The 3 AM Blues (or how to tame the tiger lurking in your mind)

You probably know the feeling. It’s three am and a wave of thoughts rolls in.

The thought police—who diligently steered you away from the worst of your doomsday thinking during the day—have gone off duty.

The gates to thought purgatory creak open, and a big worry escapes, sending your stomach into a slow churn. (You remember that last Executive Order.)

Concerns that seemed manageable by day now charge at you like a saber-tooth tiger.

You are not alone

I used to think there was something wrong with me because I’d wake in the dead of night, gripped by anxious thoughts. I’d try to wrestle them down, but they would sometimes keep me up for an hour or two. I’d finally fall asleep as the first rays of dawn were entering the bedroom.

Lying there, I’d feel so alone. So stupid.

I’d feel so alone and so stupid:

Conversation with self: This isn’t real. Just let it go. You need sleep. Deal with it tomorrow! 

(Bossing my brain rarely works.) 

I’ve since learned the 3 AM worry hour is common—and there are biological reasons for it. It has to do with hormones, sleep cycles, and brain function.

We wake from a dream, a sweat, or a bathroom run, only to find ourselves gripped by the fear that the world might be burning.

And now that there’s some reality to the burning, it makes sense that our middle-of-the-night worries feel even more intense. We need better tools to meet our 3 AM selves with compassion.

The science behind our sleeplessness

We sleep in cycles, and for many of us, 2–3 AM is a natural transition point—when we’re most vulnerable to waking. If that cycle ends with a disturbing dream, we may wake into a minefield of worries.

At that hour, the prefrontal cortex (aka the thought police, responsible for rational thinking and executive functioning) is snoozing, while the amygdala (home of emotional reactions) stands guard.

The amygdala means well—you never know when a saber-tooth tiger might show up in the bedroom. But without its calm, rational brain-partner, it tends to turn mosquitoes into monsters.

On top of that, around 2–3 AM, our body temperature is at its lowest. Melatonin (the sleep hormone) is high, and cortisol (the stress hormone) is still groggy. That hormonal imbalance leaves us vulnerable. Emotions feel more intense. Perspective is skewed. As cortisol levels start to rise, we may find ourselves panicking instead of calming down.

Managing our late-night fears

I used to try to reason with myself: “It’s not that bad.” Or “This isn’t real.”

But a lot of rage-worthy stuff is happening in the world right now. Some of it is real. Which makes it harder to convince the brain to shut up and go back to sleep.

A good pre-sleep routine can help. You know the drill: wind down gradually, power off the electronics, avoid doomscrolling or watching the news. (I’ve learned to stop my husband mid-rant about current events with a firm, “NOT NOW.”)

And I can’t watch or read thrillers—at least before bed—if ever. Others use them as a distraction, but for me, they just add fuel to the 3 AM fire.

What to do at 3 am

• Have compassion for yourself. At 3 AM, all my flaws feel huge—especially my inability to fall asleep. But we’re dealing with real brain chemistry, circadian rhythms, and a world in upheaval.
• Know you’re not alone. All over the world, people are tossing and turning at their own version of 3 AM. You are not crazy. You are human.
• Seek comfort. At 3 AM, I want my mommy. Failing that, a teddy bear or a favorite pillow. It’s okay to rock yourself to sleep.
• Repeat a calming mantra. I am safe. I have resources. I am loved. Find what soothes your mind.
• Remember: these thoughts loom large right now—but they’re distorted. Some are not real, and others only represent a slice of reality. Most can wait until morning.
• Breathe gently. Use a calming breath practice you like. 
• Visualize something beautiful. Imagine yourself in a lovely, tranquil scene.
• Distract yourself. Read something calm and absorbing, but not exciting. I like The Idiot’s Guide to Drawing—I rarely last more than five pages.
• Try a neural reset. Do a body scan. Gently tense and release your muscles. Pray, chant, hum, or sing—whatever soothes you. I sometimes turn to a childhood prayer. It comforts me. (Hey, it’s my party.)

Other options

• Sleep tapes. Some people swear by sleep tracks—try the Monroe Institute, Advanced Brain Technologies, or relaxing soundscapes on YouTube.
• Get up. Some sleep experts suggest this, but I usually don’t. My body is tired, and at 3 AM, I’m not exactly operating at peak function. I prefer to rest.

Above all, trust that you’ll weather the storm. You’re not broken. The world is challenging, and your brain is doing what brains do in the middle of the night.

It might not be fun to lie awake for a couple of hours, but eventually, you’ll drift off again—or greet the day with coffee and compassion.

And remember: despite the darkness, dawn always comes.

In the words of the wonderful folk singer from Maine, Gordon Bok:
“The sun is always turning toward the morning.”