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Personally have never been good at quiet. When it’s quiet, my mind rushes in with racing thoughts. It wasn’t until lockdown, when I was 27, that I was diagnosed with attention deficit hyperactivity disorder and autism spectrum disorder, but reflecting now, it was clear: the fidgety teenage nights, binge-watching shows into the early hours, the constant need for background noise.

During childhood, my insomnia was brutal. When I couldn’t sleep, all I wanted to do was get up and do something, but we slept in one room together so I remained in bed, motionless and annoyed. I found our workaround: The screen. Evenings involved cinematic viewings to soften the atmosphere and occupy the quiet.

Growing up, our household was turbulent and we were left alone a lot, so the television served as our sleep-time sound. As a teenager, it had become routine: I would pick a film, then view it repeatedly each evening for a week or two until a new one took over. Movies like Walter Mitty and The Breakfast Club were top choices. But they weren’t a fail-safe solution, and my sleep problems continued.

For 15 years, it’s been my evening ritual. I often don’t make it past the opening credits without falling asleep.

Subsequently, during my mid-teens, my mother, who cared for children then – started the film Ratatouille for the children under her care in our home. It was just after the film had come out. Her goal was to entertain them, but I viewed it as well and adored it.

Immediately, I made up my mind that it would be my sleep film for the night, and right away, I realized I’d found something special. For those who haven’t dozed off to movies, it’s tough to describe, but its sonic landscape is notably uniform. It isn’t related to loudness – obviously you can set that as loud or quiet as you want – but the consistency. There are no big explosions, no sudden jump scares; only the constant buzz of culinary spaces, the occasional pan clatter.

From that evening forward, I no longer rotated features – Ratatouille became my nightly ritual. I now watch it without fail every single night, and this has continued for a decade and a half. Basically, I’ve learned to sleep with it on. It’s in my DVD collection, keep it on mobile devices, and watch it via streaming away from home. I ensure it’s always available.

My boyfriend has been a saint about it. Co-habitating for nearly a decade, which means he’s probably seen the first five minutes of Ratatouille thousands of times – far more often than me, since frequently, I’m asleep before the titles finish. Typically, he pauses until I’m deeply asleep, turns it off, and chooses different content.

People sometimes ask if I even like the film, since I don’t reach the conclusion. The answer is yes, I love it. To the point where I occasionally regret its soporific effect, because I’d like to watch it through properly. Likely, entire segments remain unseen, despite 15 years of nightly viewing. But I think my love for it is partly why it works: Confidence and calm come from it.

Among friends, it’s an ongoing humorous topic. If I stay over at theirs, they inquire about my cinematic bedtime preparations. I’ve discussed this with my counselor, who agrees that as far as coping mechanisms go, many less beneficial approaches exist for neurodivergent traits.

I can’t imagine watching anything else at night now. The only thing that might possibly replace Ratatouille is an upcoming second installment. Currently, I’ll continue with the initial version. Or more accurately, the introductory segment.