A Cure for 3AM Anxiety
Sourdough and Scribbles
There’s something about 3AM that seems to invite overthinking. This morning, I woke up with anxious thoughts swirling—should I send my kids to Montana with Amma (their grandmother) for a week? I imagined the last-minute invitation arriving when she planned to stop by on her way this morning, and I wanted to feel prepared with an answer.
Yet the more I thought, the more questions arose: Should I go with them? Would it be too much, being 36 weeks pregnant and facing a 12-hour drive?
I tossed and turned, weighing the joy of visiting family against the practicalities of our current life—house-sitting responsibilities, animal care, my husband’s work schedule, getting into our homeschool routine, nesting and being very pregnant. An hour later, I still didn’t have a solid answer, but I did have an undeniable need to do something.
So, I got up.
Sourdough for Therapy
In the quiet stillness of the early morning, I turned my attention to the sourdough my kids and I had started the night before. Pulling back the linen towel, I was met with that familiar, wonderful smell of fermentation—a little earthy, a little sweet, like the essence of comfort itself.
There’s something grounding about sourdough, about working with a living thing that responds to care and time. For me, it’s a relatively new endeavor, something I picked up during this pregnancy after Amma gifted me a starter at Thanksgiving. While the bread I bake hasn’t been perfect, it’s been a journey of experimentation and joy.
My No-Stress Sourdough Process
Here’s how I make my sourdough, in case you’re curious—or maybe looking for a low-pressure way to bake:
Start with a Levain: In the morning, I scoop about ¼ cup of my starter into a bowl, mix it with twice as much warm water, and stir in the same amount of flour. I let this sit, uncovered, on the counter all day.
Evening Dough Prep: By evening, my levain is bubbly and ready. I scrape it into a large bowl, add the same amount of warm water, and mix in about 4 cups of flour—pinching it together with one hand until I have a shaggy dough. I let it rest for 20 minutes (or longer, if life gets in the way).
Add Salt: I sprinkle in what I estimate to be 20 grams of salt, splash a little water on top, and squish it into the dough.
Stretch and Fold: Over the next hour or so, I stretch and fold the dough every 15-20 minutes, aiming for 2-4 rounds. If I can’t do them all, I let it be good enough and move on.
Morning Bake: The next morning, I shape the dough into two loaves, let them rest in floured bowls, and bake them in a preheated Dutch oven—450°F for 40 minutes with the lid on, then 5-10 minutes uncovered.
It’s not precise, and it’s certainly not fancy, but it’s satisfying. With each batch, I feel closer to finding my sweet spot—the perfect balance of salt, water, and timing that works for me.
Writing for Grounding
By 5:15 AM, I’d shaped two loaves of bread, let my coffee go cold, and filled up a couple of pages with thoughts. I wasn’t spinning on whether or not to go to Montana anymore. Writing and baking had pulled me out of my anxious spiral and into the present moment.
There’s something deeply healing about creating—whether it’s bread, a journal entry, or even a blog post. It doesn’t have to be perfect to be meaningful.
Finding Peace in the Process
This morning reminded me that sometimes the best way to quiet our minds is to engage our hands and hearts in something tangible. Whether it’s baking bread, scribbling your thoughts, or folding laundry, there’s power in the simple act of doing.
If you’re feeling restless or overwhelmed, I invite you to try it. Maybe bake a loaf of sourdough, write down your swirling thoughts, or just sit quietly with a warm cup of tea. You might be surprised by what you discover in the process.
For me, the morning ended and my afternoon began with two loaves of bread baked, a sense of accomplishment, and a calmer heart. As for Montana? Well, I chose not to frantically pack my bags, and I built out my website annd spent time writing instead.
Your Turn
Do you have a go-to ritual or activity that helps you find calm in a moment of anxiety? Share your thoughts or favorite practices in the comments below—I’d love to hear from you.
With Love,
Shannon Marie
P.S. My Sourdough Experimentation
This morning’s loaves were quite the experience.
The first one?
Well, it looked like a butt. 😂 Not exactly the picture of a perfect loaf, but when I cut it open, I was pleasantly surprised—it was soft, fluffy, and smelled amazing.
The second loaf?
A masterpiece. 🥹 My first ever loaf to actually look beautiful from the outside and the inside. When I scored it and saw how it rose in the oven, I had a little happy dance in the kitchen.
Sourdough has been a journey of trial and error, but these small wins make it so satisfying. Sometimes it’s messy, sometimes it’s magic, and sometimes… it’s both.
