In the dim glow of the SpaceX office late on a night in 2025, Elon Musk sat alone in front of his computer screen, his tired eyes reflecting endless lines of code and complex charts. He was used to sleepless nights, moments when the entire world seemed to shrink down to nothing but the mission of conquering the cosmos and transforming the planet. But this night was different.

After months of rumors about his health, Elon decided to open his heart. In a long post on X—the platform he had turned into a “digital town square”—he revealed the three reasons he could not live without sedatives. It was not to justify himself, but to share a silent pain, hoping to spark empathy from the millions who followed him. His story was not just about an eccentric billionaire; it was about a human being fighting inner darkness.

Elon Musk was born in South Africa and grew up in a turbulent family. His father, Errol, was a brilliant but harsh engineer who often left young Elon feeling isolated. From an early age, Elon found solace in books and science fiction, dreaming of distant planets where humanity could start over. But those dreams came at a cost. At twelve, he wrote his first software, and from then on, his life became a chain of colossal projects: PayPal, Tesla, SpaceX, Neuralink. Every success carried immense pressure, like Falcon Heavy rockets roaring into the sky—full of hope, yet brimming with risk. “I’m not a superhero,” Elon once said in an old interview. “I’m just a man trying to fix the world.”

And then, in that post, Elon began to reveal the first reason: the crushing weight of his mission to save humanity. “I can’t sleep without sedatives because of the nights I lie awake thinking about climate change,” he wrote. Imagine Elon lying in bed, eyes wide open, picturing Earth slowly burning under the heat of carbon dioxide. He remembered 2008, when Tesla nearly went bankrupt and he had to sell everything to save the company. On those nights, sleep was the enemy. “If I stop, millions will die—from pollution, from car accidents, from failing to reach Mars in time.” Sedatives—prescribed Ambien or ketamine—became his companions, switching off the frantic thoughts. It wasn’t addiction; it was a tool so he could keep going. His words touched countless hearts: who hasn’t lain awake worrying about the future? But for Elon, it was the future of all humankind. He described one night in Hawthorne after a Starship test explosion, sitting on the edge of collapse, tears streaming down his face. The sedatives pulled him back from the abyss so that the next morning he could stand up again and inspire his team.

The second reason made Elon’s story even more heartbreaking: the pain of personal loss. He rarely spoke about family, but in the post he bared his scars. “I need sedatives to forget the loneliness after every goodbye,” he admitted. Elon has been married three times and has eleven children, yet work has always devoured his life. He opened up about Nevada, his firstborn son who died at just ten weeks old from sudden infant death syndrome. “That was the moment I realized how fragile life is.” The divorces from Justine Wilson, Talulah Riley, and the complicated relationship with Grimes plunged him into depression. On nights alone in his vast Texas mansion, he would hear the wind howl through the windows and ache for his distant children. “Sedatives help me sleep so that tomorrow I can video-call my kids and laugh like nothing ever hurt.” Readers were moved to tears: behind the quirky billionaire with the funny tweets was a father wrestling with unbearable loss. Elon recounted one Christmas Eve spent alone beside the tree, clutching an old photo of Nevada. Sedatives didn’t heal the wound, but they gave him strength to keep loving—and to build Neuralink, technology that might one day save millions of children.

The third reason was perhaps the most gripping, the most profoundly human: the war against his own mind. “I cannot live without sedatives because I’m afraid of my own brain,” he wrote, making millions pause and reflect. Elon has Asperger’s syndrome, which causes his mind to race without pause. He compared his brain to a Tesla running at full speed with no off switch. “Ideas come like a storm: How to link human brains to computers? How to defeat rogue AI? But the storm also brings darkness—anxiety, inherited depression.” He revealed the year 2018, when he worked 120 hours a week and nearly burned out completely. Prescribed ketamine helped him “reset,” escaping what he once called a “negative mental state” in his interview with Don Lemon. This part of the story was magnetic because it was so deeply human: Elon was no invincible hero; he was an ordinary man with weaknesses. He described a trip to a Mars simulation in Utah, sitting alone under a sky full of stars, contemplating mortality. “Sedatives remind me that to save the world, I must first save myself.” Readers felt inspired—if Elon could admit his fragility, maybe they could seek help too.

The post spread like wildfire, racking up millions of likes and shares. Celebrities responded: a Hollywood actor shared his own battle with depression; a young scientist thanked him for setting an example. Yet at its core, the story wasn’t really about sedatives. It was about mental health in a modern world where the pressure to succeed can crush the soul. Elon ended the post with simple advice: “Never be afraid to ask for help. We are all stars trying to shine in the darkness of the universe.”

After that night, Elon kept pushing forward. SpaceX launched more rockets, Tesla built more electric cars, xAI advanced artificial intelligence. But now he slept a little better—thanks to those little pills and the wave of empathy from the world. His story reminds us: behind every genius is a fragile heart, and sometimes the greatest courage is admitting you need help.