What Late Night Sadness Feels Like, and What I Do When It Hits
Putting words around the melancholy you feel around/after midnight.
It started when I closed my laptop. I fell into an internet rabbit hole that began with reading an in-depth breakdown of Ariana Grande’s relationship with Pete Davidson and ended with Davidson’s Hot Ones video.
I don’t even know how long I’ve been staring at a screen.
Two hours? Three? Four? It’s late, but not so late that if I went to bed right now, I couldn’t still get up early and do it all over again. I question if I want to put tomorrow off and disappear back into the internet for a few more hours. I sit on the couch in the dark, unmoving.
I notice how quiet my house is. I realize the lights have been off for hours, and the only light in the room was my laptop screen. I hear the wind thrashing against the windows and realize I haven’t left the house today. All of these things only occur to me now.
A deep, achy sadness sweeps over me. This is usually the time it happens. Late-night sadness has a way of rushing in to fill up the silence after a long day.
I think of all the things I could have done with the past few hours. I think of the friends I’m struggling to reach out to. I think of what I ate for dinner (cereal and falafel balls). My mind jumps from Pete Davidson to existential collapse in a matter of seconds at this time of night (it’s impressive, really). I blink into the darkness. My body is stiff from sitting in the same position for hours.
I know I should get up, but I can’t seem to bring myself to.
What should I do? Should I open my laptop and get some work done? Should I go to bed? Should I put something on and zone back out? Should I reach out to someone? Should I send out a sad tweet? Should I blame this on the pandemic? Should I try to look on the bright side? Should I let myself cry?
This is where I hear my mom’s advice in my head (that is really what her mom used to say to her): you’re just tired.
I know she’s at least a little bit right. That’s why I opened my laptop back up and wrote this. Now I’m signing off for bed.
Sleep and creative release are the best ways to meet yourself where you’re at.
I say this from experience. Sleep ensures tomorrow keeps its precious vitality, and writing (or whatever is your thing) is a way to capture these feelings without taming them. These things make peace with late-night sadness.
Late-night sadness is its own brand of melancholy.
I know it sucks, but it’s not out to get you. It’s not a monster that comes out only in the dark looking for a fight. Late-night sadness can be a symptom of something bigger, I don’t deny that, but often it’s a sign to take care of yourself.
If you or someone you know has a mental illness, is struggling emotionally, or has concerns about their mental health, here are some resources to get help.
