Sleep story: an attic room, when you have been on screens all day — for jet lag

The bed is pushed into the low corner, which makes it feel like a den. A carrier bag of shopping is still on the chair, unpacked. The rain on the roof tiles is much closer and louder up here than anywhere else in the house.

The room is in the roof, and the ceiling slopes so steeply that you have to duck near the window. The radiator is small and makes a ticking sound as it cools. There is a box of things under the eaves that nobody has opened in years.

Now feel your whole body at once, lying here, being held up. Your eyelids can be too heavy to open, and that is fine.

Let your palms open if they were closed. Feel the weight of the blanket on your legs.

The air up here is warmer than downstairs and smells of old wood. There is a dormer window with a deep sill, and a mug left on it from last night.

Your ankles can go loose now. Let your shoulder blades spread out and drop.

Let your thumbs rest where they landed. Feel one shoulder go heavy, then the other.

The lamp is on the floor beside the bed because there is no room for a table. The roof is holding, and the rain is outside, and that is the whole arrangement.

If a worry shows up, name it quietly and let it sit beside you. Notice if you're being hard on yourself about any of this.

Your elbows can stop being hinges for now. Feel the weight of your head on the pillow.

Just the breath. Let your attention settle somewhere low, like your feet.

Let the sound of this go soft at the edges. Let the thoughts come and go without you getting up to answer. Leave it there.

After a day of screens, the eyes and the shoulders need this first.

The room is dark, the day is finished, and nothing is required of you.