I've had trouble sleeping my whole life.

I vaguely remember being about three years old when my mom would wake me up for kindergarten. I'd wake up feeling like a zombie—completely unrested and unwilling to get out of bed—even though my parents made sure I had a strict sleep schedule. I didn’t even have a phone until around seventh grade (and it was a basic one, not a smartphone).

In school, I still felt awful. I’d go to bed before midnight and get up around 7 a.m., but I never felt rested.
As I got older, things only got worse. By high school, I was falling asleep at 3 a.m. or later, and as an adult, it wasn’t unusual for me to stay awake until 6 a.m., even if I had to get up at 8 a.m.
The issue wasn’t "too much screen time," as people often assume. It was an inability to fall asleep, no matter what. I’d spend hours staring at the ceiling, feeling utterly exhausted—like I was carrying a ton of bricks—but unable to drift off. Sure, there was occasional anxiety, but that wasn’t always the cause. I wasn’t idle during the day either; I’d go for walks, stay active, read, and think a lot. But once I hit the bed, sleep just wouldn’t come.
The only time I felt truly rested was when I stumbled upon a natural schedule that suited me: going to bed between 8 and 10 a.m. and waking up around 3 to 6 p.m. During those hours, I felt full of energy, fell asleep easily, and genuinely enjoyed my days. But the world is designed for early risers—shops are closed at night, events don’t happen, and walking around in the dark has become unsafe with the current influx of migrants in the area.
I’ve tried fixing my schedule with medication. A doctor once prescribed a week of sedative sleeping pills, and they worked for a while. But my routine would inevitably slip back into nighttime hours. When that happened, I’d take a pill occasionally, endure the awful side effects, and then resign myself to my nocturnal existence.
On January 1st, I decided to try fixing my schedule again. For the past week, I’ve been waking up at 8–9 a.m. with my first alarm (no snoozing!) and going to bed before midnight. But falling asleep… yeah, that’s the problem.
For the first five days, I’d struggle to fall asleep, tossing and turning. Last night was the worst yet.
I couldn’t fall asleep at all, so I finally took a sleeping pill. Instead of helping, it triggered intense anxiety. I started having strange, fake memories that felt so real they made me cry—like, full-on sobbing. I couldn’t recognize that these were just bizarre hallucinations and not reality. Eventually, I calmed down, but I still couldn’t sleep.
As I lay there, spinning in frustration, my cat Frosya woke up, noticed I wasn’t asleep, and silently came over to sit beside me. He started gently stroking my back. I fell asleep within a minute.
I don’t know what’s next. I have an appointment with my therapist on the 15th, and I think I’ll bring this up. My general anxiety has decreased to a manageable level, but as soon as I get into bed, it feels like the entire world changes. The longer I lie awake, the more destructive my thoughts become.
Maybe I should try meditation? People say it helps.
The picture I drew was a result of my frustration after yet another sleepless attempt to rest.

How’s your sleep? Are you managing?