Awake. It is 10.15 pm. It’s been 5 nights since I have slept well. My head is hurting. My right eye is tired. Every night, I get into bed, I lie there awake, aware, unable to let go of the day. I try the tricks I have read on the internet. I relax my jaw and my shoulder, I try counting sheep. I turn on a sleep meditation by a man called Chibs Okereke on Calm. When Mr. Chibs Okereke says, ‘There is nothing left to do. There is nowhere left to be. It is time to rest.’ I feel seen. Yes, Mr Okereke, it is time to rest. There is nothing left to do.

Thoughts rush in. ‘I ate so badly today. That ice cream was too much. I also didn’t use my time well. There is so much to do. I am behind on this week’s essay. Remember that time you were rude to that person, ugh, will they ever like you again? Wanting to be liked by everyone is weak. Grow up, Trupthi. What is the time? I think it has been 20 minutes since I got to bed. I am falling asleep, sleeping.’ I feel an urge to drink water. I pick up the water bottle next to my bed. I reach for my phone. My phone’s screen reads 10:45 pm. I panic.

In every couple, there are two types of people. One, who falls asleep the minute their head hits the bed. Two, an overthinker. Most days by the time I am done with my mental dialogue, I can hear Advaith softly snore. In the pitch darkness, I will turn to him and stare. How can he sleep this easily? Maybe following his breathing could help. I try to breathe at his pace. I can hear Ollie sighing in his bed. Maybe he is awake too. Next day, on the treadmill, I listen to a podcast about sleeping. ‘Don’t lie in bed if you can’t sleep. Get up, do something else, sleep when tired. Don’t try too hard to sleep.’ How do you try to not try too hard? I push through the day.

As a child, I was often inflicted with a cough. My mother who slept next to me would try to get me to sleep. Pat my back, comfort me. Her eyes closed, tired from her day’s work. Maybe annoyed, maybe upset. But somehow comforting. I know she slept poorly herself. But found the immense generosity to be there, patting my back. I felt loved, the centre of the world, a child. And despite all the coughing, sleep would come.

It is 10.25 pm. I do my usual. Listen to Mr. Chibs. Drink some water, take some breaths. When I check the clock again, it is 11 pm. I get up. I walk into another room. I make myself some chamomile tea. And I wait. Sleep will come. I read. 30 minutes in, I go back to bed. As I lie down, I imagine my mom patting my back. It is 12 am. Asleep.