A Creative Practice For Grief-Related Sleep Issues
Get curious about your relationship to sleep to ease the pressure
I can’t remember a time when I didn’t have issues with sleep. Usually it’s insomnia, but after dad’s death, I couldn’t get enough of it.
Turns out hypersomnia or oversleep isn’t studied as much as lack of sleep in the grief space. Most people struggle with insomnia during bereavement so focus sits there.
And when I’ve coached people with sleep issues, the solution often begins hours before we even get into bed.
Sure sleep hygiene matters, the habits, environment, routines and so on.
But through my years of sleep disruption, I discovered something deeper that most people don't talk about: the connection between grief and safety.
Grief-related sleep increases our need for safety
How we think about sleep has a big influence on how easily it happens.
And during a session with sleep expert Dr. Nerina Ramlakhan, when I was an inpatient at The Priory some years back, I realised how important feeling safe is to getting quality sleep.
Deep grief after loss feels like a physical and mental assault. To our emotions, our body, our sense of who we are.
It changes how we perceive the world at a fundamental level.
Doesn’t sound very safe, does it?
So no wonder we struggle with sleep, either staying asleep, or staying awake when we’re overwhelmed.
My thoughts in deep grief ranged from thinking I might die soon, or how delicate life actually is.
I became scared of life in a way I hadn't expected.
Suddenly, the background hum was a feeling of dread and not knowing what the future would bring.
Of course our ancestors would need to feel safe enough to nap and rest when living in more dangerous environments.
But modern threats tend to come from within, and grief makes us feel fundamentally unsafe in many ways.
Those anxious thoughts, and overthinking loops. I remember being distracted by the ways I'd “let dad down” and didn't make the most of our time together.
That time I'd missed his calls when he came to have lunch near the office. How I took his thoughtful gifts for granted and had a go at him for spending money on me.
Now just thoughts and ideas with no resolution or off switch.
So even though we might be physically safe in our beds, our minds and bodies still register threats after a loss because the world has shifted beyond recognition.
I often turn emotional confusion inwards and blame myself for how I respond.
But self-blame doesn’t help, and ramps up the stress and threats we feel.
Instead, self-compassion, reducing pressure and sleep expectation weirdly improves it over time.
So instead of beating yourself up for having disrupted sleep, get curious instead.
Explore your relationship to sleep, not the sleep
Art and creativity have always helped me make sense of the world. Or helped me express what I couldn't say in words.
And after losing dad, creativity brought me back to life after I'd descended into a dark, lonely pit of grief.
Training as an art-based coach deepened my appreciation for how powerful art and mark-making are in shifting our emotions and world views.
I love how acceptance-based approaches to sleep focus less on forcing rest, and more on changing our relationship with the night.
So when we drop pressure on ourselves and soften the struggle and frustration, sleep often follows.
But that isn’t the actual goal. The goal is entering the night with less fear and more care.
A gentle creative practice for difficult nights
So how do you actually explore that relationship?
For me, art and creativity help, not because I'm trying to 'fix' my sleep, but because it's a way to be with the difficulty differently.
Especially when words don't come.
It’s a way to soften your relationship with the night, for less pressure, less struggle, and a little more room to rest, even if sleep doesn’t come.
Here's how.
And:
Then:
Before you start (2–3 minutes)
Find a quiet spot where you won’t be interrupted.
You don’t need to do this at bedtime, earlier in the evening is often better.
Grab a piece of paper and a pen, pencil, or anything you like to draw with. You don't need fancy cartridge paper. A biro and A4 pad is enough if that's all you have.
There’s no right or wrong way to do this.
You’re not aiming for insight, beauty, a work of art or improvement.
Just expression and noticing.
Step 1: Draw your relationship with sleep
Close your eyes and breathe deeply for a few breaths.
Reflect on your relationship to sleep. Allow an image or sensations to appear.
Open your eyes, and on the page, draw or symbolise your relationship with sleep right now.
Not sleep itself, but what it’s like when you reflect on your connection to sleep.
It might show up as:
an object
a figure
a scene
something abstract
Let it be rough. Stick figures or random shapes are welcome.
Don't self-censor, just express.
If you can't see a mental image, focus on what you feel in your body and how to represent that as colours, shapes, textures, marks etc.
Step 2: Add the rules and pressures
Around the image, pause, and write any thoughts or rules that tend to appear at night.
For example, things like:
“I must sleep.”
“Tomorrow will be ruined.”
“I should be over this by now.”
“If I don’t sleep, I won’t cope.”
“I'm so exhausted, I can't function without it.“
Try not to argue with these or try to change them.
Just let them be seen on the page instead of bouncing around in your head in loops.
Step 3: Shift from sleep to rest
Now gently ask yourself:
If sleep didn’t come tonight, what might rest still look like?
Rest doesn’t have to mean total unconsciousness either.
It might look like:
softness
dimming
permission
stillness
lowering effort
drifting
Add something to the image that represents rest without trying or forcing.
Step 4: Choose how you want to be with yourself
One final question that leans into self- compassion:
On hard nights, what kind of person do I want to be with myself?
Write one or two words somewhere on the page.
It could be:
kind
patient
gentle
steady
non-judging
No need to act on it.
Just name it. Externalise it.
When you’re done
Take a moment to look at the page.
You don’t need to interpret it or make meaning from it right now, but insights might come over time.
The act of putting this down on paper is enough.
You've represented what might be a challenging experience, to get some distance from it.
Now this practice won’t guarantee sleep. But by reducing pressure and struggle, it can make nights feel less demanding, and not a personal failure.
Those tired-and-wired nights will still creep in here and there. But being gentler takes the edge off when things are already hard. It offers a different focus.
And that matters more than we think.
P.S. What words, feelings or images come up for you when you reflect on your relationship to sleep? Share in the comments or reply to me directly.