Fast reverting back to a night-owl... | Musings Of A Mild Mannered Man

Fast reverting back to a night-owl…

This photo shows an owl perched at a tree bran...

I have now been out of work for 6 weeks and 5 days, due to being made redundant at the hotel, the main thing I have noticed since finding myself with all this extra time on my hands is that I am reverting to my teenage years and have become a night-owl. No matter what I try to do with my days, which mainly is applying for jobs, watching the 24hr news channels, helping my parents with light house work, or looking after my sister’s kids, I seem to find myself staying up all night, either reading furiously or having a DVD marathon of a TV series I’ve not seen in such a long time.

And it is driving me nuts.I mean, really nuts, like psychosis nuts.

When I was working, I normally had to work a shift pattern that some would say was a killer – the times I’d only have 4hrs between two 10 hours shifts was normally more often than not – but after 12 long years I had taught my body to get some sleep as and when, or just motor through the tiredness till my couple of days off, when I could then spend 48hrs asleep if necessary. But I always made sure I kept sociable hours and never went to sleep if it was light outside.

In the last couple of weeks that has completely reversed. I’m starting to find myself getting up at 4pm and then heading back to bed at 8am.

I’ve tried so many different ways of trying to reset my ‘body-clock‘, but no matter how many coffees I consume, brisk walks I take, natural sleeping pills I consume, after a few days I find the days becoming night and the nights becoming day. I wouldn’t mind if it was due to a wonderfully mad party or exciting social, life; that would be an acceptable reason and one I could tackle, or a least enjoy.

But no, my body seems to have developed a mind of it’s own and is trying to screw with me any way it can.

Some days, after waking up feeling guilty and annoyed that the day is almost over I decide to hit the caffeine to try and force myself back into a ‘normal’ sleep pattern. I’ll wait till 2am and then I brew up the strongest jug of fully-caffeinated coffee that I can find, making sure it’s sickly sweet and thick as molasses, the thought being that my body will either get such a super-charged kick that it will not notice the extra few hours I’m forcing it to stay awake, or, if it does, it will have some extra fuel in the sugars to keep it going till I let it drop. All that happens after the initial rush of febrile activity is I end up lying in a crumpled heap  on the floor, after bouncing off every single flat surface I can find, shaking and gibbering, that I then sleep for 36 hours, waking up at 4pm, with a mild case of amnesia.

I’ve then tried going  for brisk walks, to either tire my body out so it will let me collapse into bed at a reasonable time of night, or keep me awake for the rest of the day from the fresh, crisp air circulating around in my blood stream. But no, my body decides that, for which ever reason I thought I was going out for bloody walk, to reverse the purpose. Now I am not one for walking anywhere, I mean, I was not built for it; I don’t get to be the big, comfy teddy-bear of an uncle by walking. So many times have I gone out in the bloody, freezing cold, to tire myself out so I can come back  and get to sleep at a reasonable time for my body to then find some deep reserve of energy that needs using there and then which then keeps my brain ticking over all bloody night.

I wouldn’t mind so much but I have moved back into my parents home. I’m still managing to apply for jobs; the web is a great tool to find and bombard companies with my C.V. and pleading letters. Also, 4pm is still enough time to call around the local companies to see if there is anything going.

But I have moved back in to my parents home.

I know that they respect me as an adult, and so far they haven’t not mentioned my new sleeping rota, but in myself I feel I am just abusing their hospitality. I don’t want them to think that I’m still a grumpy, lazy teenager I was back all those years ago when I last ‘lived’ at home. Being a teenage once is enough for anyone, and should be forgotten as soon as possible. All that introspection, the cocky arrogance, and the sullen days of hiding away in your room till the night rolls around where you can relish in the peace and quite to ‘discover’ yourself. It’s enough to drive anyone to drink. Never again.

So, with that thought, and using the lovely introspection that social media and the internet can offer, I’m going to channel the ‘night-owl’ into some constructive form of therapy. They say everyone has a novel inside of them. Well, I’m going to dig around inside my vacuous mind and one way or another, vigorously beat out that novel that I know I have hidden away inside. It’s either that or hit the drink, and I know I don’t have the commitment level to become a drunk.

 

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