Night 1:
Two gummies at 9 PM. Went to bed at 11. Fully expecting to see 3:17 AM on the clock again.
I woke up to my alarm at 6:30.
Checked my phone. It was actually 6:30. I had slept straight through. First time in two years.
My wife asked if something was wrong.
"I slept. The whole night."
She stared at me. "Your face looks different."
She was right. I didn't just sleep. I felt recovered. First time in two years I woke up and actually felt rested.
Day 3:
I woke up at 3:12 AM. Old habit.
But instead of the usual — brain instantly on, thoughts racing about nothing — there was just quiet.
No surge. No spinning. Just calm.
I rolled over and fell back asleep in minutes. I'd forgotten that was possible.
Day 7:
Seven straight nights of real sleep. Everything changed.
Brain fog? Gone. Muscle tension in my neck that kept me tossing all night? Gone. The 2 PM wall where I'd zone out and lose the rest of the day? Gone.
My business partner pulled me aside after a client call.
"You were sharp in there. Like the old you."
The old me. That hit hard. I'd been running at 60% for so long I forgot what 100% felt like.
Day 10:
Saturday basketball. Usually by the second game my calves would lock up. I'd limp off the court.
This time — nothing. No cramps. Played four games. Felt like I was 30 again.
That night I slept 8 hours straight. Deep. Restorative. My wife said she didn't hear me toss once.
Day 14:
Two weeks in. Sharper at work. Making decisions fast again. My team noticed.
More patient at home. My son spilled water on my laptop. Six weeks ago I would have lost it.
Instead I grabbed a towel. "Accidents happen, buddy."
He looked at me like I was someone else. He was right. High cortisol had turned me into an exhausted, foggy, short-tempered version of myself. Once it dropped, the real me came back.