At 3am, I should be asleep. Why not revisit my biggest regrets instead?​on February 22, 2025 at 8:30 am

A perfect window to take stock of all the terrible decisions you’ve made in the past and the many horrors that still lie ahead.

​A perfect window to take stock of all the terrible decisions you’ve made in the past and the many horrors that still lie ahead.   

Opinion

Thomas Mitchell

Culture reporter

February 22, 2025 — 6.30pm

February 22, 2025 — 6.30pm

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Seven years ago, I mispronounced the word Arkansas at a fancy lunch hosted by a US tourism company. Instead of saying aa-kuhn-saw, I said it as if someone had asked me where The Wizard of Oz was set, and I needed to pause before answering: “Ah? Kansas.”

Naturally, everyone at the table laughed; someone even made a Dorothy joke – “I don’t think we’re in AhKansas any more, haha!” – I swore never to speak again, and then we all moved on. At least, I thought I had until my brain decided the ideal time to revisit this nightmare was last night (this morning?) at the ghastly hour of 3am.

Did you know the average person blinks 17 times a minute? I did. Because I Googled it at 3am.
Did you know the average person blinks 17 times a minute? I did. Because I Googled it at 3am.Credit: Michael Howard

For unclear reasons, this is the window we consistently reserve for interrogating our past mistakes. With bedtime a distant memory and daylight an eternity away, something deep inside tells us that we should definitely not go back to sleep but rather torture ourselves with a traumatic trip down memory lane.

This can take many forms. A montage of your most embarrassing moments, a catalogue of every bad decision you’ve made, complete with obsessing over what your life would be like if you’d done something different. My personal favourite is rehearsing entire conversations with people who have wronged me, only to realise in the morning that I would sound completely insane.

Once I’m done with the past, I move on to the future. It’s only 3.45am, meaning I have at least two solid hours for catastrophising.

Depending on my mood, I either cycle through a few regular topics – money, career, whether that dull pain in my stomach might be a cluster of tumours – or focus on an existential crisis to mix things up. They say time flies when you’re having fun, but it really flies when you’re calculating how many weekends you have left if the average Australian man dies at 81, and you are currently 35. (It’s 2392.)

Given that almost everyone I know seems exhausted all the time, this vicious wake-and-worry cycle seems illogical, yet experts claim it’s pretty standard. In the early morning hours, our core body temperature rises, sleep drive is reduced, the flow of melatonin is edging off, and the levels of cortisol (the stress hormone) begin to increase.

We’re primed to stir, which is why experts recommend that you absolutely shouldn’t pick up your phone or check the time. Unfortunately, this two-for-one mistake is easy to make as I reach down the side of my bed and pick up my phone, which just so happens to double as an enormous clock.

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The giant numbers tell me it’s now 4.30am, as good a time as any to get a head start on my daily screen time. Growing up, I always harboured a fantasy of hiding out and spending a night in a shopping mall, running around my favourite stores when everyone else was home asleep – this is precisely how it feels to scroll Instagram in the early hours.

Wow, Mark Wahlberg eats, prays and gyms a lot.
Wow, Mark Wahlberg eats, prays and gyms a lot.Credit: Getty Images

Totally alone, you are free to silently float through the feed, buoyed by the illicit feeling that you’re somewhere you shouldn’t be.

The only person who seems to always be awake with me is Mark Wahlberg. By 4.30am, Mark has already worked out twice, had a disgusting breakfast of boiled chicken and broccoli, prayed for a whole hour and is now back online, encouraging his pathetic followers (me) to get to the gym.

Annoyingly, Mark has the right idea; at some point, we must consider gym. It is, after all, now 5.08am. Undoubtedly, if I could force my body upright, into workout clothes and onward to the gym, I would feel better. And I don’t just mean better about myself, but better than everyone else.

But having been awake for over two hours, getting up feels like giving up. Sorry to Mark, but nine times out of 10, I roll over and decide to give sleep One Last Shot. It’s a ludicrous exercise, as if lying still with your eyes screwed shut may finally fool your body into doing what you want.

It’s worse still when you have someone sleeping soundly next to you. Throughout this ordeal, my wife Kate has barely stirred, and while I am not proud to admit it, I know at that moment I’ve never resented her more.

How dare you sleep deeply when I am staring at the ceiling?
How dare you sleep deeply when I am staring at the ceiling?Credit: Jim Pavlidis

About 6.30am, our son starts talking to himself, the birds begin to sing, and the rest of the world wakes up. It’s only then that Kate rolls over, removes her sleep mask and hits me with the words that will haunt me all day: “God, I’m so tired, feel like I barely slept.”

Find more of the author’s work here. Email him at thomas.mitchell@smh.com.au or follow him on Instagram at @thomasalexandermitchell and on Twitter @_thmitchell.

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