Insomnia Type I – The Restless Initiation

It usually starts the same way: You’re lying in bed, the lights are off, the day is over, and so is your to-do list—or so you thought. But now that the rest of the world has gone quiet, your brain decides this is the perfect moment to draft a grocery list, rethink that text you sent four days ago, remember that weird thing you said at the holiday party in 2018, and of course—solve the climate crisis. By 11:37 p.m., you're negotiating with yourself about how much sleep you really need to function tomorrow. By 12:16, you're trying to count backwards from 1,000 by sevens. By 1:09 a.m., you’ve surrendered to scrolling videos of people cleaning their baseboards or training dogs to speak with buttons. You’ll try again tomorrow.

We’ve all done it—hosted a mental staff meeting at midnight where all the departments show up: Overthinker HR, Regretful Marketing, Future-Worrier Finance, and Existential Dread Creative. And if you’re like most people who suffer from this specific brand of insomnia, it’s not that you’re not tired—it’s that your Yang won’t settle, your nervous system never got the memo, and your internal world is still revving while your body’s begging for park.

The Philosophical Chaos of Midnight Mindstorms

Somewhere along the road to adulthood, sleep stopped being a sacred ritual and started feeling like a waste of time. Hustle culture convinced us that grinding until 2 a.m. is heroic. Netflix lured us into thinking "just one more episode" won't hurt. Emails, side gigs, text messages, doomscrolling—everything screams urgent even when it's not. So we ignore our body's request for silence. We abandon the natural rhythm of yin and yang. And then we wonder why our brains feel like a carnival ride we can’t get off.

But here's the philosophical twist: we don’t just ignore sleep because we're busy. We avoid sleep because it's the only time of day we're left alone with ourselves. No distractions, no productivity, no filters—just you, in the dark, with your thoughts. And for some, that’s the most terrifying part of the day. So we numb it. We medicate it. We outrun it. But the nervous system keeps score, and it will always circle back to collect.

In Chinese medicine, this kind of mental spinning—especially at bedtime—is often the result of excess Yang that hasn’t been discharged during the day. It's also tied to Liver Qi stagnation (a fancy way of saying you’re emotionally jammed up and mentally overstimulated) or Blood deficiency (meaning your body lacks the resources to anchor your spirit, or shen, when the lights go out). Your mind isn’t broken. It’s just unresolved.

You don't need a diagnosis to feel that truth. You already know when your sleep struggle is mental, not physical. You know when the thoughts racing through your head at midnight aren’t urgent—they’re just persistent. But Chinese medicine doesn’t just shrug and say, “Insomnia.” It asks: Why can’t you let go? Where is your energy trapped? What story are you still telling yourself?

This is where healing begins. Not with a sedative. Not with shame. But with curiosity.

The Liver Works Overtime (and She’s Not Happy About It)

In Chinese medicine, your Liver is the CEO of long-term planning and emotional regulation. But unlike most CEOs, she doesn’t stop working at 5pm. She takes her job very seriously. And when she’s pissed? Nobody sleeps.

Think of Liver Qi like your emotional project manager. She’s in charge of making sure your thoughts flow smoothly, your emotions get processed, and your big plans for the future don’t jam up the whole system. But when she’s stuck—when you’re overworked, under-expressed, holding in resentment, or constantly chewing on to-do lists—she gets cranky. This is called Liver Qi stagnation. And instead of chilling out at night, she starts hosting an all-hands staff meeting in your brain at 11:43 p.m.

Replay that awkward conversation from last week? Check.
Mentally edit a grocery list? Why not.
Draft an imaginary email to your ex’s new girlfriend? Perfect.
Argue with someone who isn’t even there? You bet.

That’s Liver Qi stagnation.

And here’s where it gets worse: the longer she stays jammed up, the more heat she generates. This creates excess Yang—the hot, active, moving energy that belongs to daytime. So now, your body is trying to wind down, but your head is full of steam. Your heart might race. Your eyes feel wired. Your limbs twitch. And your pillow is full of resentment and revenge bedtime procrastination.

Yang doesn’t belong in the bedroom. But without the right movement, release, or emotional processing during the day, it doesn’t know where else to go.

And over time? Your body gets tired of running this mental marathon every night. It starts burning through its internal resources—what Chinese medicine calls Blood. Without enough Blood, the spirit (shen) can’t settle. That’s why even when you’re exhausted, you can’t fall asleep. That’s why even when you’re meditating, your thoughts feel loud. That’s why you can sleep for eight hours and still feel like you barely closed your eyes.

You don’t just need rest. You need regulation.

But here’s the good news: the Liver may be dramatic, but she’s also responsive. She calms down when you move your body. When you process your emotions. When you let go of that thing you keep trying to control. When you create a ritual that tells your system, “It’s safe to let go now.”

Want to see what that looks like in real life? Let’s explore how emotional roots—worry, resentment, perfectionism, overstimulation—sneak into your bedtime routine and keep your brain from shutting up. Because until we learn how to release the pressure, we’re just going to keep boiling.

The Lies We Tell Ourselves at Night

Let’s start with a truth bomb: you know what’s ruining your sleep.

That 4pm espresso? No, it wasn’t “half-caf.” You just lied to yourself again and called it “a little treat.”

That scroll through your ex’s wedding photos until your eyes blurred and your soul curled into a fetal position? Definitely not the soothing bedtime story your nervous system was hoping for.

And those melatonin gummies? They’re not magic. They’re adult pacifiers with a slightly fruity aftertaste.

