I recently had a bout of insomnia, waking up in the middle of the night for a few hours. I’m not sure why. It could have been from within, hormones, or old stories that are coming up. Or it could be from without – the energy of all that is happening in this world is affecting me. (that would be so surprise!) Or a combination of both. I don’t know.

What I do know is that it triggered old stories. I dislike not being able to sleep with a passion. If I let myself go, I can make a way bigger story out of it than it really is. And I made up this a huge story. Poor me. Awake in the night, trolling the house like some forlorn ghost not getting her beauty sleep. I was quite ridiculous, if I may say so myself.

Because really, when I check myself and don’t tell myself a story, it’s quite peaceful in the night. Everyone is sleeping and quiet. I can read, or meditate, and I’ve even gotten myself out of bed inspired to write. It’s pretty sweet. And sure the next day I am not in my best form, but it’s generally ok.

My inner story however is irrelevant to what is really happening. It’s completely exaggerated. It dates from other times in my life when I had trouble sleeping. These inner stories are old. They need to be decluttered so that I can replace them with stories that support me and my life. I’ve been on a roll to declutter both my home and my inner words. Just like I don't need to keep objects that I no longer use or love in my home, I don’t need to keep inside me words and stories that no longer serve me.

Think of it like this. My old insomnia story is like an old CD with music that I no longer like or need. But this CD starts playing on its own whenever it decides. That’s all it is. An old CD that starts playing on its own, and it plays and plays and plays the music, stuck in a loop, until I notice and turn it off.

Esther Hicks calls that kind of self-talk sloppy. That made me laugh. That’s exactly what I’m inclined to do in the middle of the night when I can’t sleep. My self-talk is super sloppy. Meaning that I’m not taking care of it, I’m not managing it. I’m just letting it be whatever it wants to be and going along for the ride – which isn’t very pleasant and frankly a waste of my time and energy.

I know that no good comes out of sloppy self-talk, so as soon as I notice, I switch to another voice because that’s a power that I have. We all have that power. And I’ll be honest here. When it comes to insomnia, this is not as easy task for me. I keep having to switch voices again and again and again. But in a way, it’s good practice, like doing your scales on the piano. It’s also a good benchmark of the work and healing I still need to do around my self-talk.

I remember that I’m not the voice who’s distressed about not sleeping. I am the witness to it. I am the one listening to it. And I can choose to give myself love and compassion, and to stop listening to this broken old CD that’s telling a story that’s no longer true.

There's freedom in this and inner peace.

So goodbye old, irrelevant story. I’m decluttering you. I’m thanking you for your service, and letting you go so that I can replace you with a story about what a good sleeper I am, and how I always get the sleep that I need. And when I am awake, it's a positive story about how lucky I am to have this quiet space and time all to myself.

What old stories do you think you can do without? In my free self talk course, you can learn how to declutter old messages that no longer serve you and replace them with empowering and supportive self talk. Sign up here if you're ready to ditch old inner stories: https://selftalklove.lpages.co/self-talk-love-free-5-day-course/

My self-talk:

I can declutter my inner words, I can declutter my self talk.
I don’t need to carry around all the stories that have been following me for years.
I decide what stories play in my head. I have that power.
I am not the voice inside who is worried. I am the one who listens. And I can choose to listen to another voice, and another story.
I am not controlled by sloppy self-talk.
I give myself love and compassion no matter what story I’m telling myself.

Thanks for reading.
With love,

Maryse