My Story about Working the Night Shift
This is just as hard for me to write as it is to read it back to myself. I have been working the night shift for about ten months now (in previous years, I made it to 15 months) and it’s been slowly eating away at every aspect of my life.
At first, like always, I thought it to be just a fluke. Pop a couple Unisom, get a good day’s sleep, and be well-rested and ready to go! Lately, that hasn’t been the case.
I have been sleeping whole days away.
My once normal level of motivation and ability to hide behind my troubles is slowly catching up with me. I let myself have a mental outburst the other night.
I was asked by my manager to pull a 15-hour shift like it was nothing.
I was hanging on a thread after just 5 hours! I was severely lacking what mentality I had left to come to terms with the fact that I was no longer cut out for working third shift anymore.
Normally, all I need is a good night’s rest and some coffee to kick start my day.
Now, I feel I miss the sun every time it’s out.
I miss important events in my life that I learn can go (and will go on) without me.
I have lost friends, important friends, to this shift.
I can no longer control my sleep habits.
I have no control over when I will wake up again.
And it scares me.
I have been feeling remotely depressive, lately as well. And it’s been showing more so in my personal life than ever. I miss hanging out with my mom from time to time, I miss when I promise my boyfriend we would spend the day together, and mostly I miss my “me” time to just write, blog and cross-stitch.
The thought of taking anti-depressants scares me, too.
Greg is on them. They have been working for him.
I am still not sure if I am really clinically depressed, or is it entirely due to working third shifts vigorously for a week straight and then maintaining an uneven schedule until resumption can occur?
Neither way, I do not, nor should I feel the need to continue on with this charade.
One way or another, I will be on days by March.
Amanda B Hansen