Why Your Brain Holds a Board Meeting at 3 A.M.

It's 2:47 a.m. and you're wide awake. Not dramatically tossing and turning. Just awake, staring at the ceiling while your brain pulls up a slideshow of everything you've ever said, done, or forgot to do.

I ran a poll about this on Facebook yesterday. What's running through your head at 2:47? Something dumb you said in 1994. Whether you unplugged the crock-pot. Your entire grocery list in alphabetical order. Or nothing, you're just hot. So hot. A bunch of you answered, and D was a crowd favorite. One of you added an E: you have to pee but you don't want to get up. I accept E.

I'm D with a side of A. I wake up hot, and then my brain wants to turn on.

The Squirrels Are Not Scheduling Their Stuff

My squirrels used to start the minute my head hit the pillow. They'd review my day like they were having a board meeting, going over all the woulda, coulda, shoulda, or remember that one time 10 years ago. If I made it through that, they'd get a second session around 3 or 4 a.m.

Those damn squirrels just don't schedule their stuff. They want to hold the meeting at night.

And your brain doesn't like holes. If it doesn't have the answer, it makes one up. We're all graduates of MSU, Make Shit Up. So at 3 a.m. a dumb thing you said in 1994 doesn't stay a dumb thing you said. It becomes a verdict.

It's Two Problems in One Trench Coat

Here's the part nobody told us. For a lot of us over 45, it isn't only a busy brain. Hormones shift, and so does the body's thermostat. You wake up hot, your sleep breaks apart, and a brain that has been running all day sees the open door and starts the meeting.

So you've got a warm body and a brain with no off switch. Fix only one and you're still awake at 2:47.

I used to think powering through bad nights was a personality trait. It wasn't. I'd stop treating sleep like something I can catch up on later, because it's when the body does its repairs, and I was skipping the appointment.

What I Actually Do (Not Perfectly)

I cool the room down. It was 49 degrees outside the other night and 59 in our bedroom. I was hunkered under the blankets, sleeping great, because I didn't burst into flames. My husband had his electric blanket on three and was praying the dog would snuggle him. But Baylee, who's on steroids right now, was loving the cold too. My husband is outnumbered. One bedroom, two climates, and the dog picked a side.

I put the phone down and crochet. Badly. Doesn't matter. My hands are busy and the screen is off. I take my nighttime gummies before bed. You seriously need to try them for yourself.

I give the squirrels something else to hold. I wear a sleep mask with Bluetooth speakers that play Hallow meditations all night, so when the squirrels reach for something, there's something there that isn't my 1994 résumé.

I'm not telling you this works every night. Some nights the squirrels get their meeting anyway. But I'm waking up rested more often than not, often before my alarm, and I'll take that deal.

When It's 2:47 Anyway

Sometimes I will literally stop and tap my head, like stop, to try to pause the thoughts. It looks ridiculous. I'm doing it anyway.

Then I try to remember what my brain is doing. It isn't telling me the truth. It's trying to keep me safe, and it's doing it with a worst-case slideshow. A silence isn't always a no, and a dumb thing I said in 1994 was not a verdict. Maybe they were busy. Maybe they've forgotten it by now. Maybe they were awake at 2:47 with their own squirrels.

So tell me: what's on your agenda at 2:47? Something dumb you said in 1994, the crock-pot, the alphabetical grocery list, just hot, or the bathroom trip you're negotiating with yourself?

Fine was never the goal.

Cheryl 💋

Cheryl Miller

@HeyCherylMiller

Certified Nutrition & Wellness Coach (CNC, CWC)

Helping GenX women rebuild their health, confidence, and purpose.