Anxiety & Nighttime

Everyone experiences some anxiety, but it is only considered a “disorder” when it negatively affects one’s quality of life. Sadly, that level has been reached by nearly twenty percent of Americans.

An estimated 19.1% of U.S. adults had an anxiety disorder in the past year. Past year prevalence of any anxiety disorder was higher for females (23.4%) than for males (14.3%). An estimated 31.1% of U.S. adults experience any anxiety disorder at some time in their lives (National Institute of Mental Health).

As one specialist puts it, “there’s a very strong, well-documented bidirectional link between sleep and mental health issues like anxiety.” And it can become a vicious cycle: “If you have poor sleep, you’re at greater risk of a mental health issue. And if you have a mental health condition like anxiety, you’re more likely to develop a sleep disorder.”

Those “disorder” figures are only for anxiety passing a problematic threshold. Feeling some anxiety is a normal part of life, even for Christians. (Fortunately, however, we have an Intercessor who alleviates anxiety in our fallen lives.)

Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus (Philippians 4:6-7).

The universality of experiencing anxiety is evidenced by the etymology of the word itself. The Latin anxius simply means troubled or worried (i.e. anxious). 

In his classic Letters to Malcolm: Chiefly on Prayer, C.S. Lewis addresses the negativity associated with being anxious, that actually worsens the problem.

Some people feel guilty about their anxieties and regard them as a defect of faith. I don’t agree at all. They are afflictions, not sins. Like all afflictions, they are, if we can so take them, our share in the Passion of Christ.

So, if most of us admit to experiencing some worry, the question posed by a recent article in TIME is whether the anxiety peaks at night. While not universal, “research has long suggested that, for many people, anxiety symptoms spike and mental health otherwise suffers at night.” While the piece cited several reasons, it left out two causes I consider self-evident.

The article points to studies about how substance abuse and suicidal behavior rise “after midnight,” and how “the racing thoughts that plague many anxiety sufferers are at their worst in the evening.” While I didn’t read the linked research, these statements are simply descriptive of the problem.

As for identified causes, the studies point to our diminished ability to “regulate emotions” as we tire. The issue of isolation is noted as a second factor, since “the rest of the world is asleep.” Further, the lack of daytime distractions may set the stage for “runaway anxiety” as we ponder the “what ifs” of the future. Another logical finding is that anxiety builds as we sleep poorly because we are worrying, which makes us prone to becoming even more anxious.

So What are the Uncited Factors?

First, it seems to me that the darkness of night itself is a major consideration. Since primordial times, night was foreboding. Sharpened wooden or stone-tipped weapons offered little enough defense when we could see predators (beast or human). Our ability to make fires and light candles ignited trifling circles of light that barely penetrated the shadows.

The uncertainty about what lurks in those shadows remains with us today. Just consider how quickly chaos can arise when there are power outages and the “protection” offered by light instantly evaporates.

Related to this is the simple fact that bad things (like crimes), increase during darkness. While many unlawful acts certainly occur during daylight hours, many of the most violent and heinous crimes, such as rape, occur after the sun sets. You can compare many variables at this website

It is simply common sense to recognize we are more vulnerable to violent attack when darkness masks attackers’ identities. The Book of Job vividly describes this lawless predilection.

There are those who rebel against the light,
    are not acquainted with its ways,
    and do not stay in its paths.
The murderer rises before it is light,
    that he may kill the poor and needy,
    in the night he is like a thief.
The eye of the adulterer also waits for the twilight,
    saying, ‘No eye will see me;’
    he veils his face.
In the dark they dig through houses;
    by day they shut themselves up;
    they do not know the light.
For deep darkness is morning to all of them;
for they are friends with the terrors of deep darkness (Job 24:13-17).

While the increased criminal behavior during darkness may have been omitted due to the tacit acknowledgment that it is a factor, my second observation was quite possibly overlooked due to ignorance or prejudice.

The Spiritual Consideration

I am convinced there is a spiritual component to our wariness related to darkness. Even those secularists dismissive of this reality would likely recognize this as a common perception. After all, it is no accident that stories (ancient and modern) depict wicked gatherings and malevolent supernatural events as taking place primarily at night.

