Like rippin' off a bandaid

I told them. And it turned out NOT to be the catastrophe and tear-fest that I expected it to be. Lo, and how I fear the dumbest shit.

It went down a lil something like this:

My boss, Andy, called me into his office this morning. Because of my absences as of late, he gave me this schpiel about how the other two assts. in this dept don't know what the fuck they're doing (duh) and I'm the "glue that holds the dept. together" and it's really "difficult when [I'm] not here." So, of course, I felt all the more horrible for what I had to tell him.

Let me make something clear. I don't hate my job. It's not my calling, sure, and maybe I'm not making such a profound difference in the world by writing commercial property insurance policies, but it's still a good job. It pays well and my teammates, while astronomically different from me and my kind, are decent people. I LOVE my direct supervisor, Andy. I think he's funny, reliable, handsome (confidential to Nik - no I don't!) (Confidential to everyone else - Yes I do!), level-headed and trustworthy. These are qualities in a manager that are important to me.  He's shown me understanding where others wouldn't, stood up for me even when it could have damaged him, because he knew it was right. Were I not an anti-social freak, and actually attending some of my company and dept social outings, he and I would probably be friends. As it is, we have mutual close friends and there have been a number of times that I've spent hours in his office just bullshitting with him.

What I'm getting at is, I like working for him, and I HATE letting him down.

So when I had to look him in the face and say "I have a mental illness. I need to leave work for a couple weeks." I was all at once ashamed, afraid, and sad.

But he came through like the kind of man with all those qualities could be expected to. He was understanding, non-judgemental, and kind. He asked some curious questions, the kind you would ask a friend upon learning of their sickness, and then he asked some technical questions - the kind you would ask your employee. I spoke with him for about 20 minutes, giving honest details where they were necessary but keeping it brief enough to limit the discomfort. He dismissed me while we waited for the HR vice president, Caroline. When she arrived, she cornered me before entering the office and simply said "You are not required to tell Andy or Peter anything you don't want to. You have rights, you should know and understand them, and please know that you will be protected." From there we discussed the necessary paperwork and all the logistics of the thing.

Within a few minutes afterward, Andy and I headed to a previously scheduled meeting with a vendor courting our business. Andy let me dominate the meeting. He let me ask all the questions I needed to ask, steer the woman where I wanted to steer her, and he helped me shine by letting me handle the things I do best. Maybe this was for the benefit of HIS direct supervisor, Peter, whose affection toward me has been steadily declining over the past few months. (A whole other story entirely.) Maybe it was because he sensed my fear of being discluded or treated differently now. Maybe, possibly, it was business as usual, and I was just having one of those rare moments where I actually allow myself to shine and allow myself to understand that other people can see my light, too.

All in all, it went well, and though I'm afraid I'll eat my words later, I am currently profoundly grateful that I work for a man, department, company that will help me do my best, because they know my best is pretty goddamn good.

Comments

[Kristen]

I just found your blog through the smackdown and I have to say, you are incredibly brave to put this out there like that. I, too, suffer from a bit of the crazy and I know just how hard it is to talk about, with anyone. And for me it was even harder to get help. I don't know you, but I'm really glad you are doing what's best for you.

[Meghan]

I'm here too from the smackdown, and wishing you all the best. I'm so glad to hear that a light has finally appeared at the end of your tunnel. Your journey is going to be hard, but totally worth it.

[Dating Trooper]

Taking care of yourself and your family is priority #1 so congratulations on facing such an intimidating situation with grace and courage. And your HR person is right - they can't do a damn thing, you are entitled to take time to get better. And you'll only come back as a better employee. I'm on medical disability right now (due to some major ortho surgery) and it feels strange to just "check out" of work and focus entirely on healing, but it is the most important thing you can do. Good luck. Take care of yourself.

[qwyneth]

Oh god. Reading the smackdown (there's where I'm from) and your posts made me tear up.

Amy is right. Go into the hospital. It is not weakness, and it should not threaten your job. You do have rights, and you are protected. And, well, I know you can't see this clearly, but there are other jobs. Your family needs you more than it needs your paycheck. YOU need you more than you need your paycheck.

