When I am on graveyard shift rotation, I cannot help but feel bankrupt. Socially, mentally, physically, spiritually bankrupt. Haven’t even started my first shift yet (that’s tonight), but with the black plastic over my windows, I miss the sun already. My sleep is either too long or too short. Feast or famine, and nothing in moderation.
Please offer some encouraging words in the next three weeks — they will bail me out in ways you won’t imagine.