Ugh, this was bad.
There were nights when I would suddenly wake after just five hours of sleep, heart racing, eyes wide open, completely alert. Not because of a nightmare, but because my brain had queued up another replay. A mental movie. The same scene on loop. The moment I found out. The look on their face. The messages. The way everything shifted in an instant.
It wasn’t just pain. It was a kind of betrayal that messes with your sleep because your mind refuses to accept what happened. It keeps turning it over, again and again, looking for new angles, trying to make sense of the senseless.
I wish I could tell you there’s a cure. Some silver bullet. But there isn’t. Months later, it still sneaks up on me. That wave of memory, uninvited. And just like that, I’m lying in bed wide awake, one or two hours lost to a loop of resentment and disbelief.
There may not be a panacea, but I did want to share some tips that I found helpful and hopefully you find the same.
Cut Off the Source
This part’s not easy. But it’s necessary. The less you see, the less you think. Every time you text them, stalk their socials, or find yourself talking about them to friends, you’re feeding the machine. The brain logs new material and turns it into more mental movies for future 3AM screenings.
Blocking them, deleting old photos, removing mutual friends who act as messengers — it isn’t petty. It’s self-defence. You don’t owe politeness to someone who shattered your peace. If they wanted access to your life, they should’ve thought about that before they cheated. I took advantage of the rage I felt early on, moving rapidly to tear up every single card I had made, scratching the Telegram chats, and deleting old photos. Of course, I blocked her on every single platform we had ever established contact on, before I deleted her contact.
Change your Netflix password. Block their email address. Go through your apps and delete any reminder of them. Delete their number (but not before blocking them!).
Box up shared items immediately, though personally anything that I could dispose of unilaterally went right into the bin. If possible, rearrange your bedroom furniture. Sleeping in the same setup can trigger memories you’re trying to escape. If you shared a bed, get new sheets. I know it sounds dramatic, but smell memory is brutal and will ambush you when you’re trying to heal. Consider changing your usual coffee shop, gym, or route to work if these were shared spaces.
If you need to communicate for logistical reasons, use proxies – have a trusted family member or friend contact their family or them. Make sure to tell your proxy to never convey anything non-pragmatic like emotional messaging. The point of a proxy is that you want to avoid direct contact that could open an emotional wound before you’re ready.
And don’t fall for the trap of thinking closure comes from one last conversation. It rarely does. Closure doesn’t come from them. It comes from you choosing to move forward without their validation.
Improve your physical environment for sleep
I found my blackout curtains immensely helpful at night to maintain a pitch dark room for sleep. An eye mask works as backup for those nights when even the smallest sliver of light feels intrusive. I also turned on the air-conditioning to keep a cool room, making sure to turn it on way in advance so the room would cool down before bedtime. I stayed away from screens and blue light, opting instead to re-read the Steve Jobs autobiography. I also discovered that earplugs left over from my military days helped block out random sounds that might jolt me awake.
I recommend removing any clocks in your bedroom. Watching time tick by and getting anxious about not sleeping when you can’t sleep makes everything worse. Keep a glass of water by your bed too – dehydration from crying can wake you up, and you don’t want to stumble to the kitchen at 4AM.
I started keeping what I called my “3AM emergency kit” by my bedside: Steve Jobs the book, lavender pillow spray, a journal and pen for brain dumps when my thoughts were spiralling, and a flask with warm chamomile tea for when I needed something soothing. Having these things within reach meant I didn’t have to make decisions when I was already fragile.
Meditating
I’ve never been successful with meditation throughout my life. I read early on that it helps with productivity, but I often got lulled into sleep while focusing on my breathing. When confronted with this recurring insomnia though, I found the soporific effects of meditation immensely helpful.
There are free apps you can download from the app stores which will help to guide you along. Alternatively, look for guided meditation on YouTube. If you’re avoiding screens, just close your eyes, and focus on your breathing. Somehow, this worked better for me than counting sheep.
When traditional meditation doesn’t work, try body scan meditations where you focus on relaxing each muscle group systematically. Progressive muscle relaxation helped me too — deliberately tensing and then releasing muscle groups. There’s also the 4-7-8 breathing technique: inhale for 4 counts, hold for 7, exhale for 8.
Finally, I also visualised myself lying on a beach somewhere, below swaying palm trees and on a nice mat. This has limited usefulness for me, but hopefully it works better for you!
