It’s three o-clock in the afternoon and for no discernable reason, I pace through my
house opening first the front door and then the back. On the book shelf I turn a framed picture a quarter degree and then lean down to the coffee table to restack a few books. Finally, I sit down on the couch only to pop back up. A light in the kitchen is on, and I need to turn it off. The work at my computer beckons, but I’m out of energy and motivation. I’m restless and bored and wonder if this is the “languishing” the New York Times talked about, the blah feeling that’s swept our nation after two years of Covid.
Maybe. But this particular time, three o’clock, both p.m. and a.m., has a long history.
The Bible says in the book of Mark that Christ was nailed to the cross in the morning, but died at three in the afternoon. Folklore and sinister tales have sprung up about 3:00 a.m., the twelve-hour flipside of Christ’s death, as the evil hour when the devil runs rampant. Shakespeare wrote in Hamlet: “Tis now the very witching time of night, when churchyards yawn, and hell itself breathes out.” I’m not superstitious, but often I’ll wake up in the middle of the night, usually near three, pestered by foreboding thoughts.
When I was a young mother living in a littler trailer, I didn’t know about the middle-of-the night witching hour, but I was aware of the three p.m. “arsenic hour.”
Even before I read about the arsenic hour in a woman’s magazine, every afternoon it seemed, between three and four, I had to deal with two fussy babies. When the whining got too loud, I went outside and jiggled the antennae on the roof of our trailer so I could get some TV reception. Then, I’d escape into an old Star Trek episode. “Beam me up, Scottie” took on new meaning. For other young mothers though, an afternoon “high” needed to be more palpable. Arsenic hour segued into cocktail hour.
It could be Mike and his Uncle Carl’s afternoon “mocktail” was instigated by this three o’clock slump. Mike, a farmer in our valley, dropped whatever he was doing mid-afternoon to drive to his Swedish Uncle Carl’s house for coffee and cookies. Whether cocktails or mocktails, I think a lady on Instagram named “BoozyKooties” had an interesting idea: “Let’s normalize drinking based on circadian rhythms rather than time of day. If my body is telling me it’s happy hour, then I need to honor that.”
Circadian rhythms play a fascinating role in the three o’clock problem.
Circadian rhythms regulate our biological clock. They are the natural physical and emotional cycle our body goes through in a 24 hour day. They’re mostly affected by light and darkness, but also temperature, air pressure, and other factors. Here’s the thing though: circadian rhythms trigger hormones and feel-good chemicals in the brain. So, your mood rises and falls depending on the time of day.
I was surprised to find out that the afternoon crash I sometimes experience is scientifically well-documented. Dopamine is one of those brain chemicals that can make you feel happy and motivated. It’s highest in the early morning, but it’s lowest—wait for it—at about 3:00 p.m. Anti-depressants can support dopamine levels, but so also can exercise, music, and time spent in the sun. The 3:00 a.m. witching hour can also be explained neuro-chemically. The mental health therapists in my family, both my daughter and husband, have talked about clients experiencing nighttime despair. Apparently, serotonin, a hormone that elevates mood, is at its lowest point in the middle of the night. Our brains don’t want us to feel energetic then. The idea is to be in deep sleep. Unfortunately, for some of us, that’s not always the case.
The upshot of all my research is, light, especially natural light helps us get through the threes, both afternoon and nighttime.
If I wake up with disturbing thoughts in the middle of the night, the simple act of turning on a light and reading a book can tamp down some of my worries. In the middle of the day, rather than pacing the floor like a caged tiger, just stepping out into the sunshine can make a big difference. Now that I think of it, it’s not surprising one of my favorite activities is to take long walks in the sun. Often I’ll snap on some headphones and listen to music as I hike. Sometimes our body knows what to do long before our head does.
