Written June 20, 2025
Hello Dear Readers,
Ever been so exhausted that you can’t fall asleep? Welcome to my world—population: me, and maybe a few other unlucky night owls who’ve done battle with the great paradox of fatigue-induced insomnia.
Yesterday was a full-blown mowing marathon. I trimmed, I battled weeds, I may have muttered threats to crabgrass. By the time I came inside, I was drained—so much so that my body skipped past “sleepy” and went straight into “wired and grumpy.” Apparently, being utterly worn out doesn’t guarantee a trip to dreamland. Sometimes it just leaves you staring at the ceiling, pondering life’s cruel ironies.
Since my stroke, sleep has become a much more serious business. My occupational therapist warned me early on: protect your circadian rhythm like it’s your Netflix password. Sleep and wake at consistent times. Respect the rhythm. Obey the rhythm. Worship the rhythm. Okay, she didn’t say that last part, but you get the idea.
Post-stroke, I get tired faster than the average person. That’s just how it is. But sitting around grumbling about it? Not productive. Instead, I’ve been learning to listen to my body—like it’s a grumpy coach that yells, “REST, NOW!” and expects me to actually follow instructions.
Lately, though, it’s been tricky. My body’s waving the white flag by dinnertime, but when I lie down, my brain decides it’s party time. To make it more frustrating, I still wake up at my usual time, even if I’ve spent the night wrestling with my pillow and existential dread.
Truth be told, I’ve had sleep issues since I was a kid. Total night owl. Midnight was just the warm-up. Back then, I could bounce back without much trouble. My wife used to be the same, but she “trained” herself to sleep early. She swears by the power of good sleep—says it helps repair her body and brain. She never crammed for exams. She studied gradually and then coasted the week before test day. That approach helped her gain her accounting certifications way faster than most people—with scores so high, I suspect sorcery.
She believes her memory is sharp because she sleeps like a champion. And honestly? She might be right.
After I got back from the hospital, we had to rebuild everything—sleep included. Early on, I was practically a sleep zombie, clocking 9-hour nights and still struggling to wake up. So, we got proactive. We walked. We trained. We meal-prepped. We set a sleep schedule and stuck to it like bedtime vigilantes.
I’ve picked up a few tricks for better sleep—deep breathing, clearing my mind, a dash of meditation—but here’s the catch: you need just enough energy to do those things. Too little, and the focus fizzles. It’s like trying to read a novel during an earthquake.
So here I am. A little tired. A little wiser. Still fine-tuning this whole sleep-after-stroke thing. Because sleep may be natural, but after mowing the lawn and wrestling with brain fatigue? It’s practically a sport.