I spent a week in inpatient treatment and at least two in outpatient treatment after a cry-for-help suicide attempt seven years ago. It saved me. It pulled me out of a horrible spiral and set me on the road upwards. I still struggled--it doesn't fix everything!--but it gave me the strength to put myself together again.

I know it's hard. It's so hard to take that step, to give up control and the security of going to your job and getting your paycheck. But it is worth it. You can get better. You deserve to get better.

Some advice--research the place where you are going. There are good inpatient units and there are bad ones. I would especially recommend one that has intensive therapy available in the inpatient experience, instead of one that does the real work in the outpatient only.

Bring comfort items. Wear whatever clothes make you comfortable and happy, regardless of how they look. (Seriously, I spent the week in a huge handmade skirt because it made me smile.) If it makes you feel happy to put on makeup, bring it; if not, you aren't trying to impress anyone. If you want to see your family, tell them; if you don't want to see your family, the hospital can block them from visiting. Do not feel bad about this--sometimes we all need some space to heal. If your family does visit, have them bring your favorite indulgent snacks, or maybe some cookie dough to make cookies. Many units have kitchens and refridgerators for patient use, and now is not the time to worry about calories or nutrition. Stock yourself with paper and pens for writing, if writing out situations helps you to understand or explain them. Don't forget basic toiletries (shampoo, toothpaste), and don't forget a couple good, LIGHT books. (You'll have a lot of down time.) Now is not the time for War and Peace or The Bell Jar. Go get some Jennifer Crusie or Nora Roberts or whatever light reading you prefer.

You are going to be ok. Whatever drugs they give you, whatever they say is wrong with you--you will be ok. Personality and mood disorders are NOT life sentences. You can get through it, you can put it into remission, and you can live a happy, healthy, and normal life. It's hard work, but you show the strength to get through it merely by admitting this weakness and considering the hospital as an option.

Good luck. I wish you the best. You're welcome to email me if you have any questions.

[superblondgirl]

Smackdown here, too, but seriously? Even though it sucks that you have to have the Crazy, it's so nice for the rest of us (me) to read about other people sufferering with this stuff. Though you are way cuter than I am, which makes it less fair... ; )
I'm glad your boss was cool and I hope the week away helps and you come out of it with more of a handle on things. Though, be forewarned - I've been in those places, and they wake you up ASS EARLY, and there is a lot of Group Sharing, and it is lame. But the intensive part with the meds and doctors is very helpful.
Come back and let us know how it went (I'm adding you to my google reader now so I can check back)!

[Kristin]

Wishing you all the best. You can beat this!

[Meghan]

I should have probably mentioned it before, but I left med school in the middle of my third semester because I knew if I stayed there I would not live to my graduation. I packed up and left, and it pissed off a lot of people, especially family members who valued the idea of having a doctor in the family above having a happy healthy me in the family. Fortunately, my immediate family and my real friends were just happy I had enough wits about me to ask for help. It was the biggest hurdle I had to jump. The months that followed were not easy by any means, but they were all less hard than admitting to myself and everyone else that I was so completely lost. The head of the school dept was wonderful and had lots of "when you're up to it, we'd love to have you back" kinds of statements, and that made me feel ok enough to leave and get help, having the security blanket that I hadn't just eff-ed up my entire future by leaving school, I could always go back later. Once I was able to look at my life clearly and get some perspective, I knew that it wasn't AT ALL what I wanted, and I've not looked back since then.

[Molly]

I think being able to admit to yourself that you have a mental illness is about the best thing anybody can do for themselves, especially when the next best thing is to do something about it. You've taken two steps that are seriously important in getting better, so feel good about that! I say this from experience, because I was very quick to tackle my own depression. When I was in eighth grade, I already had a few years of negative and suicidal behavior under my belt. Though no one knew the extent of it, some friends joked that I needed to go on Prozac, and that's when I said, "Yes, I do." I asked my parents to put me in therapy, and I have been seeing the same psychologist ever since. The progress I have made from then (weekly visits), to a few years later when I better understood my upset (every other week), to today when I can pinpoint exactly what is occurring in my brain (a few times a year) is a great indication of what facing depression head-on can do.

