Sleepless in Delaware: When "Too Much Coffee" Was Actually a Chemical Storm
In a state as small as Delaware, everyone seems to have an opinion. We live in a place where you can drive from the top of the Brandywine Valley to the bottom of the beaches in two hours, and word usually travels even faster than that. In a small community, people like simple explanations for complicated problems.
For years, my problem was sleep—or rather, the total lack of it. And in the eyes of everyone around me, the culprit was obvious: the caffeine.
The "Caffeine Addict" Label
"Maybe if you didn't have that third cup of coffee," they’d say. Or, "It’s the soda; you’re just overstimulated."
I leaned into the label because it was easier than the truth. It was socially acceptable to be a "caffeine addict" in a state filled with busy commuters and students. It was a quirk, a personality trait. But inside, I knew that no amount of coffee could create the electric, buzzing hum that kept me awake until 4:00 AM. I wasn't just "wired"; I was vibrating on a frequency I couldn't turn off.
The reality was much more complex than a Dunkin’ order. While everyone was pointing at the mug in my hand, my brain was dealing with the undiagnosed duo of ADD and Bipolar Disorder.
The Hidden Mechanics of the Mind
When you have ADD (Attention Deficit Disorder), your brain is constantly seeking stimulation. For me, caffeine wasn't actually a stimulant in the traditional sense; it was a desperate attempt to "level out" a brain that couldn't focus. I wasn't drinking coffee to get hyper; I was drinking it to feel normal.
But then, enter Bipolar Disorder.
In a small state like Delaware, life can feel quiet and rhythmic. But inside a Bipolar mind, the seasons change regardless of the weather outside. The sleepless nights weren't "coffee jitters"—they were hypomania. It was a surge of creative, restless energy that made sleep feel not just impossible, but unnecessary. Then would come the crash, where no amount of caffeine could lift the heavy fog of depression.
Life in the "Small Wonder"
There is a specific kind of isolation that comes with being mentally restless in a place as steady as Delaware. When you're struggling with undiagnosed disorders in a small community, you often feel like you’re "too much" for the environment around you.
You see the same people at the grocery store, the same faces at the local park, and you start to wonder: Is everyone else really this calm? Am I the only one who can’t turn their brain off?
Dropping the Label
Getting a diagnosis changed everything. It took the blame off the caffeine and put the focus where it belonged: on brain chemistry. I learned that my "sleeplessness" wasn't a failure of willpower or a byproduct of a bad habit—it was a symptom of a brain that just works differently.
Today, I still love my coffee, and I still love this small state I call home. But I no longer let people use "caffeine" as a shorthand for my mental health. Understanding the intersection of ADD and Bipolar has allowed me to finally find the quiet that coffee never could provide.
If you’re in the First State (or anywhere else) feeling like you’re "too much" or wondering why you can't just sleep, stop listening to the easy explanations. The truth might be more complex, but it’s also the only thing that will lead you to the shore.
