Falling asleep was never my problem. Head down, out by eleven.

It was the waking up.

Some time between three and half past, my eyes would open. Not groggy — properly awake, as if someone had flicked a switch.

Then the maths. If I get back off now, that's still four hours.

Some nights I did. Most nights I lay there until the room went grey.

No screens after nine. Magnesium. A cooler room. Blackout curtains. Chamomile, then valerian, then the strong melatonin from the pharmacy.

The melatonin did help me drop off — but I was already good at that part. It did nothing for 3 AM, and some mornings I felt heavier than before.

I was solving the wrong half of the night.

Everything I'd bought was aimed at getting to sleep. Not one of them was aimed at staying asleep.

Once I read that sentence, the whole thing looked obvious. I'd spent two years and a drawer full of bottles on the first half of the night, and the half that was actually broken had never been touched.

It's a small thing I take about thirty seconds before bed. Tart cherry, a little magnesium, a few botanicals — nothing I hadn't heard of.

No new routine. No app. No giving up my evening.

Week one: woke at 3:40 instead of 3:12. I nearly wrote it off as chance.

Week two: woke once, rolled over, went back off.

Week four: I stopped checking the clock at all.

That's my experience. Sleep is personal and I'd never promise you the same.