The Scriptures discuss this Light/Dark dichotomy extensively. One of the clearest examples comes in the explanation for why sinful people choose to reject the coming of Christ.

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. . . . In him was life, and the life was the light of men. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it. . . .

[Jesus said] “For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life. For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him. Whoever believes in him is not condemned . . . the light has come into the world, and people loved the darkness rather than the light because their works were evil.

For everyone who does wicked things hates the light and does not come to the light, lest his works should be exposed. But whoever does what is true comes to the light, so that it may be clearly seen that his works have been carried out in God” (John 1–3, selected verses).

Because darkness helps mask unsavory behavior, author Dave Jenkins advises people to be vigilant regarding their own temptations. He shares his personal story attesting to his contention that “night time for many men and women is danger time.”

This certainly is not God’s desire for any of us. As “The Godliness of a Good Night’s Sleep” concludes, “sleep, it seems, is no fallen necessity, nor merely a fleshly temptation, but a divine gift.”

In The Screwtape Letters, C.S. Lewis’ brilliant exploration of diabolic strategies, the senior demon advises his protégé, how to rob humanity of this blessing.

There is nothing like suspense and anxiety for barricading a human’s mind against the Enemy. He wants men to be concerned with what they do; our business is to keep them thinking about what will happen to them.

But fortunately, humanity’s first Enemy does not have the final say in the matter.

Even During the Darkest Night

We need never be alone nor despair in the night. In fact, even the trials posed by anxiety can become a pathway to a more intimate reliance and relationship with God.

Perhaps most famously, this concept has been associated in Christian circles with “Dark Night of the Soul,” a poem written by Saint John of the Cross in the sixteenth century. In an upcoming post, we will consider John’s life and the controversial actions which followed his death.

Delicious Words

Have you ever wondered what colors people see when they read what you write? If so, you are not (necessarily) insane. And we’re not talking about coloring your fonts to evoke certain responses.

The fact is, some people honestly do see colors when they read – or hear – particular words.

Perhaps even more oddly, some people actually taste specific words. And the flavor(s) they sense are not necessarily related in any reasonable way. For example, we might think that if someone heard the word “orange,” or saw an orange color, that some psychological trick might cause them to think they can taste an orange citrus flavor. But that’s not how it works. There may not be any fathomable connection at all.

This phenomena is called “synesthesia.” Healthline describes synesthesia as “a neurological condition in which information meant to stimulate one of your senses stimulates several of your senses.” Although they are rare, “synesthetes” are not unique.

A study entitled “Survival of the Synesthesia Gene: Why Do People Hear Colors and Taste Words?” alleges the condition is experienced by 2% to 4% of the population.

While a proven genetic basis for synesthesia remains elusive, the phenomenon tends to run in families, as ∼40% of synesthetes report a first-degree relative with the condition. Pedigree analyses of synesthesia suggest high transmissibility from parent to offspring . . .

I have a confession to make. Through the years I’ve met a handful of people who told me they could taste colors, or the like. They were describing to me their sincere experiences of synesthesia. Unfortunately, since I’d never read about the validity of the phenomenon, I dismissed it. I assumed that the more playful of the advocates were trying to trick me. And I attributed the other cases to people tricking themselves, due to odd imaginations or to gullibility manipulated by the power of suggestion.

Mea culpa. The awkwardness was my fault. I am sorry for any hurt I may have caused. I, of all people, should have accepted their testimony. You see, for many years I was stunned that people voluntarily ate cilantro. To me, the herb tastes like soap – exactly like picking up a bar of soap and taking a big bite. Everyone laughed and me. But one day I met someone whose eyes widened before they declared “me too!”

Britannica explains the problem: ‘for those cilantro-haters for whom the plant tastes like soap, the issue is genetic. These people have a variation in a group of olfactory-receptor genes that allows them to strongly perceive the soapy-flavored aldehydes in cilantro leaves.” The frequency of this “genetic quirk” varies by ethnicity. Trust me, if you knew what it tastes like to “us,” you would never force the unpalatable cleanser on anyone but your worst enemy.

You see, because of my dismissal of their revelation, I could very well have caused some people to consider themselves defective, or discourage them from being open in their lives after that time. Healthline describes it this way:

On the other hand, some synesthetes feel that their condition isolates them from others. They may have trouble explaining their sensory experiences because they are very different. Finding communities of other synesthetes online may help ease this feeling of isolation.

