How I beat my insomnia – and you can too

The first step was to understand that we all need less sleep than we think – and the eight hours ‘rule’ is a total myth

IT’S bizarre, when you think about it, that we spend about a third of our lives happily unconscious. That is, unless you’re one of the 16 million Britons for whom sleep is often elusive. I’m one of them: for the past two decades I’ve suffered with intermittent insomnia which, at times, has driven me to despair.

So, some years ago, I decided to find out why it was happening, and what I could do about it.

I was fortunate that my investigations began at a time when a revolution in sleep research was just kicking off – scientists now understand better than ever exactly what happens when we nod off (it’s not, as was once assumed, ‘nothing at all’). Indeed, sleep is essential for every aspect of our health and wellbeing. During my research, I’ve met dozens of sleep scientists and interviewed hundreds of people – from firefighters

to astronauts, to police officers – about their sleep patterns. I’ve also spent many nights in sleep labs with electrodes attached to my head and body. I’ve taken drugs to put me to sleep, and drugs to keep me awake. I’ve also seen clear evidence of the truly devastating impact that chronic sleep deprivation has, not just on the body but the brain and digestive system.

It reduces the ability to retain memories and to fight infections – which is crucial in these troubling times. And chronic lack of sleep is linked to an increased risk of diseases like type 2 diabetes, dementia and depression. Fortunately, new research has also revealed a range of surprising and highly effective ways to improve the quality and quantity of your sleep.

The results of my investigations form the centrepiece of my new book, Fast Asleep – a guide to achieving restful slumber for life, backed by the latest scientific research.

Crucial to this is my approach to sleeping better – and even curing insomnia. It may seem counter-intuitive, but trust me, it really works.

Many people have been be surprised by my solutions to a lifetime of troubled sleep. As I said in part one of this series in the Daily Mail yesterday, my approach involves restricting the amount of sleep you have. It is a type of evidence-based treatment called Sleep Restriction Therapy. For a few weeks, you deliberately reduce the amount of time you spend in bed.

You start off on the first week by staying up two hours more than you normally would. And then, each week for the next month, shave 20 minutes off that time. By the end of it, you should be sleeping well.

Studies have shown that this sort of approach reboots your brain, and works more effectively than anything else, including drugs. Staying up until you’re really tired eliminates the classic mistakes problem sleepers make – lying awake, fretting about not sleeping.

All this does is set up a bad behaviour pattern, where your brain comes to associate being in bed with feeling stressed.

ANOTHER big factor for how well we sleep is diet. Fibre-rich foods, like grains, fruits and vegetables, have a direct impact on the healthy bugs in our guts and, in turn, on sleep-enhancing chemicals in our brains.

In today’s You magazine, you will find 14 exclusive, mouthwatering recipes, all packed with naturally sleep-inducing ingredients, created by my wife, GP Dr Clare Bailey.

But first, I want to reveal some of the methods I used to win my own battle with insomnia and how I now manage six hours most nights, which is a real achievement.

I wasn’t always a poor sleeper. My problems didn’t really strike until my late 20s. Before that, I could sleep anytime, anywhere.

Then, in the late 1980s, I began working in television, married my wife Clare – then a hard working junior doctor – and we had children. As anyone knows, having children does terrible things to your sleep patterns – and it’s not just when they’re babies.

By the time Clare and I entered our 40s, the children – and my wife – were sleeping through the night.

But I’d developed the classic signs of insomnia. I would lie there for what felt like hours or wake up at three in the morning with thoughts rushing through my head.

Going to bed, once a real pleasure, was something I began to approach with a sense of dread.

I became increasingly fascinated with the mysterious state of sleeplessness. And, when I learnt about a man who gets by on a couple of hours sleep each night – and is perfectly healthy – I had to meet him.

Tony Wright is a Cornishman who, in 2007, managed to break the world sleep deprivation record by staying awake for 266 hours (11 days).

His story made me wonder how long I could go without sleep. So, I decided to complete a similar challenge and asked if he’d join in, to give me tips and moral support.

Before we started we completed some tests to establish things such as reaction times and mood.

Then, after a decent night’s sleep, we began the most challenging stunt I have ever attempted. I didn’t think the first 24 hours were too bad. But my test results showed that I was already falling apart.

