8 hours ago
6
An early bedtime is my number one prescription when things go awry. It’s a reliable comfort through all life seasons, especially when uncertainty is rife and sleep is disturbed.
I’m not ashamed to admit that I spend a considerable amount of time each day thinking about how nice it would be to get into bed. We’ve just passed the autumn equinox which means we’ll light the first fire soon and “hottie season” will officially commence. Yes, my partner of 20 years is handsome but it’s the hot-water bottle that gets preference when the temperature drops, the world threatens to implode and extra cosiness is required.
The psychology of comfort is worth understanding when we face a barrage of daily stress. According to the generalised unsafety theory of stress (Guts), our baseline state is one of anxiety, where we seek safety signals to feel more settled. We are designed to experience and withstand stress because it moves and motivates us but we also know that the chronic stress of modern life stems, in part, from its ambiguity; very few of us have a resilience to uncertainty.
When we can predict what’s coming next and we are concerned only with our small community, we feel safer and calmer – the brain loves predictability. Yet we live a largely online life where we are always accessible, logged on and aware of world events. Every time we scroll we enter a ludic loop – a perpetual cycle of anticipation and uncertainty – and we’re inundated with breaking news alerts that dispel any sense of security.
Sleep is physiological and psychological maintenance, but insomnia – whether it’s hormonally induced or exacerbated by an undercurrent of anxiety – is a frustrating reality for many of us. Enter the “reverse sleep-in”, a phrase used by postpartum doula Naomi Chrisolakis to describe an early bedtime so you can unwind and relax even if sleep is illusive. It’s more achievable than a traditional sleep-in and that’s precisely what we all need right now: simple, actionable comforts to soothe us when everything feels completely out of control.
Comfort is meaningful care that our brain and nervous system responds positively to. When we are warm and feel safe and secure, the hormone oxytocin flows which relaxes us as we navigate the relentlessness of normal life. It also has healing properties, it moderates pain and acts as an anti-stress tonic, essentially managing the cortisol that charges through our system.
The same physiological effects can be experienced when we hug a hot-water bottle, slip into our “comfies”, eat a nourishing meal or tuck our children into bed and make sure they’re snuggly between the sheets. Most parents are militant when it comes to bedtime routines for this exact reason; intentional settling holds the promise of a quiet evening and solid sleep.
Think for a moment about the pure perfection of a freshly bathed child in soft cotton pyjamas, their hair brushed back, not a crumb on their face, the mess of the day washed down the drain to make space for slumber (we pray). There is always a series of steps in this revered ritual: dim lights, hushed voices, the repetitive sentences of a favourite book, milk, lullabies, the soothing comfort of a parent’s presence; rhythmic breath and heartbeat. There are of course the tricky questions, the mulling over fears, and the reassurance that all babies and children seek from the moment they’re born.
We grow up, leave these routines behind and expect to fall asleep immediately after turning off a screen. But no matter our age, we still need reassurance, especially when we feel untethered.
I sip herbal tea that promises a “sleepy time” or I make a luxe magnesium-infused hot chocolate that will probably be the first thing to go if interest rates keep climbing. I plug my phone into the kitchen (because actively separating myself from it is one of the best habits I’ve implemented) and settle into bed with my lamp on and book open. Reading for six minutes has been proven to lower the heart rate and slow the breath; reading novels increases our empathy, strengthens our mettle and brings us back to what matters.
When we can’t control what’s happening in the world, there is some solace in the predictability of a comforting routine and the safe landing of a warm bed. If we think about it long enough, perhaps these simple things are the very definition of a good life.
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Jodi Wilson is a health journalist and author. Her new book, A Brain That Breathes: Essential Habits for an Overwhelming World, is out now.
