It’s 3 a.m. and you’re staring at the ceiling again.
You hit the number. Closed the round. Made partner. Won the thing.
And you’re still awake, wondering why it doesn’t feel like you thought it would.
The inevitable questions show up uninvited, the way they always do when everything finally goes quiet. Why am I doing all of this? Is this really it? What is my life actually for?
And then — because you’re you — you shove it down, roll over, and will yourself back to sleep. Because 6 a.m. is coming whether you’re ready or not, and there’s too much riding on tomorrow to go down that rabbit hole tonight.
So you shelve it. Again.
You’re not alone. Every time I mention this recently, the people around me nod. Quietly. Like I’ve named something they’ve been carrying alone.
Let’s unpack this and make some shift happen.
Here’s what I want you to consider: that part of you isn’t broken. It’s been relegated.
You Trained It to Show Up at 3 a.m.
You don’t have a sleep issue, you have a training problem.
Reserve judgment for a second. What if you’ve literally relegated part of yourself to middle-of-the-night chats?
Think about it. When is the only time in your day that you’re not in execution mode? Not performing, producing, solving, managing?
The middle of the night.
So that’s when the deeper part of you — the part that’s trying to get you attention — gets its window. And it takes it. Every. Single. Time.
You’ve essentially trained yourself to only have this conversation in the dark, half-asleep, when you’re least equipped to actually hear it. And then you wonder why it keeps happening.
It’s the same pattern as the strategic conversation you keep pushing to next quarter. The successor you haven’t actually groomed because sitting with “what comes after me” is harder than just staying in the seat. The next chapter you haven’t let yourself imagine because the current one still pays the bills and feeds the identity.
You know the little dialog box that pops up on your computer and tells you that you need to update something. You keep clicking “remind me later.” And the cost compounds quietly, in the background, until one day the thing you’ve been deferring won’t load anymore — it just freezes, at the worst possible time. Just like waking up at 3 a.m. to a conversation about the meaning of your life and the longing of your soul.
It keeps happening because you keep shelving it.
The Fix That Isn’t Working
You just want it to go away so you can get back to the goals and the things that need to get done. So you do one of two things: shelve it, or try to fix it — as if you’re broken.
There’s the magnesium-melatonin-gummy fix. The no-screens-after-nine fix. The better-sleep-hygiene fix. Maybe even the therapist-for-the-anxiety fix.
Some of it works. For a while.
The question isn’t how do I sleep better.
The question is: what is trying to get my attention, and what does it need from me?
I recently had a publisher contact me about writing a book. A huge opportunity. I made the space, I wrote the proposal, I showed up. They loved it. I didn’t end up getting a contract because my following is fairly small.
No big deal. And I decided I wanted to write the book anyway — a new venture, a way to coalesce my thoughts, something to go with my speaking engagements, etc. So I did what I was trained to do: I got the tools. The plan. The resources. Everything lined up and ready.
And I haven’t touched any of it.
How to make it happen is not my issue. I know how to push through and make it happen. I’ve done that for most of my life. A different way is calling me. There’s a reason that part of me is holding back. Just like the dialog box that pops up on the computer.
It’s not something to be ignored or pushed through. It’s something that needs to be heard, listened to, acknowledged.
Same question: what is trying to get my attention, why, and what does it need from me?
What To Do Instead
The next time you wake up in the middle of the night instead of fighting it or medicating it, breathe into it.
That’s what I’ve been doing every time I catch my mind looping on the book I’ve yet to start. I stop. I breathe into it. I listen.
Breathe into it and start a conversation. Say — out loud or just internally — “I hear you. I’m here. What do you need?”
You don’t have to have an answer. You don’t have to fix anything at 3 a.m. You just have to stop abandoning that part of yourself to the dark.
And then — this part matters — actually show up for it in the morning. Even five minutes. A question you sit with over coffee. A few lines in a journal. Something that says: I meant it. I’m listening.
That’s where it starts.
The 3 a.m. wake-up isn’t your enemy. It’s the most honest conversation you’re not having with yourself.
“Come to the edge,” he said.
“We can’t, we’re afraid!” they responded.
“Come to the edge,” he said.
“We can’t, We will fall!” they responded.
“Come to the edge,” he said.
And so they came.
And he pushed them.
And they flew.”
— Guillaume Apollinaire
The edge is just the thing you’ve been avoiding hearing. Get close enough to listen, and you’ll find you can fly.
If you’re ready to actually answer the 3 a.m. question instead of shelving it again — that’s the work we do inside our community at tslp.life. Come find your people.
Want more?
Listen to Episode 211 of The Soulful Leader Podcast: “The 3am Wake Up Call” wherever you get your podcasts, or watch on YouTube.
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