For the women who didn't wait for menopause to suffer restless nights
By Claire L.
Supported by Élise & Sarah, founders of Ceceloom
Some of us didn't suddenly become insomniacs at 48.
We were already lying awake at 16.
Heart racing in the dark. Mind spinning through everything wrong with the world, with us, with tomorrow. We told ourselves it was anxiety. Growing pains. Maybe we were just "sensitive."
But here's what nobody said out loud:
Some of us have never really known what it feels like to rest.
Not the deep kind. Not the safe kind. Not without waking up more exhausted than when we closed our eyes.
When sleeplessness becomes your oldest friend
Maybe this sounds familiar:
You fall asleep from pure exhaustion, not peace.
You actually dread bedtime because it means facing the battlefield of your own mind.
You wake up tired, no matter how many hours you technically "slept."
For decades, you've been handed the same advice: meditate, breathe deeper, turn off screens, light a lavender candle. You've tried everything. You've blamed yourself for not being able to do something so basic.
And still, night after night, sleep feels like something that happens to other people.
Then menopause arrives. And the war gets louder.
Now your breasts ache like they're carrying stones.
Your skin burns from the inside out.
You wake up drenched, heart hammering, wondering if this is what dying feels like.
The sleeplessness you've carried for decades isn't new. But now it has company. Now your body has joined your mind in this nightly rebellion.
Insomnia grew fangs.
It's no longer "just in your head." It's in your chest, under your skin, soaking through your sheets.
This isn't just about sleep. It's about never being held.
The wellness world is obsessed with selling us rest.
Weighted blankets that promise to hug your anxiety away. Apps that whisper you to sleep. "10 simple steps to better sleep tonight."
But what do you offer someone who's been tired since middle school?
What do you say to the woman who's spent thirty years wondering if she's broken because she can't do something as basic as sleep?
You don't promise her another miracle cure.
You meet her exactly where she is.
In the 3 AM darkness.
With something that doesn't pretend this is simple.
That's why Ceceloom exists.
Not to erase your history with sleeplessness.
Not to fix decades of restless nights with one purchase.
But to offer something honest, finally.
A soft embrace that doesn't squeeze the breath out of you.
Support that understands tender skin and sensitive flesh.
No underwires digging into ribs that already feel bruised by life.
No elastic bands cutting into shoulders that carry too much.
Just one thing, at last, that whispers:
You are worthy of gentleness.
Even at 3 AM.
Even when you're tired of being tired.
Even when rest feels like a foreign language you'll never learn.
Your body has been asking for this tenderness for years.
We finally listened.
Claire L.
Insomniac since 1987. Writing so you know you're not alone in the dark.
