Sleep Problems in Older Adults - The Myth That Older Adults Need Less Sleep

Somewhere along the way, a myth took hold that older adults need less sleep. What actually happens is that sleep becomes harder to hang on to when the world refuses to cooperate.

created by ChatGPT 2/7/2026

UCLA Medicine (1) and the National Institute on Aging (2) busted that myth. They say people don’t need less sleep; instead, age-related factors make it harder to get enough sleep. Sleep problems in older adults are caused by medications, chronic pain, or conditions like sleep apnea and nocturia (needing to use the bathroom at night).

Amen. I rest my case.

BTW, Nocturia is a new word for me. Now, instead of saying I got up to pee in the middle of the night, I can sound classy and say I have nocturia.

In addition to pain, apnea, and nocturia, I’d like to add distractions to the experts’ list. Many mornings at 5:17, a noisy maintenance truck sputters by my window. I might stand a chance of getting back to sleep—but just as I start to nod off, it goes by again. The second time, I might recover. But if it keeps coming back and forth, I’m doomed.

My brain says, I tried to go back to sleep, but you tricked me every time, so I’m not bothering anymore. When the truck finally disappears twenty minutes later, I’m wide awake.

Then there’s the CPAP machine. Occasionally it decides to double as a noisy metronome, blasting away at about 15 beats per minute. In musical terms, that’s larghissimo—extremely slow—which should be soothing. Instead, it’s more like the cannon booms in the 1812 Overture.

I’ve tried following the advice of sleep experts. They say you should only use the bed for sleep. No electronic devices. And if you’re tossing and turning, get out of bed. That sounds fine in theory, but if I get up when I’m drowsy again, the activity of going back to bed wakes me right up.

And these experts clearly don’t have a cat that thinks if you get out of bed, it’s playtime.

Then there are therapies that assume sleeplessness is caused by racing thoughts. That may have been true back when we were working and juggling jobs, families, and schedules. These days my biggest worry is, What day is it? or Which doctor’s appointment do I have tomorrow?

If I have random thoughts, they’re usually ideas for writing. I wish there were a way to capture them without getting out of bed. Experts suggest keeping a notebook by the bed. Clever idea—unless you’ve tried to find a pen in the dark. Or write in the dark. I did once. It was illegible and written across my grocery list.

Tonight I try typing notes on my iPad. I’m grateful the lit screen hasn’t awakened hubby. I usually hate autofill, but at 3 a.m. it’s a godsend. I can’t wait to see what linguistic chaos I created by morning.

iPad night writing - some gibberish but readable

Experts say no electronic devices in bed, but reading distracts me from the noises and my bursitis. And if the book isn’t a page-turner, it often lulls me to sleep.

I try breathing exercises. Experts say they lower heart rate and reduce anxiety to help you fall asleep faster. While they’re helpful during the day, at night they make me more anxious if I don’t fall asleep after a few minutes. Now I’m breathing and watching the clock.

A therapist once suggested that when I toss and turn, I should do something distasteful—like pushups—until my brain associates sleeplessness with pushups and decides sleep is the better option. Are they kidding? After doing pushups, I was even more awake. And now sweaty. Talk about a racing heartbeat.

Take a pill? What if it’s already 5:30 a.m.? By the time it works, I won’t get much extra sleep. And what about long-term effects? Tylenol damages your liver, NSAIDs damage your kidneys, and sleep aids supposedly cause dementia. Am I trading coveted sleep tonight for nastier health issues down the road?

Is tonight bad enough to break into the stash of oxy I hoarded after surgery in 2024? I have five left. I should probably create a desperation-based decision-making formula:

If hours awake × probability of falling asleep unmedicated > 4, take pill.

Decades ago, Bailey White or Leo Buscaglia cassette tapes would lull me to sleep. But after two downsizings, the tapes and recorder went the way of the dodo bird. I can’t find the programs on the internet anymore. Do you think Barry White would be a good substitute? Probably not. My spinning instructor always started class with My First, My Last, My Everything, so now I associate Barry White with spinning. My legs might start pedaling in bed. Oh well.

So it seems my best tactic is to read myself to sleep—no matter how long it takes—and stop counting the sleepless hours. At least I’m collecting Kindle points, completing reading challenges, and expanding my vocabulary.

I now know words like nocturia and larghissimo. And if nothing else, I’m wide awake enough to remember them.

References

1. Five Reasons Why You Wake Up When You Age, UCLA Health, July 17, 2025

2. Sleep and Older Adults, National Institute on Aging