I have never been good at silence. When it’s quiet, my brain fills the gap with racing thoughts. It wasn’t until lockdown, when I was 27, that I was diagnosed with ADHD and autism, but looking back it made sense: the fidgety teenage nights, the late-night TV marathons, the constant need for background noise.
As a kid, my insomnia was brutal. When I couldn’t sleep, all I wanted to do was get up and do something, but I shared a room with my sister so I just had to lie there, still and frustrated. I found our workaround: TV. My sister and I would put films on at night to soften the atmosphere and fill the silence.
Our childhood home was quite unstable and we were left alone a lot, so TV became our bedtime white noise. By my teens, it had become routine: I would pick a film, then watch it night after night for a week or two until a new one took over. Films such as The Secret Life of Walter Mitty and The Breakfast Club were particular favourites. But they weren’t a fail-safe solution, and my sleeping issues persisted.
I’ve watched it every night for 15 years. I often don’t make it past the opening credits without falling asleep
Then, when I was about 15 or 16, my mum – a childminder at the time – put on Ratatouille for the kids she was looking after in our house. It was just after the film had come out. She intended it as a distraction for them, but I watched it too and loved it.
I decided that day that it would be my sleep film for the night, and I instantly knew I’d struck gold. It’s hard to explain to anyone who hasn’t tried to fall asleep with a film playing, but Ratatouille has a remarkably consistent soundscape. It’s not about the volume – obviously you can set that as loud or quiet as you want – but the uniformity. There are no big explosions, no sudden jump scares; just the steady hum of kitchens, the occasional pan clatter.
From that night on, I stopped swapping films – Ratatouille became my nightly ritual. I now watch it without fail every single night, and have done for 15 years. I have essentially trained myself to fall asleep to it. I own it on DVD, have it on my phone and iPad, and stream it when I travel. There is no universe in which I can’t access it.
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My boyfriend has been a saint about it. We’ve been together for eight years and live together, which means he’s probably seen the first five minutes of Ratatouille thousands of times – significantly more times than I have, since I often don’t make it past the opening credits before falling asleep. He usually waits until I’m out cold, switches it off, and puts something else on.
People sometimes ask if I even like the film, since I never get to the end. The answer is yes, I love it. So much so that I sometimes resent how fast it knocks me out, because I’d like to watch it through properly. There are probably still whole chunks of it I haven’t seen, despite 15 years of nightly viewing. But I think my love for it is partly why it works: I trust it and feel comforted by it.
Now, it has become a running joke among my friends. If I stay over at theirs, they’ll ask when I’m going to set up Ratatouille for the night. I’ve also talked it through with my therapist, who agrees that as far as coping mechanisms go, there are far worse ways to help with symptoms of ADHD and autism.
I can’t imagine watching anything else at night now. The only thing that might possibly replace Ratatouille is the sequel, which is in the works. Until then, I’ll keep watching the original. Or at least the first five minutes.
Did a cultural moment prompt you to make a major life change? Email us at cultural.awakening@theguardian.com