The choice of how you tackle your depression is entirely up to you and those close to you. Maybe it's in-patient treatment, maybe it's medication, maybe it's having someone you can have a good long talk with on a regular basis, and maybe it's all of it. The best thing to do is be open about it--not in the way that you feel you must tell everyone (as Amalah said, you didn't have to tell your boss but it is great that you were able to), but in the way that you are open about it with yourself. It's best to accept that it's there, that you don't like it, that people around you don't like it, and it needs to go away. That is half the battle, and I have my fingers crossed that you'll come out victorious. :)

[Joceline]

Here from the Smackdown. I'm so glad to hear you're getting the help you need. My brother committed suicide this summer while my parents were frantically trying to get him into inpatient care of sorts. He couldn't admit he had a problem. Needless to say, all of us wish that he would have gotten the help he needed, but more so that he would have WANTED that help. You're being brave to admit you need help and to get it.

[Kimberly]

Also here from Smackdown. I just finished my first week of out-patient for my crazies. I am so glad you're going forward with getting treatment. I'm still a work-in-progress but I already feel better than I have in....well hell, better than I've ever felt. As scary as it is and as bumpy as the journey may be, know that you WILL feel better. It's amazing how people seem to rally around you when you stand up for yourself. I work in a law firm and fully expected to lose my job when I told them I needed to take a 3 week leave, instead my supervisor has been one of my biggest supporters through this. All the best to you!

[Someone Being Me]

Good for you. This is your life, your sanity. Don't let any job stand in the way of taking care of yourself.

[Angie (Chunky Photojournalist Barbie)]

Hiya Kate. I'm #12 or so, here from the Smackdown, here to give you to give you my support and tell you I have walked this path. I was very, very close to checking into an inpatient program in 2001, and sometimes wish I had for the benefit of starting antidepressants at a therapeutic dose instead of the excruciating 6-week gradual ramping up of one drug, only to find "Whoops! That's not the one!" and have to start all over with a new drug and gradual increases. It was a dark time. And above all else, I applaud your courage. Go! Fight! Win!

Depression, like infertility, is one of those things that people have LOTS of uninformed advice about. "Snap out of it" is the depressed person's version of "Just relax." Hate! People will tell you about herbal therapies that worked "like a charm" for their sister's roommate's cousin. The people who said, "Start working out! Exercise! Endorphins make you feel good!" when I could not gather the strength to get out of bed? Ha! Um, unhelpful suggestion! Bye!

Depression and mental illness in general is like a hydra, a mythological dragonlike creature with many heads. Sometimes when you cut off one head, another pops up. Depression can be like that. Once I finally got the suicidal ideation out of my head, Anxiety popped up with its trusty sidekicks, panic and paranoia.

But you know what I didn't have the ability to see when I was in the thick of my mental health crisis? So many of the things you describe- the paranoia and rage- it's all symptoms of the illness. The thing that makes depression so insidious is that it comes with a deep, committed belief that you will never be okay again. It's a symptom, not an outcome, and it's definitely not a destiny. I mean, when you think about it, diabetes doesn't come with a deep, committed belief that insulin will not help you, you know?

Winning this battle takes time and patience. Trust me, I keenly remember the feeling of being in so much internal, unreachable pain that I wanted to crawl out of my skin and let my skeleton around screaming. (Joke. That was a joke!) Allowing for time to help heal me did not feel like a luxury I could afford.

So here's my best piece of assvice, mm'kay? Fight depression with every tool and coping method you can muster up the strength for. Fight it on all fronts. Just keep putting one foot in front of the other. If you can, try to break down the way you think about your day in manageable increments. Take things one hour at a time. Renegotiate what you think you can handle at the start of the next hour.

I remember the overwhelming struggle, feeling like I was wwading through mud up to my hips. I desperately wanted someone to give me something I could do to just stop feeling like that, and I wanted it to start "working," like, six weeks prior.

So I'm gonna tell you now what helped me, little things and big things. Take what you can and keep going. That was one of my mantras: "If you're going through hell, KEEP GOING."

1.) Follow your doctor's instructions regarding medication. Please, please, please, I beg you- When you do start the meds and they kick in and you feel better, please do not decide "I'm better!" and go off them in six weeks. Pinky swear me you won't do that.

