I live in a body that wants – needs – a regular sleep cycle. I work at a job that precludes having one. Over the years, that combination has wreaked havoc with my moods. I’m giddy on those mornings when I’ve worked all night, and I feel low almost as soon as I have time to.
When I worked at The San Francisco Examiner from 1981 to 1983, my circadian rhythm (i.e. my body clock) was never in sync with Pacific Standard Time. For the first six months I reported for The Examiner, I could be assigned to work Sunday afternoons and evenings followed by 9-to-5 shifts on Mondays and Tuesdays. Wednesdays and Thursdays I could well be back on the swing shift.
My body clock was always discombobulated. Fridays and Saturdays I couldn’t make myself sleep late nor could I get to sleep until late. And just about the time I would sort of get used to this hellish pattern, some boss would change it. After six months, I was ready to shoot myself.
I’m still on a crazy schedule that typically requires working past midnight Tuesdays and Wednesdays but then working only mornings on Thursdays and sleeping through the afternoon. The only trouble with this is, I wake up about 10 p.m. Thursdays ready to eat, answer correspondence, and do a little reading. Before I know it, it’s 2 a.m. and I have to get up before 7:30.
I need at least eight hours sleep! I wail to myself. But how ‘bout the afternoon nap? Can I add those hours to the five and a half I’m about to get or do they merely make up for lost time? Would it be cheating to allocate a few hours to each?
According to modern medicine, the best thing to do is to set your alarm clock and get your circadian rhythms back in sync with local time as quickly as possible. Although you can’t always reset your body clock overnight, the sooner you do, the quicker your moods will stabilize or – if you’re traveling – the quicker you’ll get over jet lag.
As I’ve mentioned several times in this column, I’m among millions of people in northern climes who suffer from Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD). That is, I tend to get depressed in those months when nights are long and days are short. My circadian rhythm needs more light if I’m to avoid becoming gloomy, so I keep a light box beside my desk all winter.
On the other hand, these long days around the summer solstice are the best time of the year for me, and I feel unusually cheerful.
Although the person who chose to give the acronym SAD to a depressive disorder must have been mischievous, the consequences of SAD are not so jolly. Finland, whose capital, Helsinki, is further north than any other nation’s capital except Reykjavik, Iceland, has far and away the highest suicide rate in the world. Even Japan, where suicide in certain circumstances is sanctioned by tradition, doesn’t come close.
I’ve never been to Finland, but I’ve been to Iceland a couple of times. And from what I’ve seen, people in Iceland who might otherwise be predisposed to suicide get drunk instead. A few years ago, public drunkenness became so widespread on the island that Iceland didn’t have enough jail cells to hold everyone convicted of drinking violations. As a result, after a defendant was sentenced, he’d be sent home and would go about his daily life until he was notified there was room in the jail for him.
Sort of reminds me of an incident during the two years (1968-1970) I spent teaching Journalism and World Literature at Upper Iowa College. The college was in Fayette, Iowa, a town about the size of Point Reyes Station. It too had a sheriff’s substation with a holding cell. (Although the Point Reyes substation has a holding cell, it is not being used currently.) Fayette’s police force consisted of a resident deputy and his assistant.
One night, a woman in town called the deputy when her drunken husband went on a rampage at home. The deputy and his assistant arrested the man and hauled him off to the holding cell, only to have the drunk continue the rampage – tearing apart a mattress and pillow, breaking a chair, and in general being obnoxious. Finally, the officers had enough. The resident deputy called the man’s wife and told her she would have to come down to the substation and pick up her husband. Not only was he damaging their holding cell, the deputy said, he was keeping the officers from getting any sleep.