The insight that stress, not genetics, was driving her insomnia and memory loss helped a woman stop worrying and start sleeping again. Judith Orloff said, “Surrender is not about giving up. It is about letting go of the illusion of control.”
At 3:47 a.m., the woman had been awake since 2:13, with maybe ten minutes of sleep before that. This pattern had lasted for years: wake up shortly after falling asleep, check the clock, lie there frustrated, then wake again, check the clock, review the day, plan the next. But one night she thought, “What if I never sleep again? Sleep is important for brain health, and I’ll end up with dementia.” Her mother had dementia in her early seventies. At fifty years old, in perimenopause, she was unable to sleep and already forgetting words and names she used every day.
The insomnia crept in slowly, starting with disrupted sleep from newborn care, then difficulty getting to sleep in perimenopause. Stress hormones fueled her days working in a busy clinic and raising a family. By the time she turned fifty, she was managing on twenty minutes a night of interrupted sleep. She tried changing her diet, natural sleep supplements, sleep specialists, medications, cognitive behavioral therapy, and hormone therapy. Still, she could not recognize the faces of her neighbors, struggled to recall the names of her family, and lost concentration during important presentations. She snapped at her partner and experienced periods of rage.
Then her mother was diagnosed with dementia. They had been estranged for almost twenty years. The news came from a neighbor. The woman was terrified she was losing her memory too. Control was something she inherited. As a child, walking on eggshells around her single mother taught her that control could provide stability and power when things felt unstable. So when the mood changes, sleepless nights, and her mother’s diagnosis piled up, she controlled. She made lists, told her family exactly how things should be done, complained and blamed. She kept strict daily routines and lost all flexibility. She never asked if it was working or if she felt more emotionally stable.
One night she yelled at her children because they needed help with homework. One child was crying, the other had shut down. She heard herself yelling the way her mother used to yell—same words, same tone, same rage. It was heartbreaking. She was supposed to care for her mother across the country, the woman who taught her this pattern, the woman from whom she had been estranged most of her adult life.
During a mindfulness-based stress reduction course, she learned to notice what arose while lying in stillness and scanning her body. It was excruciating to be still. Weeks later, she noticed how she automatically reacted to stressful situations with control. When she saw herself yelling at her children over homework, she realized control was no longer serving her. She was ready to let go and learn more helpful tools.
When she finally let go of seeing her insomnia as a catastrophic problem to control, her sleep improved dramatically. Her memory recovered too. She still forgets things sometimes, but now it is simply a sign that she is overtaxing herself. She no longer spirals or catastrophizes every forgotten word. The fear of losing her memory was doing more damage than any actual memory problem.
The first time she sat with her mother and her mother did not know who she was, she felt present instead of hurt or angry. She saw her mother was confused and frustrated, doing her best with what she had. They had both been running the same program of control. The difference was she had the privilege of consciously giving up control and meeting life with presence and compassion. She did not need to rehash the past or have a big conversation. She just needed to be there. And that was enough.
She learned three things. First, control is fear wearing a mask of competence. When she tried to control everything, she thought she was being responsible. She was actually terrified. Control kept her from connection to herself, to those she cared for, and to the present moment. Second, the body does not know the difference between real threat and perceived threat. Her nervous system was in constant survival mode not because she was in danger but because she was convinced she might be. Learning to regulate the nervous system was about seeing a pattern that was not serving her and consciously deciding to let it go. Third, a person cannot criticize themselves into healing. Harsh judgments added more stress. Compassion for her exhausted self was what finally allowed her to rest.