CW: depression
A few weeks ago I shared a post on Facebook about mental health days that are actually about managing mental illness, admitting I really struggle to take one when I need it. (It’s 2017 and Mental Health is still an issue in the workplace) I will always remember this article. Like a beacon of hope that managers are starting to “get it”. Even if it’s just a handful. It starts somewhere. I’m on a team with leadership and peers that understand so it is a lot easier to practice self care.
Actually practicing is completely different.
Today I woke up feeling extremely heavy and hollow. It took me a long time to get out of bed after my alarm went off. I have been trying all morning to actually work and distract myself (or deny this is my current reality and just numb out) and aside from a few easy emails — it would have been better served in bed.
Somewhat unrelated I decided to work from home today. There is a teen afternoon carpool I agreed to help with, knowing I had to be home for a new house cleaner this afternoon (I am looking forward to that) I could have gone in this morning to focus and have my large monitors and see some coworkers. While lying in bed thinking of not showering or having to move or put on a mask felt much more attractive. No — attractive isn’t the right word — the weight of actually joining society today is too much to bear. If a shower feels like immense effort and dedication, how could I do anything else?
I’ve been teary and shaking. My mind was having an all out battle about taking the few meetings I have, power through and deal. To cancel and tell people I’m home sick. To sit here and do what I want in the moment and be present whatever that means. As much as I want to be strong enough to go be in bed, decades of conditioning tell me that isn’t appropriate. Or allowable. I’ll be judged. I’ll look weak. I should be able to just deal given I’ve lived that approach my whole life (i.e. practicing sucks and doing it the same way feels easier even when it’s more work)
I’m fearful of even publishing this. (I think I say that every time I write about my exact and in-the-moment pain) That people I’ve seen or chatted with this week will reach out. Or anyone for that matter. I’m in a brittle and sensitive place right now. I feel extra tightly wound. I don’t want to be touched. I’d rather not look in anyone’s face. I know I would break down and cry (weakness, judgment, rinse, repeat). And there is a quiet voice somewhere reminding me every time I share openly, I become a little more willing to let someone take care of me (my jaw is clenched and the tears are back) I want it but I don’t want it. Open your arms and I might run away.
This morning has been a mix of tears and stilted meetings. I haven’t done any real work, I’m going through the motions. So is that a true mental health day? No, it isn’t. It’s lunchtime, I’m hungry and thinking about what self care will look like the rest of the day. My paper is blank right now.
I feel shameful and raw and terrified of being honest.
(hit publish before I change my mind)