Fortunately, on the other hand, “many people seem to enjoy perceiving the world in a different way than the general population.” There are even artistic efforts which attempt to replicate the experience of these unique individuals.

For a simple guide to the numerous types of synesthesia experienced by your fellow human beings (which may or may not parallel animal phenomena), check out this article.

There is a short scene from the film Ratatouille that creatively illustrates the experience of the synesthete, who is, in this case, Remy the rat. (We’ll link to it at the end of the post.)

What about the Inklings?

I don’t believe any member of the Inklings experienced synesthesia. It is possible, of course.

Nevertheless, there are echoes of synesthesia in their works. Consider for a moment the following description of Lewis’ work as a literary critic in C.S. Lewis at Poet’s Corner.

What I want to call attention to here is yet another example of what one might call Lewis’s narrative synaesthesia. . . . I am not arguing that this kind of movement between genres is unique to Lewis – far from it, I think we all do it to some extent, if only in our imaginations rather than on paper. . . .

[Lewis] is a writer whose perceptions just jostle against each other, and are so interconnected that it is almost impossible to separate one strand from the next. These are characteristics more common in the poet than the critic, and not for nothing did Lewis see himself as primarily a poet.

C.S. Lewis could also skillfully energize his fiction with synesthetic elements. An excellent example is found in Voyage of the Dawn Treader. An article on Encyclopedia.com describes it in the following way.

As they sail nearer to Aslan’s country, references to Christ and our heavenly home accumulate quickly. Reepicheep discovers that the water is sweet! Caspian describes the phenomenon with synesthesia, using the terms of one sense experience to describe another: “It – it’s like light more than anything else.”

In the novel itself we see Reepicheep being pulled from the sea, after falling overboard.

“Sweet!” he cheeped. . . . “I tell you the water’s sweet,” said the Mouse. “Sweet, fresh. It isn’t salt.” For a moment no one quite took in the importance of this. But then Reepicheep once more repeated the old prophecy:

Where the waves grow sweet,
Doubt not, Reepicheep,
There is the utter East.

Then at last everyone understood. “Let me have a bucket, Rynelf,” said Drinian [the ship’s captain]. It was handed him and he lowered it and up it came again. The water shone in it like glass.

“Perhaps your Majesty would like to taste it first?” said Drinian to Caspian. The King took the bucket in both hands, raised it to his lips, sipped, then drank deeply and raised his head. His face was changed. Not only his eyes but everything about him seemed to be brighter. “Yes,” he said, “it is sweet. That’s real water, that. I’m not sure that it isn’t going to kill me. But it is the death I would have chosen . . .”

“What do you mean?” asked Edmund.

“It – it’s like light more than anything else,” said Caspian.

“That is what it is,” said Reepicheep. “Drinkable light. We must be very near the end of the world now.”

There was a moment’s silence and then Lucy knelt down on the deck and drank from the bucket. “It’s the loveliest thing I have ever tasted,” she said with a kind of gasp. “But oh – it’s strong. We shan’t need to eat anything now.” And one by one everybody on board drank. And for a long time they were all silent. They felt almost too well and strong to bear it, and presently they began to notice another result.

As I have said before, there had been too much light ever since they left the island of Ramandu – the sun too large (though not too hot), the sea too bright, the air too shining. Now, the light grew no less – if anything, it increased – but they could bear it. They could look straight up at the sun without blinking.

They could see more light than they had ever seen before. And the deck and the sail and their own faces and bodies became brighter and brighter and every rope shone. And the next morning, when the sun rose, now five or six times its old size, they stared hard into it and could see the very feathers of the birds that came flying from it.

Synesthetic Rodents

The dashing Reepicheep is not the only cute little rodent who experiences reality synesthetically. That should come as no surprise, since Rodentia such as mice like our hero, Remy the rat chef and their cousins like beavers and porcupines constitute about 40% of all mammal species. God alone knows how many rabbits, prairie dogs and pikas share these sensory delights.

The aforementioned scene from Ratatouille offers a “taste” of what life is like for a synesthete. Enjoy.