Here’s the deal: most people aren’t clueless about sleep hygiene. They’ve read the articles. They’ve downloaded the sleep tracker apps. Some are even walking around with expensive Oura rings, checking sleep scores like it’s fantasy football for the hormonally imbalanced. But knowledge isn’t the issue. It’s application.

Because when you’re busy, burnt out, emotionally loaded, and too damn responsible for everyone and everything — you don’t need more data. You need permission to let go.

The truth is, people who can’t fall asleep are often the ones mentally holding the whole world together. You’re the planner. The fixer. The one who keeps the family afloat, the business running, the text threads replied to. You’ve learned to anticipate needs before they’re spoken. You handle it all… until your head hits the pillow and your brain fires up like it’s the executive producer of “Anxieties: The Musical.”

You’re not bad at sleeping.
You’re just really, really good at worrying.

And in Chinese medicine, worry, resentment, and mental overstimulation aren’t just feelings — they’re patterns. They disrupt the flow of Qi (especially Liver Qi), create heat in the head (excess Yang), and over time, they deplete your blood — the very thing that should be anchoring your spirit at night.

But instead of exploring that, we tranquilize.

We take sleep aids that sedate but don’t solve. We stare at screens until our eyes droop, hoping exhaustion will trump overthinking. We caffeinate our mornings, sedate our nights, and call it “getting through the week.”

But here’s your invitation: what if sleep became sacred again?
Not something you hack, but something you honor?

Your body doesn’t need more apps. It needs rhythm. It needs safety. It needs you to stop hosting TED Talks in your head at midnight and start treating bedtime like a ceremony — not a collapse.

Rituals > Routines (And Definitely > Random Melatonin Gummies)

Here’s the part where I don’t tell you to overhaul your life in one night. Instead, I want to hand you a few keys. Tools you can try on, test drive, and see what shifts — without judgment, without some guru telling you you’re doing it wrong.

Sleep isn’t about perfection. It’s about permission.
Permission to wind down, to close the day, to hand the wheel over to your body and say, “You’ve got this.”

So if you’re tired of trying harder and still not sleeping better, try softer. Try smarter. Try this:

🔹 Acupuncture Points Worth Knowing (and Loving)

• Liver 3 (Taichong) – the pressure valve for your overworked Liver. Use your thumb to massage this point on the top of your foot, between your first and second toes. It’s like a sigh of relief in point form.

• Heart 7 (Shenmen) – located on the wrist crease, pinky side. This one calms your spirit and chills out your “what-if” spiral.

• Yintang – smack between the eyebrows. When massaged gently, it soothes tension, overthinking, and eyebrow furrowing from 2am existential dread.

These aren’t magic buttons. But they’re powerful when used with intention and regularity.

🔹 Herbs That Don’t Knock You Out, Just In

We’re not talking sedatives. We’re talking support.

Chinese herbal formulas can help nourish your blood, cool down that hot Liver energy, and help your Shen (spirit) find its home at night. What that looks like in practice:

• Blood-nourishing herbs for the depleted, dry, burnt-out folks.

• Liver-cooling herbs for the night-time arguer who replays convos like courtroom drama.

• Shen-anchoring herbs if your spirit’s doing cartwheels when it should be curling up.

(And no, I’m not naming brands here. Come see a licensed acupuncturist who will actually match the formula to you.)

🔹 Daily Movement = Sleep's Daylight Wingman

You can’t expect your body to fall into stillness at night if it hasn’t been invited into motion during the day.

It doesn’t have to be CrossFit or a 5-mile run. Take a walk. Do some yoga. Dance in your kitchen like the 90s are calling. Just move. Get your blood flowing and your stress to discharge somewhere other than your brain at midnight.

🔹 Screens-Off is a Love Letter to Your Brain

Look, I get it. Ending your night with a cozy binge-watch or scrolling TikTok in bed feels relaxing — until your eyes are dry, your nervous system is fried, and your brain thinks it’s high noon in Vegas.

Try screens off 90 minutes before bed. I dare you.
Light a candle. Take a warm shower. Read a real book. Better yet — write in one.

🔹 Journaling: The Mental Exorcism You Didn’t Know You Needed

If your brain is full, don’t expect sleep to just sneak in.

Write it out. Dump the thoughts. Scribble the to-do list. Write a letter you’ll never send. Get the gunk out so your mind doesn’t feel like it has to stay up all night as the emotional janitor.

Bottom line? You’re not broken. You’re just living in a chaotic, overcaffeinated, emotionally repressed culture that teaches us to treat sleep like a luxury instead of a birthright.

This isn’t about rules. It’s about rhythm.
Not hacks. But healing.
Not shame. But sovereignty.

Because your bedtime is your boundary. And boundaries — like sleep — are the beginning of freedom.

However, maybe you’ve mastered the art of falling asleep. You’ve dimmed the lights, shut the laptop, sipped your herbal tea, and surrendered to sleep like a pro.

But then—
BAM.
2:37am.
Your eyes snap open like someone pulled the fire alarm in your soul.

No noise. No nightmare. Just… awake.
Again.

Is it your bladder? Your blood sugar? A ghost from your past asking if you ever sent that email?

Or maybe—it’s your body whispering something deeper. Something rhythmic. Ancient. Out of balance.

In Part 3, we’ll go spelunking into the eerie, beautiful world of middle-of-the-night awakenings, what Chinese medicine reveals about that 2–3am Liver/wood time, and how to finally make peace with the witching hour.

Stay tuned.

And as always:

Keep moving, eat something green, and question anything that sounds like a quick fix. Chow! Chow! 🥬✨🌙