Medication
This one’s personal. Not everyone wants it, not everyone needs it. But if you find that you’re consistently running on fumes, unable to function during the day, and therapy alone isn’t enough, it’s worth having a conversation with a doctor. Aside from some drowsy cold pills I took to sleep in the early days of finding out, I mostly avoided this personally.
Sleep aids, antidepressants, or anti-anxiety medication aren’t a sign of weakness. They’re tools. Sometimes your nervous system needs help settling down after a shock like this. It doesn’t mean you’ll be on them forever — it just means you’re giving your body and mind a bit of relief so you can actually begin to heal.
When you speak to your GP, ask the important questions: What are the side effects, and how long do they typically last? How will we know if it’s working? What’s the plan for coming off them eventually? Are there any interactions with other medications or alcohol?
Exercise
Just going through a punishing regimen of exercise helped to exhaust me physically to go to bed at a regular hour. Walking in a park was great for processing thoughts in a tranquil environment surrounded by nature. Long runs helped to boost my endorphins, while Muay Thai expelled my explosive anger with every punch and concentrated my focus.
Intense exercise should finish at least three hours before bedtime, otherwise you’re too wired to sleep. Morning or afternoon workouts help regulate your circadian rhythm, whilst evening walks after dinner can actually help you wind down your digestion in preparation for bed.
Start small if leaving the house feels impossible. Even 10 minutes of movement counts. Park further away, take the stairs, do jumping jacks during ad breaks. YouTube has brilliant 15-minute HIIT workouts for when the world feels too overwhelming to face.
Therapy
Talking to someone trained to untangle this kind of pain made a difference. A therapist doesn’t just listen. They help you separate the self-blame from the reality. They help you understand that the insomnia, the rage, the obsessive thoughts — they’re normal. You’re not broken. You’re processing trauma.
If you’re lucky, you’ll find someone who creates a space where you can show up exactly as you are, even if that version of you is tired, angry, or numb. It’s not always the first therapist you book an appointment with, so do consider shopping around if you feel any dissatisfaction after a session.
Look for someone who specialises in trauma or relationship issues. Many offer a brief phone consultation for free first so use this to gauge if you click. Ask about their approach and how they would help you in treatment. Depending on your personal goals, you can let them know in advance you have no interest in reconciling.
The first session is mostly background and goal-setting. You might feel worse initially as you process things, and that’s completely normal. Progress isn’t always obvious session to session. It’s okay to cry, rage, or sit in silence. That’s what the space is for.
If cost is a concern, check if your workplace comes with insurance coverage or panel doctors. Online therapy platforms can be more affordable than in-person sessions too.
Let the reel roll, it will empty soon
Healing from betrayal is brutal. And insomnia is just one of the many aftershocks that no one really talks about. But you’re not alone in it. The 3AM rage, the early morning tears, the slow realisation that your body doesn’t trust the world anymore — others have been there too. It’s okay to feel like you’re a bit of a mess – you’ve gone through a tough time, and it’s being compounded by a lack of sleep and peace. Everyone is susceptible to this, so don’t be too harsh on yourself.
Sometimes you have to accept that tonight might be a write-off, and that’s okay. Watch something comforting old shows work well because they’re familiar and not too stimulating. I rewatched The Boys and Suits during the aftermath. Remember that one bad night won’t undo your progress. The key is having multiple tools in your arsenal because what works on Tuesday might not work on Wednesday. Be patient with yourself as you figure out your personal combination of strategies.
It’s okay to still be angry. It’s okay to not be over it yet. But know this: sleep will return. Peace will return. And so will your sense of self. It’s important to be prepared for your progress to not be linear. You will falter. Some days will appear to pass by quieter than the previous, only for you to fall back to the mental movies the next. You need to face this with courage and the awareness that these setbacks are completely normal. Many of us have gone through this process, and the fact is that recovery does happen with time, albeit it being a messy recovery. Even if you feel a sudden lapse back to tears and anger, know that marching on day after day is already progress, even if it doesn’t feel like it.
I still remember the first morning when I woke up, went about my day, and only realised two hours later that I didn’t think about the whole situation. It was a refreshing moment, similar to a sunrise after a long night. I know that one night, you’ll wake up and realise you actually slept through the night. You won’t remember when it stopped hurting quite so much. And that will be a quiet, beautiful victory.
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