When Sleeplessness Isn’t Mania — It’s the Weight of Everything

Anybody who knows me knows I don’t do all-nighters.
Jamie used to make fun of me for it — no matter what we were doing, I’d hit my wall by 2AM like clockwork. My brain would just…power down.

So when I stayed awake for nearly a week after my ex-husband and I split— catching maybe an hour of restless sleep here and there—I knew something inside me had fractured. That’s when exhaustion stopped being tired and started being grief.

And now…it’s happening again.
Not every night, but enough that I can feel that familiar hum building under my skin.

And no, luckily it’s not hypomania this time.
The girls keep me tethered. They ground me. They’re the reason I don’t spin off the edge completely. But that doesn’t mean my body isn’t under the same stress. It’s still buzzing, quietly warning me that something’s got to give.

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Tethered by Love, Not Gravity

The difference this time is that I’m not falling into the void alone. My girls are my anchor. They’re the reason I eat, the reason I laugh, the reason I eventually crash.

People talk about strength like it’s some glamorous badge of honor, but mine looks more like dark circles and caffeine shakes. It’s not pretty. It’s primal.

They’re my strength—not because I’m some stoic mother holding it all together—but because their existence gives chaos a purpose. They remind me why I still try, even when I’m bone-deep tired.

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Sleepless Doesn’t Always Mean Broken

Maybe that’s the lesson here. The sleepless nights don’t always mean I’m unraveling—sometimes they mean my mind’s too full of trying. Trying to process, to protect, to push forward.

It’s not hypomania. It’s hypervigilance. It’s motherhood in its rawest form—staying awake because the world feels too fragile to sleep through.

And even when I finally crash, I crash knowing I’m still tethered.
Still anchored.
Still theirs.

So why am I sharing this?
Because I know there are others lying awake tonight—exhausted but wired, steady but shaking, doing their best to hold it all together.

It will get better. Not suddenly, not all at once, but slowly.
Keep treading water.
Keep breathing.
Just keep swimming. 🖤