forces me to confront my feelings of loss. I feel undeserving of this grief, especially as someone who is healthy and secure, longing only for a semblance of my previous, albeit modest, social life. I often see social media posts asserting that “all suffering is equal,” but I struggle to reconcile that with the reality that many face far greater hardships.
Despite the challenges, I do recognize the positives—cherished moments with my children, their surprising independence in schooling, and the safety of my distant partner. Technology helps bridge our separation, allowing us to connect. I count my blessings, yet that doesn’t aid my sleep or bolster my energy during the day. It’s usually a combination of strong coffee and guilt that propels me through. I know sticking to a routine is vital for my rest. For now, I’ll continue to seek healthier sleep patterns while coming to terms with the fact that, perhaps, I am grieving after all.
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Summary:
Disrupted sleep patterns during the pandemic have left many feeling exhausted and anxious. The struggle to maintain a consistent sleep schedule is common, especially with the added stress of current events. Recognizing the impact of grief on sleep can be crucial for understanding one’s emotional state. Finding a routine and being kind to oneself are essential steps in navigating these challenging times.