The clocks have gone back.
The UK loses an hour.
I was really aware of it earlier in the week. I was in Dubai. Four
hours ahead of the UK. But even back in Saudi, the difference is still three
hours.
Of course, any issue I have is nothing compared to the issue
I have had back in the UK where my sleep pattern is always knocked out of
kilter at the end of March and October when changes kick in. Today, rather than
stumble through in mild confusion, all I have to do is make sure that calls
back to folk back home are not conducted too early in the morning.
But it had me thinking.
I am now working pretty structured hours. Sundays through
Thursday between 8am and 4pm. I am loving the routine. I leave when it is
light, I get home before dusk. If I time it right, I can easily make it to the
sea, listen to the waves and watch the Terns and Indians fishing before dusk at
around 5:15.
Track back to my time at TS where – for the final four years
– I was locked into a dull shift pattern that at first glance ensured that all
staff in the team had adequate splits between early and late shifts with a mash
of mids chucked in to blur the lines. Fair is fair; it all made sense to share
the good with the bad and we muddled along.
But, in reality, with hindsight,
the patterns were ill planned/implemented, cruel, soul destroying and
unhealthy. At seemingly regular intervals I was lumbered with the most
ridiculous shifts that did nothing but tire the body and break my soul.
Some examples:
Rota-Cokey
You get one shift in
One shift out
In. Out. In. Out.
Fuck you all about…
They do the rota cokey and they fuck you off!
I would have a day off, a day in and then another off. The
shift times would be all over the place. Early, late, mid… the day off was used
as an excuse to make you fit into whatever gap was easiest. You were locked
into the constant cycle of work, sleep, work, sleep, work.
I made no plans. I didn’t see friends. Excitement would be a
stroll into South Harrow for a coffee.
Descending Shifts of Doom
Mid
Mid
Day Off
Late Late
Mid
Early
After a reasonable/sensible start to the week, your sleep patterns
would be eroded. After the late late, I would not sleep. By the end of the
following mid shift I would be broken. Shattered and knackered, dead to the
world, but unable to properly rest.
Ascending Shifts of Hell
Early
Early
Early
Mid
Late Late
FFS. That just got more hopeless as the week went on...
In each case, you never hit a pattern or routine. Just when you thought you were or had, the crap would hit in and you would be thrown in the air. Any and all good
intentions to get out and “use” the long mornings to go off and do stuff, lunch with
friends or just “go for a walk” ended up being lost to the snooze button as
your body tried to cope with the irregularity. Weekends were a blur of tasks
and jobs interspersed with sleep and rush socialising. Often, I would end up
too dead, knackered to be bothered to do anything beyond stare out at the view
(albeit, a pretty good view) and lounge on the sofa.
It was draining and had a massive impact on my health. I
knew it at the time. I recall a conversation with my GP about perpetual lethargy
where – after a discussion of my patterns – he noted that my symptoms were akin
to mild jet lag.
Every new job I sought, I strived to find a routine… Even
those that highlighted potential unsocial hours demonstrated rota’s and
patterns to me that intended to mute or mitigate the impact by allowing weekly
set patterns. This allows the body – to some degree – to react and adapt to the
pressure.
Yesterday, I read the following link on the BBC News
website, below:
It highlights research demonstrating links between shift
work and premature ageing of the brain. The research focus’ on night vs day work
but gives more than a passing nod toward many of the effects that I noted at my
previous employer.
The piece made me realise how much more controlled and
secure I am feeling, today.
OK, I accept, that in trying to keep in contact and my feet
rooted in the UK, I can struggle with the time difference and years and years
of conditioning means that the Friday/Saturday weekends mean that I lose track
of individual days, but I am feeling more energetic, more proactive, more engaged,
better able to problem solve and – dare I say – happier and more confident in
myself.
Earlier today, I saw a link to an article in The Guardian on
Facebook measuring happiness.
Here it is...
Look...
HERE!:
I came in with a safe, average score. Which is good for a
couple of reasons. Firstly – as my friend Giles noted – it is better to be
average in such exercises rather than sit at an extreme. Second, given my
current treatment programme for depression and how demotivated, direction-less,
miserable and vacant I have been feeling for the past 12-18 months, an average “happiness”
score is worthy of celebration.
A few weeks ago, another friend - Alex - asked me
whether my move to the Middle East was the right idea. I acknowledged that
leaving TS was the best thing – the most essential thing – that I had done but
that the jury was out on the move to Saudi. It still is. I don’t think that I
really know until years down the line but what I can say is that I am happier in
myself today than I have been in many years. I am feeling able to look forwards
and am enjoying the experience of learning something through the many challenges
I face in both my work and “life” life.
Long may it continue…
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