LOSING SLEEP OVER NOT SLEEPING: WHY YOUR BRAIN DOES THE EXACT OPPOSITE WHEN YOU’RE JUST TRYING TO FALL ASLEEP

The harder you try to fall asleep, the more awake you become. Has that ever happened to you?

Sometimes the night begins innocently enough. You go to bed, switch off the light, adjust your pillow and wait. Nothing happens. You change position. Turn the pillow over to the cool side. Close your eyes with slightly greater determination, as though this time sleep might finally take the hint. Then you look at the clock. It is already past midnight.

You start doing the maths. “If I fall asleep now, I can still get six hours.” A few minutes later, you check again. “Five hours and forty minutes.” Later still: “Oh God, I’m going to be completely useless tomorrow.” And so, instead of sleeping, you spend the night managing the anticipated collapse of the following day.

Insomnia is one of those almost literary paradoxes: you lose sleep precisely because you cannot sleep. What should be one of the most natural things in the world — letting go, allowing the body to soften and consciousness to slip away for a few hours — turns into a silent struggle between you and your own mind.

That struggle is where the title of this post comes from: not sleeping is keeping me awake.

Because that is often exactly what happens. The simple awareness that we are not sleeping becomes the very thing that keeps us awake.

It is worth understanding why. Not because insight alone will make anyone instantly pass out — unfortunately, the human brain does not come with a restart button — but because understanding the mechanism can help us dismantle the trap.

Sleep is not like switching a light on or off. It is governed by several systems working together. One is sleep pressure, which builds the longer we remain awake. You might imagine it as a reservoir of sleepiness gradually filling throughout the day. Another is the circadian rhythm, our internal biological clock, which is regulated by signals such as light and darkness, daily schedules, physical activity and mealtimes.

When these systems are reasonably well aligned, sleep tends to arrive without needing to be summoned.

The trouble is that insomnia introduces a third character into the story: the alert system.

The person is no longer simply awake. They are awake and watching themselves being awake. “Why am I still not asleep?” “How long until the alarm goes off?” “Will I be able to work tomorrow?” “What if this happens again tomorrow night?”

The brain interprets this stream of thoughts as evidence that there is an urgent problem to solve — possibly even a threat. In response, the body becomes more vigilant, the muscles tense, attention starts scanning for warning signs and, within minutes, the bed — which ought to be one of the safest places in the house — has turned into an emergency control room.

This is where a phrase I often repeat to my patients becomes useful:

Sleep does not respond to effort. It responds to a sense of safety.

That may seem unfair. I know.

We are taught to try harder at almost everything in life. When something is not working, we apply more effort, persist, plan and attempt to take control. But sleep belongs to a different family of experiences. It is more like laughter, inspiration or desire: we can create the right conditions for it, but we cannot command it in quite the same way.

At moments like these, the brain can behave a little like a two-year-old you are trying to persuade to go to sleep, who responds with a very emphatic “No!” simply because you asked. The harder you insist, the more your brain — much like the stubborn toddler — digs in its heels.

Then the mental marathon begins. Unpaid taxes, childhood traumas, the possibility that you might have some rare disease, an argument from 2017 and the nagging suspicion that the message you sent at 4:42 p.m. may have sounded slightly rude.

Trying to fall asleep through sheer effort is a little like trying to relax a muscle by squeezing it even harder. The tool being used to solve the problem ends up becoming part of the problem.

But there is another layer to all this. In many cases, it is not only the bad night itself that feels frightening. It is the catastrophic prediction of what that night will do to us the following day.

“If I don’t get eight hours, I won’t be able to do anything.” “I’m going to feel ill.” “My brain won’t work.” “My entire week is ruined.”

Let us take that fear seriously.

A bad night’s sleep is unpleasant. You may genuinely feel more tired, irritable or unfocused the next day. You probably will not be at your best, and significant sleepiness should never be ignored when driving or operating machinery.

But one poor night also does not usually predict the catastrophe your mind announces at three in the morning. Provided there are no major complicating factors, it is perfectly possible to get through an entire day after sleeping badly. You may move more slowly, feel less sharp and drink a little more coffee — although attempting to compensate for the entire night with stimulants is not a particularly good idea.

Even so, it is not the end of the world.

Recognising this does not mean normalising sleep deprivation or pretending that good sleep does not matter. It means removing the burden of treating every night as a matter of life and death.

It is also worth remembering that not everyone needs precisely eight hours of sleep. Sleep requirements vary from person to person and change across the lifespan. Turning a number into a rigid obligation can transform the clock from a harmless object on the bedside table into a night-time supervisor — and we have already seen what happens when your sleep is being closely monitored.

There are, of course, practical things that can help.

Keeping a reasonably regular waking time is often more important than forcing yourself to fall asleep at exactly the same time every night. Getting some natural light in the morning, staying physically active during the day and avoiding long naps — particularly late in the afternoon — can also be useful.

