Last night I made a terrible decision. And by terrible, I mean the kind of decision where you think, “I’ll just close my eyes for a minute,” and suddenly it’s three hours later and your husband is shaking you awake like, “Ma’am… your meds.”

I’d been prepping nonstop for the Busy Brain Pantry launch next weekend — rolling cookie dough, freezing cookie dough, questioning my life choices while making cookie dough. I even tried my hand at cinnamon rolls. Not just any cinnamon rolls… brioche cinnamon rolls. The kind that make you feel like you should be wearing an apron embroidered with ‘I Bake, Therefore I Am.’ They’re extra work, but honestly? Worth it. Future customers, prepare your taste buds.

Of course, I had a few recipe fails along the way. A couple batches that looked like they needed thoughts and prayers. A few pivots. A moment where I questioned whether I should just sell granola bars instead. But by 7 PM, everything was finally sorted and I was exhausted. Like, “I could fall asleep standing up in the pantry” exhausted.

So I laid down thinking I’d rest for a bit, get up, eat something, shower, and go to bed like a responsible adult.

Narrator: She did not get up.

I passed out cold until 10:30 PM when my husband woke me up to hand me my night meds like he was delivering a sacred offering. He never lets me miss them — because, in his words, “We don’t need an unmedicated Christal running around.” Fair.

And then… I was awake. Wide awake. Brain-on-a-trampoline awake.

I tossed and turned for a few hours before giving up entirely. So I got up, chatted with my daughter, watched TikToks, cried a little because this porch stand launch has my nerves doing cartwheels, and then decided, “Fine. If I can’t sleep, I’ll be productive.”

So I made strawberry jam.
Tried out bread recipes.

Made biscuits and gravy for breakfast.

Basically ran a whole Pioneer Woman episode before sunrise.

And even though it’s a holiday, I promised I’d work my corporate job today… so here I am, still not tired, still running on pure mania and brioche fumes.

Until I get in to see my doctor and get my meds adjusted, I’ve decided that on nights when sleep refuses to participate, I’m just going to ride the wave and get things done. I thought maybe working off the energy would help.

It did not.

So tell me or just think it to yourself what do you do when your brain decides sleep is optional and productivity is mandatory?

Because apparently my coping mechanism is “accidentally run a bakery before dawn.”

And on a more serious note, today I’m holding space for all those we’ve lost this Memorial Day and wishing everyone a moment of peace.