remembering the darkness and light
At a young age, I heard the story of a cousin's suicide attempt after coming out to her mom. This will forever be the first memory I think of when wishing I could crawl back into the two closets I only left in the last few years. On the worst days, it exists as a focal point, a central thought surrounded by whatever current intrusive thoughts spiral into my mind.
Today was one of those days--again.
On Wednesday night, I reached out to a friend. I said, "I'm really struggling tonight." Her immediate response saved me from the dark thoughts taking more power over my actions that night. I reached out to a few others that night too, and then I barely slept. All I remember from that day was feeling exceptionally tired. I barely slept the night before due to other people in the apartment arguing into the early morning.
I'm not sure what triggered the dark thoughts on Wednesday night. Honestly, that's where a large portion of my current frustration lies--if I could process the cause, I could control the emotions. That's basic care. But I still have no answer to my own question.
Instead, I have a blurred memory of the last week. Memories don't form when my thoughts are about not wanting to live; forced counting of my breath (to not yell when I'm impatient); constant pressure to remind others that I'm not mad at them; and strong frustration that nobody can see something is wrong. I have regrets about leaving work halfway through the day and not attending the unofficial team bonding tonight. I have a headache from how tightly I've unconsciously clenched my jaw all day, and a neck ache from doing the same with my shoulders. I have dry eyes from the random bursts of tears that have escaped them, against all defenses that I tried.
Most of all, I have no desire to do anything except make everyone aware that these feelings and thoughts are not by choice.
Early at work, a coworker noted that I didn't look okay. Thankfully I knew that she would understand, so I told her that I wasn't. I explained what this week has been like. We talked about me leaving, but I genuinely didn't want to--correction: I wanted to leave. I didn't want to have to explain to anyone the reasoning why.
After four hours, I knew that explaining so I could leave would cause less pain, shakiness, and tears than staying. When I walked into my temporary supervisor's office and said, "Can I talk to you?" she instantly focused on me. Anxiety increased.
I pulled a chair out, sat, and said, "I've really tried my best to keep working this week, but I can't anymore today. My depression is too strong and I'm too anxious. Is it okay for me to leave?"
She asked, "What are you going to do for the rest of the day?" I instantly felt the need to be defensive. I felt like I had to explain myself and my actions, and not rightfully so. Had I mentioned a physical illness, she most likely would have asked me to leave. That's what I've experienced before.
"Um I'll probably call my therapist," I stammered before continuing, "Make sure I eat lunch and dinner. Sleep. Do something productive before the end of it."
She smiled then and said, "I only asked to make sure that you're going to do something to care for yourself. I don't want you to do anything hurtful."
I started shaking more then, and I felt my face turn red. I thanked her for her concern and said that what I needed to do most was spend time alone. Having to interact with others--especially with my personality of doing anything and everything that I see is needed--was draining the last of my energy.
That brief interaction and her encouragement to take care of myself and the fact that she shared her plan to tell everyone I left sick (read: mental health is equally important to physical health) will forever be my first memory of an employer truly acknowledging that mental health is important.
I hope that one day that type of memory outweighs the other.
Today was one of those days--again.
On Wednesday night, I reached out to a friend. I said, "I'm really struggling tonight." Her immediate response saved me from the dark thoughts taking more power over my actions that night. I reached out to a few others that night too, and then I barely slept. All I remember from that day was feeling exceptionally tired. I barely slept the night before due to other people in the apartment arguing into the early morning.
I'm not sure what triggered the dark thoughts on Wednesday night. Honestly, that's where a large portion of my current frustration lies--if I could process the cause, I could control the emotions. That's basic care. But I still have no answer to my own question.
Instead, I have a blurred memory of the last week. Memories don't form when my thoughts are about not wanting to live; forced counting of my breath (to not yell when I'm impatient); constant pressure to remind others that I'm not mad at them; and strong frustration that nobody can see something is wrong. I have regrets about leaving work halfway through the day and not attending the unofficial team bonding tonight. I have a headache from how tightly I've unconsciously clenched my jaw all day, and a neck ache from doing the same with my shoulders. I have dry eyes from the random bursts of tears that have escaped them, against all defenses that I tried.
Most of all, I have no desire to do anything except make everyone aware that these feelings and thoughts are not by choice.
Early at work, a coworker noted that I didn't look okay. Thankfully I knew that she would understand, so I told her that I wasn't. I explained what this week has been like. We talked about me leaving, but I genuinely didn't want to--correction: I wanted to leave. I didn't want to have to explain to anyone the reasoning why.
After four hours, I knew that explaining so I could leave would cause less pain, shakiness, and tears than staying. When I walked into my temporary supervisor's office and said, "Can I talk to you?" she instantly focused on me. Anxiety increased.
I pulled a chair out, sat, and said, "I've really tried my best to keep working this week, but I can't anymore today. My depression is too strong and I'm too anxious. Is it okay for me to leave?"
She asked, "What are you going to do for the rest of the day?" I instantly felt the need to be defensive. I felt like I had to explain myself and my actions, and not rightfully so. Had I mentioned a physical illness, she most likely would have asked me to leave. That's what I've experienced before.
"Um I'll probably call my therapist," I stammered before continuing, "Make sure I eat lunch and dinner. Sleep. Do something productive before the end of it."
She smiled then and said, "I only asked to make sure that you're going to do something to care for yourself. I don't want you to do anything hurtful."
I started shaking more then, and I felt my face turn red. I thanked her for her concern and said that what I needed to do most was spend time alone. Having to interact with others--especially with my personality of doing anything and everything that I see is needed--was draining the last of my energy.
That brief interaction and her encouragement to take care of myself and the fact that she shared her plan to tell everyone I left sick (read: mental health is equally important to physical health) will forever be my first memory of an employer truly acknowledging that mental health is important.
I hope that one day that type of memory outweighs the other.
Comments
Post a Comment
thoughts? feelings? questions? send away. I might not have an answer, but I'll always read.