staceybooks

It’s 1:15 a.m. on a Saturday. I’m in a hotel room. Alone. I should be asleep, because that’s what people with functioning nervous systems do after a long day…but instead, I’m staring at the ceiling, arguing with my own brain.

I was so proud of myself earlier. I fully embraced the introvert lifestyle. I avoided people like they were survey takers at the mall. I didn’t answer texts. I didn’t smile at strangers in the elevator. I sank into the quiet like a warm bath. It was beautiful. But the moment I hit that sweet spot of silence, my brain clocked in for the night shift.

Suddenly, I had ideas. Not just little ones, but full-blown let’s reinvent your entire life kind of ideas. First thought? Let’s build two websites. Naturally.

Because what better time to become a one-woman tech startup than after a sleepless night in a hotel robe?

The idea struck around 1:15 a.m., and by 11 a.m., I was fully in. Not thinking, doing. I mapped out pages, picked fonts, debated over which shade of beige screams “I have my life together,” and uploaded images like I was launching a Fortune 500 company. By 7:30 p.m., both websites were done. Live. Built. Because apparently, I don’t rest, I execute.

All while questioning if a virtual assistant could maybe do my forgotten taxes. Could they run my personal social media, too? What about my husband’s business? Because now I’m thinking he really needs to fire his bookkeeper, tax accountant, and social media manager.

Oh wait. That’s all me.

Perfect.

And while I’m spiraling about being everyone’s unpaid full-time employee, let’s go ahead and toss in some body image insecurities. Add a dash of “Does my husband really love me or is he just afraid of his QuickBooks password?” and you’ve got the perfect late-night brain stew.

This is what it’s like living inside my head. A nonstop carousel of self-doubt, overachievement, forgotten laundry, and impulse-led ambition. I’m competing in the mental Olympics every single night and losing most of the events with enthusiasm and glitter.

Some of it makes me laugh. Like how I haven’t returned phone calls in a week but built two websites in a day. Some of it makes me tired. And some of it? Some of it makes me want to take a nap in the middle of a HomeGoods just to reset my nervous system.

But I’m still here. Still trying. Still showing up in this beautifully chaotic, occasionally dysfunctional version of life. Still wondering if “moist” is the worst word in the English language or if “pivot” has officially dethroned it since 2020.

So if you’re lying awake at an unreasonable hour, juggling body image issues, emotional spirals, taxes, relationship doubt, and the urge to start a business you didn’t plan…welcome. You’re not alone.

We should start a club. Meetings are held at 1:15 a.m. Dress code: messy bun, mild panic, pajamas optional.

No judgment. Just vibes.