The Gentle Art of Letting Go: Finding Better Sleep Hygiene
By Grace — The grandmother you always needed. Sourdough, wisdom, and zero judgment. ·
The kitchen clock is ticking a little louder tonight. It’s September, and the Vermont air has that sharp, crisp edge that tells me the seasons are shifting again. I’m sitting at the oak table, a slice of toasted sourdough with a bit of local honey beside me, watching the shadows stretch across the floorboards Tom and I laid down forty years ago.
I’ve heard so many of you lately talking about how the nights feel long. Not in a peaceful way, but in that restless, tossing-and-turning way where your brain decides 2:00 AM is the perfect time to audit your entire life. I’ve been there. After Tom passed, those quiet hours felt like a cavern I couldn't climb out of. But over the years, I’ve learned that sleep isn't something you can force or bully yourself into. It’s a guest. You have to set the table, make the room comfortable, and then wait for it to arrive.
The Ritual of the Sunset
When I was teaching, I had a routine for my second graders that helped them settle down after recess. We’d dim the lights, put on soft music, and put away the loud toys. Why do we think we stop needing that just because we’ve grown up?
Good sleep hygiene isn't about rigid rules or gadgets that track your heart rate. It’s about signaling to your nervous system that the day’s work is done. About an hour before you intend to sleep, start a 'closing ceremony' for your day. Maybe it’s folding a throw blanket, washing your face with warm water, or setting out your outfit for tomorrow. I like to dim the overhead lights and switch to a small lamp. It tells my brain, 'We are moving into the soft part of the day.'
Creating a Sanctuary, Not a Storage Unit
I used to keep a stack of bills and a half-finished knitting project on my nightstand. One night, I realized I was staring at a tax form while trying to drift off. Your bedroom should be a place where your brain feels safe enough to let go of control.
If you can, try to keep the 'doing' things out of the bedroom. No laptops, no piles of laundry, no mounting to-do lists. Keep the space cool—I always crack a window, even when it’s chilly—and keep it dark. If your room feels like a storage unit for your anxieties, your mind will stay busy trying to organize them. Make it a sanctuary. A soft pillow, maybe a lavender sachet tucked into your case, and space to breathe. That’s all you need.
The 'Brain Dump' for the Restless Mind
Most of us don't struggle to sleep because our bodies are tired; we struggle because our minds are holding onto things. When I feel that familiar tug of worry at night, I keep a small notebook—just a plain spiral one—on my nightstand. If a thought pops up, like, 'Did I remember to water the ferns?' or 'I need to email the realtor,' I don't try to solve it. I write it down.
Once it’s on paper, it’s safe. It’s not going anywhere. My brain can stop 'holding' the thought because it knows where to find it in the morning. It’s a simple trick, but it’s saved me many hours of staring at the ceiling.
When the Silence is Too Loud
Sometimes, the house is just too quiet. For years after Tom left, the silence was the hardest part of going to bed. If you find yourself in that spot, don't fight it with white noise if that feels artificial. Sometimes, I’ll listen to an audiobook—something I’ve already read, so I don't feel the need to stay awake to see what happens next. A familiar story or a gentle podcast with a calm voice can act like a lullaby. It gives your mind a gentle tether to hold onto so it doesn't drift into the dark corners of the day’s regrets.
Be Kind to Your Morning Self
Here is the most important thing I can tell you: if you don’t sleep well, don’t spend the next day punishing yourself. Don't drink four cups of coffee as a penance, and don't spend the day telling yourself you’re 'ruined.'
If you have a rough night, treat yourself like you would a child who had a nightmare. Be gentle. Maybe you take a slightly longer walk, or you go to bed fifteen minutes earlier the next night. You aren't failing at sleep; you are simply human. Some nights are for resting, and some nights, it seems, are just for thinking.
Try to keep your wake-up time consistent, even if you’re tired. It helps anchor your internal clock. But let go of the pressure to be perfect. The goal is rest, not perfection.
I’m going to go turn down the covers now. The air is getting colder, and I think I’ll put on that heavier quilt tonight. How are you sleeping lately, dear? Do you have any little rituals that help you find your way to rest? Pull up a chair and tell me—I’m always here to listen.