Having stayed up for a day and a night, my reaction times slowed right down. I was irritable and distracted. When I did a car simulation test I kept on crashing.

But, amazingly, Tony was holding up well. His reaction times, grip strength, balance and results of the car simulation showed no sign of deteriorating. I struggled on, keeping myself busy by pacing around, singing and playing pool. We weren’t allowed caffeinated drinks – just water.

Interestingly, among the gloom, there were little bursts of euphoria. After 48 hours without sleep I watched the sun rise and felt gloriously alive – the light from the rising sun affects the parts of the brain that governs the sleep and wake cycle – the circadian clock.

THE light was perking me up, triggering the release of hormones and other body chemicals that make us alert, and getting me ready for a new day. The feeling continued for a few hours. But by midafternoon, on day two, I had to fight to keep my eyes open.

My blood pressure was up, my blood sugar had soared and I had a thundering headache. When I began to hallucinate the hotel walls were caving in, I knew it was time to give up this particular experiment.

I staggered to my bed and took a final look at my watch – I’d managed 64 hours (two and a half days) without sleep. So why did Tony show little sign of sleep deprivation? No one knows for certain, but

I think the most likely explanation lies in his genes. In August 2019, University of California researchers found a family with a genetic mutation that let them live happily on four hours sleep a night. The mutation is in a gene called ADRB1, which alters activity in various regions of the brain that regulate sleep. But these mutations are incredibly rare in humans, which is why most of us need at least six hours a night. By the way, it’s a popular misconception that we need eight hours. Most studies show people get by fine on six and a half hours, and the much repeated eight hours usually counts all the time spent in bed, including when not actually asleep.

We rarely encounter extreme sleep deprivation in life. But even a moderate sleep deficit can build up and cause damage, playing havoc with levels of hormones that govern appetite, stress, growth and the immune system. One thing that I’m sure made my own insomnia worse over the years, was being on the heavier side. I was overweight, with too much fat around my gut. As a result I developed raised blood sugars which put me in the diabetic range. Thankfully, I have since managed to rid myself of the disease but back when I was bigger, I slept terribly. Partly because I snored so much – more common in those who are overweight or obese, because excess fat around the neck can make it difficult to breathe.

As soon as I lost weight, my sleep improved (and as Clare will confirm, my snoring reduced, too).

It’s also important to realise that sleep and weight gain are intrinsically linked. I discovered this when I took part in an experiment at the University of Leeds. Sleeping badly was making me put on even more weight. During the experiment, I – along with a group of healthy volunteers – cut back my time in bed to less than four hours for two consecutive nights.

We wore glucose monitors which measured our blood sugar levels. I noticed that, at the times I felt the most exhausted, I had cravings for foods I’d never eat nowadays – biscuits and chocolate.

After two nights of normal sleep to recover, we all travelled up to Leeds to get our results. Everyone complained about having the munchies during the experiment. Some polished off packets of custard creams before going to bed.

Readings of my blood sugars showed they soared when I was most sleep deprived, reaching the level you’d expect to see in someone with type 2 diabetes. But all returned to normal after a good night’s sleep. So why did this happen?

Well, being sleep deprived alters your appetite hormones, making you feel hungry more often, and less likely to feel full. The body produces more of the stress hormone cortisol while awake, which can make blood sugar levels fluctuate the next day. Both these things combine to make us more prone to eating when tired.

Another big turning point for me was a psychological one: discovering how common my form of insomnia is – and not getting too worked up about it. Previously, I resented the fact that I’d wake up at 3.30am. But waking in the middle of the night was once considered normal.

Roger Ekirch, a history professor from Virginia Tech University, said in preindustrial times it was common to go to bed a few hours after dusk, wake up and do some chores for a few hours, then go back for a second sleep. The pressures of the industrial age and arrival of electric lights changed that: it allowed us to work later, and stay up later.

Soon sleeping continuously became the new normal.

These days, if I wake up, rather than lie there fretting, I get up, go to another room, listen to music, meditate or read a boring book.

When I begin to feel sleepy, usually after about 30-40 minutes, I go back to my bedroom for my ‘second sleep’. Since I have accepted that I am unlikely to return to sleeping soundly every night, I’ve felt more rested, less stressed and less likely to nod off during the day.