I’ve always been prone to anxiety. That’s a strange thing to lead with, but it is a defining feature for me. That’s not a bad thing, though: I’ve learned to appreciate that my anxiety is also tied to my conscientiousness, my work ethic, and my empathy for others. Prior to the birth of my daughter, my anxiety was manageable. I had occasional episodes of severe anxiety that would sometimes last weeks, but for the most part, I was highly functional and had a huge toolbox of self-care strategies to keep me moving forward. (Think: regular exercise, therapy, social time with friends, a regular meditation practice, good work-life boundaries, etc.) When my daughter was born, it felt like my life had flipped around. Suddenly, I had this little being that needed me so much, and never before had I cared about something so much, or wanted so badly to “do well.” Amidst all that pressure—as any new parent knows—my old supportive habits and routines were also temporarily suspended. I was recovering from a C-section, I couldn’t work out, I didn’t have the intellectual stimulation of work to distract my brain, and my new baby of course needed me at nearly all hours of the day and night. The “new me" looked nothing like the “old me,” and I struggled to maintain the perspective that this was temporary, that eventually most of those things would come back. When my husband’s parental leave ended, I really started to spiral. The thought of being alone with my daughter all day felt so scary and isolating. The irony was, around this time, my daughter actually started to sleep through the night. She was sleeping like an angel for nearly 12 hours every night, and yet my sleep started to deteriorate. I would lie awake worrying that she would cry any minute, or worry about the next day, and wonder how I would get by. I would tell myself, “If I could get a good night’s sleep, I could handle this.” I gripped the idea of a good night’s sleep so hard that I couldn’t actually let go and fall asleep. At the peak of my crisis, I went about four nights in a row with 20 minutes to an hour of sleep, but that was unusual. A more typical pattern was to go to bed around 10pm, wake up around 2:30, and then that would be it for the night. That pattern lasted a couple of months, and I was definitely struggling during that time. My doctor diagnosed me with chronic insomnia, postpartum depression and anxiety, and recommended medication. As a trained holistic nutritionist, I always resisted the idea of medication, but I felt desperate, so I started an anti-depressant/anti-anxiety medication. Honestly, that was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made. It gave me enough grounding to start doing the things I needed to do to dig myself out of a hole. When I was diagnosed, I was still sleeping 10-2:30 with the odd “all-nighter.” Once I began my medication, my wake time edged later and later, but that was over a period of about six to seven months. With enough sleep to start thinking clearly, I began working toward managing my chronic insomnia in a more sustainable, long-term way. I’m not going to lie, there was a lot of trial and error—but these actions and mindset practices helped drastically.
Change #1: I let go of “the perfect sleep” and aimed for “good enough”
For the first few weeks and months that my sleep began to deteriorate, I really resisted it. I was so angry and frustrated that I wasn’t getting enough sleep, and felt desperate for things to “go back to normal.” Eventually though, I accepted that this was happening. My sleep wasn’t good, but I sort of (begrudgingly) made peace with the fact that I was going to have to live with that for an indeterminate amount of time. I accepted that although this wasn’t going to be the easiest, most comfortable phase of my life, it didn’t have to be the worst either.
Change #2: I stopped letting sleep loss dictate what I could do during the day
After I accepted that I might have to struggle with sleep for awhile, I realized that I had to stop waiting for my sleep to get better to do stuff. For example, because I wasn’t sleeping well, I often felt that I shouldn’t work out, see friends, or even at times leave the house. I was just too tired. However, I realized shrinking my life down like this was actually making my sleep worse. So, I decided to edge towards normal activities, even if my sleep was really crappy. I knew this wasn’t the time to push myself to do anything crazy, but I did little things like get back into gentle yoga routine, plan regular walks with friends, and even start some light creative projects. My body and my brain really benefited from these routines, and even though my sleep didn’t improve for a while, my days improved.
Change #3: I ate a bedtime snack
I’m sure my nutrition supported me behind the scenes throughout my journey, but the irony was, I was still prioritizing good nutrition even when I was at my worst. So it definitely wasn’t the “cure”, although of course it’s always supported my overall health. I will say though that I brought back the “bedtime snack” into my life so as to minimize early awakenings due to hunger. It was usually something small, like some yogurt or cottage cheese before bed.
Change #4: I made sure I had things to look forward to
As I mentioned, I didn’t do much of anything for a long time when my sleep and mental health were really bad. As I started to gain a tiny bit of positive momentum, though, I tried to really run with it. In the early postpartum days, things felt pretty monotonous: life seemed to revolve around breastfeeding and my daughter’s napping schedule. When my sleep started to improve a tiny bit (it was still pretty bad, but better than the worst point), I made slightly bigger plans I could look forward to. Every week, I would plan little “field trips” for my daughter and I. I took her to museums, cute coffee shops around the city, or sometimes just the mall. They were simple excursions but at that time they felt so exciting, like I was getting to access the world again. I felt like my life was finally bigger than how much sleep I got. Interestingly, the less pressure I put on sleep, the more my sleep improved.
Change #5: I was extremely, extremely kind to myself.
One of my biggest acts of self-kindness was to accept taking medication. It wasn’t my plan, and it felt like a really humbling decision, but it was the right one for me. It was also the catalyst for a big theme that followed in the coming months as I recovered: Accepting help. I’ve always been stoic, independent, hard-working … and hard on myself. But postpartum anxiety, depression, and insomnia brought me to my knees. I realized I had to change in order to help myself, and one of those changes was to simply be a little kinder to myself, to not expect so much of myself, and to accept that I was human, and imperfect. One of the greatest gifts my experience gave me was to show me how strong I am. That experience was the hardest thing I’ve ever gone through, and my sleep was terrible for about eight months. Before becoming a mom, I used to freak out about one night of bad sleep. Now, although I still prioritize and value sleep, I feel much more relaxed about it. I realize that sleep itself is mostly out of my control, and my biggest job is just to try to make my life as good as it can be. The other thing my experience gave me is a new appreciation for how I feel now. I’m so grateful to now feel so grounded, engaged, and connected in my life. When I look at my daughter, I also feel a special bond with her: We made it through a really tough time together. And we didn’t give up. In my experience, insomnia isn’t about sleep. It’s about the rest of your life. In other words, how you sleep is more about how you spend your days. Alex Picot-Annand is a 37-year-old writer and nutritionist based in Toronto. Next up: Do Weighted Blankets Work for Anxiety and Insomnia?
