Losing sleep and my mind with 3am fighting talk

Ah, the 3am imaginary argument. Is there more sure a sign that you're losing your mind than this?

Lying in bed, thoughts shuttering like passing trains, you craft each response and rebuttal down to the last devastating word.

Your opponent is fierce, they have some solid counter-attacks, but nothing in comparison to your blistering barbs.

You are the victor. You are also completely worked up and a good 90 minutes away from falling asleep again.

They, in all likelihood, are snoozing soundly somewhere, blissfully unaware they were just involved in a ferocious, fictitious bust-up.

It's comforting to think however, what with all the bad (mad) vibes being sent in their direction, that they felt some sort of virtual slumberland slap. I've been a veritable Freddie Kruger at times, just less murdery.

Obviously, the boss is the number one culprit in the ol' imaginary row, followed by all those other annoying bods at work. Sharon in accounts? Yep, you've put her in her place. Moaning Gary from IT? Such an earth-shattering insult fell from your lips, he never bothered you again.

Other halves, siblings and your fellow rush-hour commuters are other reasons to lose sleep, not to mention grind your teeth, clench your fist and act like an all-round lunatic. In pyjamas. I, however, have been 3am-ing (I've just invented that, what you think? Could catch on?) with complete strangers.

For some unknown reason, I've been losing sleep and writing the script to squabbles with people I've never met. People I'm pretty sure don't even exist.

Now, it's bad enough to imagine a fight with someone you know but to imagine both the fight and the foe is a step too far. Sham, bam, thank you ma'am, call in the men in white coats.

But these are the tricks your mind plays when you're even the tiniest bit stressed out.

Stress, anxiety, whatever you want to call it, is a horrible thing. Like that awful sick feeling you get when you have to get up to go to the airport at 4am but without the two weeks in Tenerife at the end.

Luckily, I only get these little wobbles on the odd occasion, when there's a big project at work or relationships go through a rocky patch.

To fully be knocked off your feet by stress, to be engulfed in that black cloud, must be horrendous. Not helped by countless people telling you to "pull yourself together" or "just get a good night's sleep" – these are clearly folk who've never 3am-ed.

They're also people who come out with nuggets like "they didn't get stressed in the old days". True, but then they didn't have debt, divorce, deadlines and 24-hour instant and intrusive global communication then either. Give a caveman an iPhone with an 11pm angry email from his boss and watch him lose it.

As for me, I suppose I'll have to weather this stressy storm for a bit longer and spend another few nights bickering with nameless, faceless souls.

Now, where are those men in white coats?

One last thing

Walking into a shop, handing over your money and receiving the goods in return is so passé. These days, it's all about tickets, flat screens and waiting for your number to be called. Argos was first and now McDonald's has followed suit. Instead of simply being handed your cheeseburger (look, I was hungover, ok?) by a two-starred teenager, you are now left to play burger bingo on the big screen instead. Why?

Read Elizabeth Joyce first in the Weekend Shropshire Star