2.) Get therapy and get it now. Then, when you're out of crisis, allow yourself to seek out the RIGHT therapist for you if the one you started with isn't a good match. Unpacking your emotional baggage and getting to the heart of the problem (you know, after you've banished that nasty, persistent urge to die) is key to getting better and staying well. Psychiatrists are very different from psychologists, and masters' degree holding social workers are very different from pastors/rabbis/etc. It took me six therapists from 1997 to 2003 until I finally met the woman who ultimately helped me get to the point where I can say, "Hey, I've got emotional baggage, but at least it's cute and it all matches!" Har. Therapy is hard work, and the right guide is essential.

3. Avoid alcohol and marijuana as self-medication. I know they seem to dull the pain in the short-term, but they're depressents. Give your brain chemistry the best shot you can.

4. Stack the deck of cards in your favor with good sleep hygiene, nourishing food, gentle movement and plenty of sunlight. Some of the more unhelpful assvice (Exercise! Eat right! You'll feel GREAT!) has kernels of truth to it. Now is not the time to train for a 5K, do a lo-carb, no dairy diet on vacation in Hawaii, but I urge you to just try to do what you can. Even if you just stretch and sit near a window with the shades up, exposure to sunshine (or a happy light that recreates natural UV rays) made a difference for me in the dark, cold winter in Syracuse, NY (snow capitol of the universe) will help.

5. Shower every day. It's such as small thing, but it made me feel somewhat human. I used to have panic attacks at the thought of taking a shower. I wanted to, but all the steps involved seemed so overwhelming. Turning the taps on, shampoo, conditioner, soap and rinsing was like climbing Mt. Everest. My boyfriend sometimes had to turn the water on for me, guide me into the bathroom, hand me a stack of towels, and all but dunk me in the tub, but I always felt better afterwards.

6. Buy a mindless, funny novel. I highly recommend "Big Trouble" by Dave Barry. Or anything by Dave Barry. Brains get into habits, and I found a funny novel helped break up the merry-go-round of Crazy that would sometimes get going in my head. By contrast, it got to a point that movies would often trigger a backslide. I mean, I KNEW I wasn't going to be in a plane crash and have to live alone on a tropical island and befriend a volleyball, right? But for some reason, the movie Castaway sent me on a downward spiral of crying and fear when I saw it in the theater. Same with Gladiator. I KNEW I wasn't going to get dragged into the Coliseum and forced to wrestle tigers or whatever, but that movie really threw me for a loop. Dave Barry's books do not have violence in them, or depressed people, or people with eating disorders or injured animals or children. They do, however, have gratuitious mentions of giant zucchini. Good stuff.

7. Let people help you with the small stuff. Part of focusing on getting yourself better means letting go of some things for now. Let your "knitting circle" (love that, by the way) take what they can off your plate, and don't feel guilty about it. Trust me, now that I've come out on the other side, I can see how very badly they needed concrete things that they could do to help. When I was sick, I lived in a group house of college girlfriends. We shared an adorable puppy. I knew my depression was raging out of control when I got no joy from playing with a PUPPY, you know? They took all the chores and walks that were designated as "mine" off my hands. My sister drove six hours through a snowstorm to do my laundry and leave me a week's worth of nourishing, microwaveable meals.

That's enough assvice, for now, I think. Fight this, Kate. Fight it every way you can. Everything will be okay in the end. If it's not okay yet, it's not the end. You can do this. There were people on the other side when I was going through this: survivors of depressions, friends, family, a compassionate boss, a doctor with a prescription pad, a talented therpist. They were reaching out for me, and I stretched and strained to grab their hands and couldn't reach. I did that for months. And then I got there. I finally reached their fingertips and and jumped with all my might. They caught me, Kate. They grabbed my wrists and elbows and tugged. I found my footing, and I'm safe here on the other side with my coping skills, maintenence meds, and emotional baggage repacked in color-coordinated, ergonomically friendly luggage.

You are doing the right thing. I will keep checking your blog for updates, and I'll be out here rooting for you with all my heart. Courage, girlfriend. Courage.