The first time I began to associate sleeplessness with depression was after my aunt died. I was 8 years old and living in Los Angeles. My grandmother came to stay with us while the funeral preparations were made. I remember walking into my room and seeing her staring at the wall, eyes red and swollen. My sister and I slept on the floor next to her bed to keep her company. Several times during those few weeks, I woke up in the middle of the night and I’d see my grandmother wide awake, staring at nothing but the wall again. She barely spoke and stayed in bed, even during the day.

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