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Looking for a Job When You’re Depressed: Circumstantial, not Existential

No Help WantedLooking for a job when you’re in the midst of a depression is really fucking hard. I think that’s step number one – acknowledge that what you’re doing is really really hard. It’d be hard for someone who’s healthy. And it’s especially hard for those of us who are not.

I’m currently in this position, having been told by my current employer that my contract won’t be renewed past January. Luckily for me, I’m not suffering from a major depressive episode, just trying to recover from one.

The thing is that I don’t have a lot of hope. Despite my fancy education and respectable resume, I don’t believe that any job could be fulfilling or rewarding or anything but awful, so the tasks of applying become almost impossible. I am FILLED with dread.

Then of course there’s the feeling of being overwhelmed. I am directionless because I find myself believing that every option is bad, so I’m unable to narrow things down. I also find it difficult, like many people looking for work, to convince myself that the next job won’t be forever. That it’s not one of the biggest decisions of my life. So it’s overwhelming both in breadth and in depth.

In a word: it sucks.

This is too complex a problem for a “Five Step Guide.” One has to do some soul searching and take each day as it comes. One has to build a schedule and stick to it. A schedule that includes off time, when you’re not thinking about the job search. A schedule that includes exercise and whatever other therapies work for you. I believe that one has to try to think ambitiously about what one is qualified for, and then do the hard work of reaching out to people. One must try not to think too far in the future or let themselves believe that they know what it holds.

The fish is deadI am trying to be honest with my support network, which is difficult because they see more potential in me than I see in myself. I often feel like their advice is ludicrous: they tell me all the cool things I can do with my fish, not understanding that the fish are dead. So I am trying to fake it until I make it.

I’m trying not to “catastrophize” things. I am trying to remember that my job does not define me, that it is not the source of my happiness. I am trying to be patient and flexible. I am trying to think of this problem as circumstantial, not existential.

Anyone out there got a job they wanna give me? 🙂

First photo by BillsoPHOTO on Flickr.

Second photo by Bhope34 on Flickr.

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Can I Just Say? #7 – The Trouble with the Closet

StigmaThe trouble with the closet is that you have to lie ALL the time. I lie about my day, I lie about why I stopped drinking, I lie about my weight, my social life, my job, my plans.

And the trouble with lying is that it hurts. It makes me feel ashamed. Because lying is something you do when you’re scared to admit something, when you’re ashamed to face it. It makes me feel alone. You know why? Because it makes me more alone. I’m more isolated because people don’t understand, because they can’t understand because I’m lying to them.

Shame and isolation – just what the doctor ordered!

Even my therapist believes that depression is something personal – something to disclose only to close friends and family. I want badly to disagree. I want to rage at the injustice, the silliness. If it were epilepsy, if it were cystic fibrosis or cancer, not only could I tell mere acquaintances, but they might sign a petition about the NIH. My family might organize a fundraiser or participate in a walk-a-thon.

Do you hear what I mean? People might support me. If my disease were different.

As it is I’m advised – by every single person – to keep it quiet.

As it is I’m left lying, using a pseudonym to share my thoughts.

As it is I’m getting tired.

The thing is, guys, that I’m not ashamed. The truth is that I’m not alone.

It’s tricky because you really do run the risk of being stigmatized, being called lazy or irresponsible, incompetent, unreliable. The thing is it’s probably not a good idea to come out as depressed in most workplaces, to most acquaintances. Eugh.

I just want to say that if you feel like it’s wrong, you’re right. And you have no reason to be ashamed. And you are not alone.

Photo by See-ming Lee on Flickr.

The Meta Thoughts

Bebop Sleeping

Bebop Sleeps

I was chilling on my back porch the other day with my adorable dog on my lap. Suddenly I was sure that the reason my doctor hadn’t called me back was that I have cancer and they don’t know how to break it to me. They know I’m depressed so they want me to come in in-person. I’m never going to have children and then for the rest of my life people will look at me and think, “How sad. She always wanted children.” A blow like this will sink me back into the worst of my depression. I’m never going to get better. That’s my future. I’m never getting better.

See that? Blink of an eye and I’m like four steps into my hypothetical, mourning my imagined losses, starting to panic.

This is the moment when therapy, or some other intentional recovery effort, does something. Before I started recovering, a turn like this would have landed me in bed, completely shut down and miserable. Now…

The Meta Thoughts

The Meta Thoughts

Enter: The META THOUGHTS

Instead of following the hypothetical, I realize that it’s just a hypothetical. I realize that I’m panicking, that I’m entering a tailspin. I realize that nothing bad has actually happened.

I got up, shook myself. Put a leash on my dog, went for a walk and called a friend.

After a bit of distraction and support from my friend, after I was able to calm down, I remembered that not every thought deserves its day in court (or its time in rumination-ville).

The appearance of the Meta Thoughts is new for me – the inkling that bad thoughts aren’t real events. If you don’t know what I’m talking about – I’m genuinely happy for you. If you do, try to remember, they’re there for you – those heroic Meta Thoughts.

 

Second photo by Lisa Cyr on Flickr.

God Wants You to be Happy

I’ve never believed in a higher power and I’ve never wanted to, except as a child when I thought my extended family believed I was going to hell. I’ve never had faith in Christ or heaven and I don’t want it.

book heartBut you don’t have to believe in magic to have respect for the sacred. You don’t have to be religious or spiritual to live a life of wonder or of meaning. In my life there’s never been anything as sacred, as wonderful, or as meaningful as love.

I find that if I replace the word “God” with the word “Love,” suddenly religious sentiments make sense to me.

I want to dedicate my life to love.

I’m moved by the idea of shaping myself into a vessel of love.

love and happinessSo when my aunt looked at me with love in her eyes and said that God wants me to be happy, it made perfect, profound, beautiful sense. It’s about permission. However you get there, whether it’s God telling you, or Love, or someone you deeply respect – it’s about permission to pursue your own happiness. Treating wellbeing as a valid goal – I’m not there yet, but I’m getting closer.

You’ve heard it before: God is love.

And you’ve felt it before: Love wants you to be happy.

Happy Dog

 

 

First photo by Marcelino Rapayla Jr. on Flickr

Second photo by Gustavo Jeronimo on Flickr

Final photo by Brit Selvitelle on Flickr

Farting is Good for You

A good friend of mine was recently doing some things that depressives like me do all the time: she was worrying about things she couldn’t control, making plans and contingency plans for situations that would never come to pass, and generally freaking herself out.

We settled on this little strategy, which I think could be helpful for a lot of us.

1. Pick a little mantra for yourself, something you want to remember several times a day. Maybe it’s to be kind to yourself, to rest, or to think of someone you love. Maybe it’s to remember that you can’t control everything, or that you will get through this. My friend decided on “Not everything is a big deal.”

2. Pick a bodily function that happens often, one that you always notice but can’t control, like a ringing in your ear, or feeling the urge to fart. Concentrate hard on associating that bodily function with the mantra.

Bam. Free, consistent, daily reminder of that good-for-you thing that’s just out of reach.

Bam. Farting just became good for you.

Fartist

 

 

Photo cropped from a photo by Ludovic Burton on Flickr.