Hello from the other side… of 2 a.m.

If you’re reading this, chances are you’re also one of the many caffeine-addled, thought-riddled night owls lying in bed wondering how your pillow became a portal to a never-ending mental to-do list. As a publicist, I spend my days crafting perfect press angles, pitching impossible stories, and chasing down clients who think “urgent” means “I’ll respond by next week.” So by the time night rolls around, you’d think I’d be unconscious by 9 p.m.

Ha. Cute.

Instead, my brain lights up like it’s at a Beyoncé concert: “What if you missed an email?” “Did you schedule that embargoed launch?” “What is the meaning of life?” You know. The usual.

In my nocturnal misery, I’ve tried everything. Lavender spray? Check. Meditation apps? Still playing ocean waves on loop as I write this. Melatonin? I think I’m now immune. So naturally, I decided to take the situation into my own hands and invent some… alternative cures. Unofficial, unscientific, and mostly hilarious—but who knows? Maybe one will finally knock me out.

Here are 15 ridiculous, possibly genius “cures” for insomnia from your friendly neighborhood sleep-deprived publicist:

1. Argue with a toddler.

Ten minutes in, you’ll be emotionally drained, questioning your choices, and ready to nap purely from psychological exhaustion. Bonus points if the toddler wins.

2. Count sheep… but make them do taxes.

Nothing dulls the brain faster than imagining a sheep nervously Googling “Schedule C deductions.” When sheep #37 gets audited, you’re halfway to REM.

3. Watch a documentary narrated by Morgan Freeman about the history of lint.

Calming? Yes. Utterly boring? Absolutely. You’ll be out before he finishes saying “polyester blend.”

4. Put your phone across the room and try not to think about it.

The sheer mental discipline of ignoring a vibrating rectangle should wear you out. If not, the inner turmoil will.

5. Pretend you’re in a boring work meeting.

Close your eyes. Picture spreadsheets. Hear the phrase “circle back.” Suddenly, your eyelids weigh 10 pounds.

6. Listen to whale sounds… but imagine the whales are gossiping.

“Oh my god, did you see what Orca wore to the coral reef party?” Soothing and salty, just like your dreams.

7. Read the terms and conditions of literally anything.

iTunes. Insurance. A software update. Doesn’t matter. By paragraph three, your soul starts to detach from your body in protest.

8. Lie in bed and try to remember everyone you’ve ever met.

Start with kindergarten. Somewhere around “that one guy from accounting who always wore sandals,” your brain will give up out of sheer boredom.

9. Stare at the ceiling and give it a TED Talk about your day.

“Hi Ceiling, today I crushed three deadlines and accidentally hit ‘Reply All.’” The ceiling does not care. Eventually, neither will you.

10. Wrap yourself in a blanket burrito and pretend you’re a tortilla.

Tortillas don’t have anxiety. Tortillas don’t answer emails. Tortillas sleep. Be the tortilla.

11. Make a mental grocery list but forget everything by item three.

Eggs… spinach… what was next? Why did you walk into the kitchen again? Exactly. Confusion = brain fatigue.

12. Mentally redesign your entire living room.

In your mind. No budget. By the time you’ve mentally installed that Moroccan tile and replaced your IKEA couch with vintage mid-century modern, you’ll be out cold—or broke.

13. Whisper “you’re doing amazing, sweetie” to yourself over and over.

Kris Jenner voice only. Weirdly comforting. Weirdly hypnotic.

14. Create fake Oscar speeches for yourself.

“I’d like to thank the Academy, my fourth-grade teacher (Mrs. Robinson) who believed in me, and melatonin gummies that almost work.” Cue the sleepy tears.

15. Try to spell ‘accommodation’ correctly on the first try.

You can’t. No one can. Thinking about it will tire your brain faster than an open bar at a press event.

So there you have it—my personal collection of absolutely questionable, mildly helpful, and definitely entertaining sleep “remedies.” Do they work? Honestly, maybe. Or maybe the act of writing this blog post at 3 a.m. was the therapy I needed all along. (Update: still awake. But laughing.)

If you’re one of my fellow insomniacs, I feel your pain. Sleep is elusive, but at least we’ve got humor, imagination, and the ability to name 14 types of throw pillows while horizontal.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go whisper sweet nothings to my blackout curtains and try Cure #10 again. Tortilla mode: activated.

Sweet dreams (eventually),

Your Sleepless Publicist

Starr Hall