Full disclosure: I used to have a terrible time sleeping. I would stay up all hours of the night reading about quantum field theory, or Jung psychology, or game theory as I scribbledb in a notebook attempts at solving mathmatical equations that I essentially pulled out of my ass. When I attempted to sleep, I would just lay in bed and "BUZZ". I would hash over hypothetical conversations with friends or family over subjects that I would never actually be able to express in person. I would stare at the ceiling & my thoughts would become this static electricity to the point that it actually hurt. Every now & then I would make a personal breakthrough in my attempts at understanding these subjects but I would find the fundamental truths so overwhelming that I would have episodes that (in hindsight) I assume were panic attacks. However, I would walk away with these satisfying feelings of comprehentional progress.

Fast forward to now; I am an alcoholic & I sleep well. No more headaches & no more panic attacks. I barely read anymore (ourside of forums like this & facebook), I've lost all interest in math, & I wake up feeling emotionally & cognitively idle. Oh, but I definitely don't stay up pretending to talk to people that aren't there! (Because with the internet, you guys are always there)

DISCLAIMER: This is DEFINITELY not advice to booze your sleeping problems away, & I am certain that I'm probably diagnosable as hell for what I discribed.

Practice.

I do not suffer from existential angst. I do not feel remotely insignificant.
I also sleep well, for the most part. The older you get, the more you have to get up to pee.

I wonder if this is only because we've been conditioned to believe that we're significant. There's other cultures where the notion of significance is insignificant, so you don't see any conflicts in their literature.

My sleeping pills knock me out. So I don't worry about not sleeping and staying up late at night.

Parenthood

Perhaps I’m being mundane, but the bric-a-brac of daily existence provides ample material to keep my mind busy and unworried about my existential significance. I studied philosophy in college and I came to the conclusion long ago that life has no real meaning outside the details of ones life, family and culture. I really feel for the flotsam of our society that have no fundamental connection to anything. Now that’s a question of existential significance. When you’ve been dumped on the trash heep of society and are being blown by the winds of chance, what meaning does your life have?

I personally have a lot of anxiety and depression that keeps my mind going and going and going when I should be sleeping. I spend a lot of that of time distracting my mind away from my destructive self on movies, food, looking things up for new knowledge. I eventually get sleepy. If I can't shake off my anxiety or get to a state that I can't get to sleep and I need to then I medicate.

I'm afraid I can't do much to quell your feelings, but consider that the alternative to our existence holds very limited appeal. One thing you have achieved, which so few have, is a certain freedom from the insidious trappings of blind faith; you are a pioneer, and like all pioneers you are bound to find yourself alone in the wilderness at times.

Insignificance? All gods creations matter. That’s doesn’t keep me awake. The fact it’s near Christmas and my love of 8 years is dead for a year this Xmas does though. Maybe you’re over anylyzing. Relax you’re requirements and get a clue. Life to short for this petty bickering about crap. Love is live care is care. Maybe read Carl Sagan book Billions and Billions then go madturbate I dunno. You need something to sleep it sounds like and you’re barking up the wrong tree. Lol

I feel like I should be listening to Sinatra's, In The Wee Small Hours Of The Morning album while reading this thread.

I work towards achieving at least one small goal which makes a difference before I take my leave of the big blue bus. I realize that I'm never going to be a huge differnce maker like Nicolai Tesla or Philo Farnsworth, but if I can go to my grave having made sure that one Nicolai Tesla lived their life never wanting for anything and one con man and charlatan like Donald Trump or Thomas Edison languished in the obscurity which they deserved, I'll consider my time on this planet to have been a success.

The name for this is infinitude despair, Kirkagaard saw it as a problem with faith.
Super ironic.
My thought is to embrace it, while there are large infinities, there are also small ones. The infinite inside of drinking lemonade on a hot day. Infinity is based on perception. Revel in the possibility of the next day. Revel in pains in knowing that within the largest expanse ever, the little bits that made up the universe randomly Collided to make you. You are infinitely unlikely, yet exist.

The almighty orgasm keeps me centered.

As crude as it sounds, it's the most real thing that can keep us tethered to this place. When I think about the universe ending in an everlasting, all-consuming darkness as every star eventually flickers out and all energy is dispersed throughout a constantly expanding universe so as to never become matter or heat again, it gets to me. Nobody exists on purpose and everyone's gonna die.

If the multiverse theory is correct, then our insignificance is directly proportional to the amount of universes there are.

If it isn't true, then this is all there is and you and I will die before we even get a blip of knowledge about it. In the end, it won't matter anyways, because all species in the universe will die off long before the universe ends in a dull, anticlimactic slumber.

So, I just jerk off, watch a movie, and eat some cheesecake or chips. Seek pleasure, avoid pain. That is as real as any meaning could possibly get. And if that's not enough for ya'll, there's only one (maybe two) other options: wear a grin that swallows the lies about meaning and purpose, or die.

Simple. I've just learned not to give a shit. I've never really been troubled by existential crises; even after coming to the solid intellectual conclusion that there (probably) isn't a god, and that the universe has no particular purpose for any of us, I still thought that since I'm here, I might as well make the best of it. In a way, it's liberating, to know that your life is your own, to live as you will, and no matter how badly you fuck up, in the end it just doesn't really matter.

I used to do the same thing !nd still do sometimes but it's cool to look at science for spiritualism in my mind. I go outside and breathe and think about how our atmosphere wouldn't exist if it wasn't for the molten magnetic core in the earth, or the bacteria 3 billion some odd years ago that produced tons
of oxygen as a metabolic byproduct or how practically every atom of our body was forged in the heart of a star or out of the trillions of people who could have been born I was the one who got to glimpse for a time the majesty of the universe while comprehending so much of it. And that when I die it will be a rest because I'll hopefully made so much of my nearly impossible life that I will be tired of it...If that doesn't make you feel better then reading it a couple times will at least put you to sleep

Are you depressed? It doesn't sound comfortable. Talking helps. I hope this forum can give you a little helpful feedback. Hang in there; we really don't have to justify our right to exist. We're here; let's just try to enjoy the ride, learn a little as we go along and share it. You aren't snuffed out entirely, in a sense, if you pass on your life lessons to someone else, like the next generation; mentorship; that sort of thing.

Keeps me up at night? Right now its this fun little forum keeping me up.
Talking. Exchanging viewpoints and thinking things through with others helping as sounding boards. Occasionally helping others as able. Those things help. I don't believe that cosmically we have to justify our existence. I rather think live and let live is enough. With good self-esteem, we can accept ourselves and our right to exist, along with the same for others, imperfections and all.