Three in the morning: when grief keeps you awake

The clock says 3:07.

You didn’t set an alarm. Nothing made a noise. You just opened your eyes, and there it was. The ache. Wide awake before you were.

You were exhausted when you went to bed. You’ve been exhausted for weeks. And yet here you are again, staring at the ceiling while the rest of the world sleeps.

Maybe you lie there replaying the hospital. The phone call. The last thing you said. Maybe you get up and wander the house, and it’s so quiet you can hear the refrigerator hum.

I wonder how many people are lying awake right now, at this very hour, thinking they’re the only one.

You’re not.

If you can’t sleep after a death, you’re in very large company. And it doesn’t mean you’re falling apart. It means your heart and your body are carrying something heavy, and they haven’t figured out how to set it down at night yet.

Can’t sleep after a death? Why grief steals your sleep

Here’s something that helps a lot of grieving people once they hear it. Grief isn’t only in your heart. It’s in your body.

When you lose someone you love, your body goes on alert. It acts a little like it’s in danger, because in a way it is. Your whole world just changed. Stress hormones stay higher than normal, and those same hormones are built to keep you awake and watchful. So you can be bone tired and still not be able to sleep.

Then the night itself makes it harder. During the day there are phone calls and errands and people. At night there’s nothing between you and the loss. The house is quiet. The mind goes looking for the person who isn’t there.

What the research shows. The Sleep Foundation reports that sleep problems are very common in grief, and that the trouble runs both ways. As they put it, “grief not only disrupts sleep, but poor sleep can make the grieving process harder.” (Sleep Foundation)

That’s important to know. If the days feel heavier than they should, foggy and short tempered and tearful, part of it may be that you haven’t slept well in weeks. You’re not weak. You’re tired. Those are different things.

Keep reading: Why can’t I think straight? Grief brain fog and what helps

A man awake in the wilderness

There’s a prayer in the Psalms written by someone who knew long nights.

The heading of Psalm 63 tells us David wrote it “when he was in the wilderness of Judah.” He wasn’t home. He wasn’t safe. He was far from the place of worship he loved.

And listen to what he says about his nights:

“When I remember you upon my bed, and meditate on you in the watches of the night; for you have been my help, and in the shadow of your wings I will sing for joy. My soul clings to you; your right hand upholds me.” Psalm 63:6 to 8 (ESV)

In Bible times the night was split into watches, like shifts for a soldier on the wall. The first watch. The middle watch. The last one before dawn. When David talks about the watches of the night, he’s telling us he was awake for more than one of them.

He wasn’t sleeping either.

But notice what he did with the dark hours. He didn’t pretend he wasn’t awake. He didn’t scold himself for it. He remembered. He brought God to mind, the way you’d think of a friend you trust. And as he did, he found two things.

In the shadow of your wings. That’s the picture of a mother bird covering her little ones. Close. Sheltered. Warm.

Your right hand upholds me. David says, “My soul clings to you.” That’s the word for holding on tight. But look who’s really doing the holding. It’s God’s hand underneath him.

I love that. On the nights when you can barely hang on, you’re not the only one holding. He’s holding you.

Sleep is a gift, not a test

There’s another psalm that I think tired, grieving people need to hear.

“It is in vain that you rise up early and go late to rest, eating the bread of anxious toil; for he gives to his beloved sleep.” Psalm 127:2 (ESV)

Sleep is something God gives. It’s not a test you pass. It’s not proof of strong faith. Plenty of faithful people have lain awake through grief, and Jesus Himself prayed through whole nights.

So if you’ve been lying there feeling guilty, thinking, If I trusted God more, I’d be sleeping, I’d gently ask you to set that thought down. It isn’t true. You’re not failing God by being awake. You’re grieving. And the God who gives sleep is also the God who sits with you when it doesn’t come.

What actually helps on the long nights

Grief counselors and sleep doctors agree on some simple things, and none of them require you to be strong.

Get up if you can’t sleep. This one surprises people. Sleep specialists say that if you’ve been lying awake for a while, it’s better to get out of bed and go somewhere else. Sit in a comfortable chair with a low light. Read something gentle. Go back to bed when you feel sleepy. That way your bed stays a place for rest instead of a place for wrestling.

Keep a notebook by the bed. When the thoughts start spinning, write them down. The thing you’re afraid you’ll forget. The thing you wish you’d said. The question you can’t answer. Getting it onto paper tells your mind it doesn’t have to hold it all night.

Give the evening a little shape. Same time to bed, same time up, even on hard days. A cup of something warm without caffeine. The TV and phone off a while before bed. It sounds small. Small is what works.

Go easy on the things that seem to help. A glass of wine or a sleeping pill can feel like relief. But alcohol tends to wake you up later in the night, and some sleep medicines raise the risk of falls, especially as we get older. If you need help, that’s a conversation worth having with your doctor, not something to sort out alone at 3 AM.

And tell someone. If you’ve gone weeks barely sleeping, please see your doctor. And if the nights bring thoughts that you’d rather not be here, call or text 988 any time, day or night. That’s what it’s there for.

Keep reading: Taking care of yourself when grief has worn you out

You’re not alone in the dark

Here’s what I want you to remember the next time you open your eyes at 3:07.

The dark hours are when the loss feels biggest. They’re also when you feel most alone. But you’re not. David was awake in the watches of the night. So were Jesus’s friends in the garden, and so was Jesus. He knew what it was to be so full of sorrow that sleep wouldn’t come. He doesn’t look down on your sleepless nights. He’s been there.

And through His death and resurrection, He made a promise that a morning is coming when there will be no more night like this at all.

You don’t have to have your faith sorted out to borrow David’s words. If you’re not sure what you believe right now, you’re still welcome to whisper them into the dark. If you’ve ever wondered what it would mean to know Jesus personally, I’d love to share more with you here.

Keep reading: Where is God in my grief?

Something to try tonight

Write Psalm 63:7 on a card and set it by your bed: “For you have been my help, and in the shadow of your wings I will sing for joy.” If you can’t sleep after a death, try this tonight.

If you wake in the night, don’t fight it right away. Turn on a small light. Read the card once, slowly. Then, whatever you believe, you’re welcome to pray something like this:

Lord, it’s the middle of the night, and I miss them so much. I can’t make myself sleep. So I’m going to rest here, under Your wings. Hold me up until morning. Amen.

The clock may still say 3:07 some nights. That’s all right. You’re not keeping watch alone. Someone else is keeping watch over you.

Blessings,

Pastor Howard