The Truth About Insomnia (No Filter Applied)

I’ve romanticized my relationship with insomnia.

Painted a picture of me and my coffee cup, sitting at the laptop like some kind of Appalachian Carrie Bradshaw at 2AM - typing up blog posts, waxing poetic, sipping slow.

But let’s be honest: that’s the social media filter talking.

’Round here, we take our late-night coffee with a side of grit and a spoonful of truth.

Because insomnia? She’s not cute.

She’s ugly. Unbearable.

She’s brain fog in the middle of a workday.

She’s driving at 2PM and fighting to keep your focus because your body’s awake, but your brain never showed up.

She’s the reason I’ve made the same mistake ten times in a row - though at least the office got a laugh.

She’s me, watching Jelane sleep peacefully beside me, wishing I could do the same.

Instead, I’m back at this screen, wondering what my next blog or LinkedIn post will be - when all I really want is rest.

Not the kind you get from lying down.

The kind that sinks in.

The kind that holds you.

Insomnia is not romantic.

She is exhaustion dressed in denim and desperation.

And right now? With burning eyes and a heavy chest, I would give anything for that deep, dreamless rest I keep chasing.