Caffeine deserves some attention. It is not found only in coffee, but also in certain teas, soft drinks, energy drinks, yerba mate, chocolate and some medications. For some people, coffee after lunch causes no difficulty at all. For others, it is still taking an active part in the brain’s staff meeting at two in the morning.

Alcohol also calls for an honest conversation. It may make you feel sleepy at first, but as the night goes on it tends to fragment sleep and reduce its quality. Using alcohol as a “sleeping aid” often means paying the price a few hours later.

As for screens, intense light, work emails, breaking news, short videos and arguments on social media are rarely the best invitation for the alert system to stand down. Creating a transition period before bed — with dimmer lighting, fewer demands and less stimulation — can only help.

Another important recommendation is to go to bed when you feel sleepy, rather than simply because your schedule says it is bedtime.

If you are lying there struggling to sleep, consider getting out of bed. Sit somewhere comfortable, perhaps in an armchair or on the sofa, read something undemanding or do something calming until sleepiness returns.

In doing so, you begin teaching your brain that the bed is mainly for sleep — and for one other very specific activity. ;-)

The apparent contradiction in this struggle is that, in order to sleep better, some people need to spend less time trying to sleep.

Spending nine or ten hours in bed in the hope of obtaining eight hours of sleep can lead to more fragmented sleep and an increasingly strong association between bed and wakefulness. In specific treatments for insomnia, the amount of time spent in bed may be adjusted in a structured way so that sleep becomes more consolidated and predictable.

This should, however, be done with appropriate professional guidance, particularly for people with epilepsy, bipolar disorder, a high risk of falls, severe daytime sleepiness or certain medical conditions.

It is also important to clarify that insomnia does not only mean difficulty falling asleep.

Some people fall asleep quickly but wake repeatedly throughout the night. Others wake far earlier than they would like and cannot get back to sleep. Some spend many hours in bed yet still wake feeling that sleep has restored very little.

When this happens occasionally — before an interview, after receiving difficult news, while travelling or during a particularly stressful period — the measures described above may be enough. The body often finds its rhythm again once the situation passes and once we stop turning every night into a performance review.

There is, however, a line between a difficult night and a problem that deserves proper assessment.

When difficulty sleeping occurs several times a week, continues for months and begins to affect concentration, mood, energy, relationships or work, buying a better pillow and removing your phone from the bedroom are unlikely to be enough.

Nor is the problem usually resolved through sleep hygiene alone — meaning the general lifestyle recommendations described earlier.

The most strongly recommended treatment in these cases is cognitive behavioural therapy for insomnia, commonly known as CBT-I. It addresses the thoughts, behaviours, schedules and learned associations that keep the problem going.

In some situations, medication may be appropriate for a limited period or as one part of treatment. It should not, however, be used indiscriminately, borrowed from someone else or continued indefinitely without review.

It is also important to investigate whether another condition may be disrupting sleep.

Very loud snoring, pauses in breathing, choking or gasping during the night, morning headaches or severe daytime sleepiness may suggest sleep apnoea. An unpleasant sensation in the legs, accompanied by an almost irresistible urge to move them when lying down, may point to restless legs syndrome.

Pain, acid reflux, menopause, thyroid problems, shift work, stimulant use and a wide range of medications may also play a role. Anxiety and depression are common contributors, but they are not the only possibilities.

There is one more distinction worth making: insomnia is not the same as a reduced need for sleep.

In insomnia, the person wants to sleep, tries to sleep and suffers because they cannot.

By contrast, someone who suddenly begins sleeping only two or three hours a night while remaining full of energy, talking more than usual, experiencing racing thoughts, becoming more impulsive or appearing unusually expansive may not simply be “having trouble sleeping”.

That kind of change deserves professional assessment, particularly when it represents a clear departure from the person’s usual behaviour.

***

So yes, sometimes the answer is to loosen your grip.

But loosening control does not mean abandoning yourself. It means stopping the fight against a function that does not obey direct orders, while also recognising when the problem has reached the point where help is needed.

Sleep is a little like a wary animal. Chase it around the room and it runs away. Set up a camera, a spreadsheet and a stopwatch to monitor it, and it may decide to hide under the bed.

But when it encounters a calm, predictable environment, a mind that feels less threatened and a body allowed to rest without having to prove anything, it often begins to come closer again.

Slowly. Quietly. Without announcing itself.

Like a cat circling the room several times before finally deciding where to settle down.

So the next time you find yourself losing sleep because you cannot sleep, try stepping out of the struggle.

Breathe.

Remind yourself that one night does not define every night, and that you are probably more capable of getting through the following day than your frightened mind is trying to persuade you.

Sometimes, the best way to return to sleep is not to try harder.

It is to understand what is keeping you awake.

Image credit: AI-generated from a prompt written by the author.