What Helped Me When I Couldn’t Eat or Sleep

I couldn’t eat or sleep for the whole first year.

I’m not exaggerating. That’s just how it was.

Let’s start with food.
I used to cook all the time when Gary was alive. I was a vegan back then, so there was always chopping, prepping, thinking ahead. But after he died, I couldn’t even open the fridge without crying. It felt like my body shut down around food.

I ordered groceries every week, telling myself this week will be different. I imagined salads and real meals. Then I threw most of it away. The only thing I could really manage was pita and hummus. I could microwave the pita, tear it up with my hands, and dip it. That was it.

That was my meal. Sometimes for the whole day.

I felt so guilty about it. I kept shaming myself, thinking I should be eating better. I should be doing better. But one day, after journaling and reading back through all the harsh things I was saying to myself, I stopped and asked, Would I talk to my daughter like this?

Of course not. So why was I saying it to myself?

I looked at that pita and hummus and realized they have kept me alive. They gave me enough energy to cry. Enough to keep breathing. Enough to stay here.

That’s not failure. That’s grace.

Eventually I started saying thank you to the pita and hummus.

Now let’s talk about sleep.

At first, I was exhausted all the time. Grief wears you out in ways no one tells you. I could fall asleep, but I couldn’t stay asleep. I would wake up in the dark, crying. Or I would cry myself to sleep and wake up puffy and empty.

I tried sleep aids. Valerian root. Melatonin. That helped a little.

But the thing that helped most was creating a rhythm. Not a routine with checklists and rules. Just a rhythm my body could recognize.

Around month two, I started writing Gary a letter each night before bed. Just a little note. What I was feeling. What the day had been like. That small act grounded me. It let me feel connected to him. I’m still doing it now, three and a half years later.

Later I added a gratitude journal. At first it was basic stuff.
I got dressed today.
I made it through work.
The microwave still works.

Then I started writing five things I was grateful I did.
Some days it was, I ate something green.
Other days it was, I went for a walk.
Sometimes just, I didn’t give up today.

Eventually I even made space to write five things I liked about myself. I didn’t always believe them. But writing them helped me look at myself with a little more kindness. On the days I’m being especially harsh, I go back to that. It helps shift my lens from what’s broken to what’s still working.

If you’re in that place where nothing feels okay, where food tastes like nothing and sleep feels impossible, I just want to tell you this.

You are not doing it wrong.
You are grieving. And that changes everything.

There is no perfect answer. But if you find something that works, even just barely works, that is enough. Whether it’s pita and hummus or writing to your person or sleeping in short bursts. If it keeps you here, it matters.

And if you ever want someone to talk to, someone who understands this kind of grief, I offer a free 45-minute call. I call it Holding the Ember: A Conversation of Hope. No pressure. Just a place to say what’s real.

You can sign up here: EmberandBloomCoaching.com