staceybooks

It’s 11:43 PM. I’m in a hotel room in DC. I should be asleep. But here I am, lying in bed while my brain hosts an unscheduled late-night talk show with zero commercial breaks.

My body is tired. My eyes are tired. My brain? Absolutely thriving. It’s decided now is the perfect time to reflect on life choices, create a new five-year plan, remember every awkward thing I’ve ever said, and suddenly care very deeply about whether or not I left the oven on back home.

I tried to relax. I fluffed the pillows until I broke a sweat. Set the AC to “polar vortex.” Stared at the ceiling so long I think it blinked. Still awake. Still thinking. Still hoping sleep will casually wander in like it’s not already 90 minutes late.

The thing about ADHD is that it turns bedtime into brainstorm time. I can’t just lay here and do nothing. My brain is busy solving problems that don’t exist and remembering things I have no use for. Like the theme song to a cartoon I haven’t seen since 1995. Thanks for that, by the way.

I have three more nights in this hotel. That’s three more opportunities to pretend I’m fine while my brain quietly implodes behind the scenes. These sheets are tucked so tightly I feel like I’m sleeping in a tortilla wrap. I’ve debated whether breaking the tuck violates some sacred hotel code, but at this point, I’m ready to fight the fitted sheet for my freedom.

If you’re also lying awake right now, phone glowing, thoughts racing, welcome to the unofficial ADHD insomnia support group. No structure, no solutions, just vibes and existential spirals.

Maybe sleep will come. Maybe it won’t. But at least I know I’m not the only one out here trying to outthink the quiet.

And yes, I did open the minibar. And no, I don’t want to talk about the M&Ms.