Pity.

It’s been a couple days since I was terminated. During that time I’ve cried a lot, medicated, and hidden in my bed. My brain is not currently a place I want to be in. I have felt a multitude of feelings and emotions in the past day. Feel free to choose any synonym for “sad” and I can assure you I have felt it. But in the end, all I feel is numb. Losing my job has put me right back into the deepest crevice my depression has to offer me. I’ve never felt it this badly before. The despair, the guilt, the shame, the fear – none of it can hold a candle to the nothingness. The emptiness. I’m afraid of my own heart right now.

I tried to overcome it today, I really did. I told myself that I was in charge of my own emotions. That I could choose to be okay with the way things panned out. So I went to the grocery store. I made dinner. I laughed while watching The Office. But as soon as it was over, I was right back in the middle of my head again. It’s not somewhere I want to be. I want to turn out the light, and just stop feeling. I want these feelings to stop. I feel like depression is a disease tattooed all over my body and there is absolutely nothing I can do to stop it. It’s spreading. I has already enveloped everything I know. Every thought, every feeling, every idea I have.

That first night as I lay in my bed and told myself not to take another sleeping pill, I just gave in. My depression gets to win, at least tonight.

I never, ever thought this would be me. But is that even the truth? I should have seen it coming, shouldn’t I?

Letting people go is something my organization has done many times. It’s somewhat habitual, actually. The words “termination” are words I’ve personally written in many letters to unsuspecting employees during my career there. I always felt sick doing it. Did my employer ever think about how easily they choose to fire people? How it affects these people? What is it about them that makes them come to the conclusion that severing ties with a living, breathing human being is a better idea than trying to work it out, give warnings or second chances? Work on the person rather than replacing him or her? Or is my employer’s quest for gold just too intoxicating? The prospect of walking down that path they’ve cleared for themselves must be much easier than walking up a mountain road to fix a problem. Do they know that the organization is known as the company “where [redacted job title]s go to die”? You can insert three or four specific job titles in there. Mine too, I guess.

And while I’ve now lumped myself into that group of those who were doomed, I can’t help but take a disparate view and say to myself that “I am different than all of them.”

Because I never fucked up on the job. I had glowing reviews. They gave me raises when I requested them. They praised my work, and even flaunted their achievements to their rivals while giving me due credit. More than once, they told me that certain projects were in the best shape they’d ever seen.

But they fired me anyway. I went on an anxiety- and depression-induced medical leave of absence, and the day they told me was my first day back in the office, they fired me. They replaced me. They lied to me when we discussed my return to work plan. They had a minion lie to me, too.

Aside from how abject my mind is, and how wronged I feel, I feel sorry for them. If there is one emotion I feel from the bottom of what’s left of my heart’s ability to feel, it’s pity.

My boss is a kid. His dad created this company, not him. He never had to work from the ground up. He was given opportunities to succeed that millions of people would never have been given. Deep down, I know he knows his privilege and advantage in life.

The next day, when I came to pick up my things, I noticed that he avoided eye contact. He shot the shit with a random dude and excused himself to make a “conference call.” But I know his game. And I feel bad for him. Because he’s playing the “fake it till you make it” game. And it’s not working. He hasn’t enough experience to face things and man up.

The worst part is that he is playing that game with peoples’ lives. He has taught me nothing but the fact that mental health stigma is still very real, and that people who try to get better are going to end up fucked over. 

That’s the golden rule in action, isn’t it.

This post is a mess. I’m sorry. But my mind is a mess, too.

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Numb.

I’ve just been fired.

After being on medical leave for 6-7 weeks, instead of my first day back being my first day back, they fired me. I’ve never been fired before.

They’re supposed to give me my job back after a medical leave of absence. This is the premise on which I’ve been doing my therapy; this is the basis on which I’ve been psyching myself out: my goal has been “return to work.”

I didn’t have a plan for “get fired” even in the abstract. I never thought it was even a possibility.

But here I am.

I’m no longer on medical leave. I’ve been fired.

I feel like a massive truck just came out of nowhere and smashed any possible mental wellbeing I had cultivated over the past few weeks. All the hard work I did – smashed without any regard for how hard it was did me to accomplish.

I’m back at square one – but lower. At least before, I had a job to return to. I took solace in that. It was comforting.

Now I feel at a complete loss – what do I do? What is my plan? My Ego was right all along – I had reason to listen to Fear and heed its warning. Am I wrong?

I don’t have the energy to think about any of that right now.

All I know to be true is that today, I was fired

And I cannot help but feel that my mental health is the reason.

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Fear is here. Again.

The other night, I was at home reflecting on a conversation I’d had earlier that day with a friend. She is also on medical leave (for vastly different reasons), but what we do have in common is the fact that we both feel guilty when we are enjoying ourselves during this break.

I mean, if someone is off work because they’re laid up in the hospital with some kind of illness, they’re supposed to be miserable, right? They look miserable. Maybe they’ve got a physical injury like a broken bone – that’s easy enough to see and immediately sympathize with. Or if someone has cancer and has just gone through chemotherapy, it’s possible that they do not look like there is anything physically wrong with them, but we sure as hell wouldn’t blame them for staying in bed all day. And if that someone is on a leave of absence, no one will ask questions. It’s obvious and universally agreed to.

But when you’re dealing with an invisible illness, it’s just not the same. I feel like I have to constantly convince everyone that I’m “sick” enough to be away from work. And honestly? Sometimes I feel like I have to convince myself of that, too. It’s a really sucky double whammy of frustration.

Other people’s thoughts are entirely out of our control. I struggle with letting go of what other people think all of the time, but this time it’s more personal than ever. I worry constantly about when I return to work. What will people think? I’m sure they all know that I have not lost a family member, I haven’t been in an accident, and I haven’t fallen gravely ill. I once told someone that I hoped everyone was assuming that I had a miscarriage (please, please forgive me for saying that. I do not wish to say that in a way that offends anyone. I said it only because it’s the only ‘invisible’ thing that came to mind that would happen to a young woman who doesn’t have kids yet, that does not linger nor show any visible symptoms, and likely would not be talked about openly in the workplace). How sad is it that I’d rather they assume it was something physical because it would guarantee sympathy?

And battling these feelings with myself? That’s another story. It almost causes me to do things like wallow in bed, not shower, and indulge in endless Netflix streaming. I feel like I should not be outside, smiling, or enjoying myself. I shouldn’t have any reason to put on makeup, so I don’t. I shouldn’t have anywhere to go and no one to impress, so I have no excuse to be showering and choosing a nice outfit.

I’ve basically sentenced myself to becoming a sweats-wearing hermit who prefers sleep to showers.

I’m terrified of the unknown. What people are thinking, and what my actions may or may not cause them to conclude.

I know my Ego is the one who comes to these harsh conclusions. The Ego is who makes uncertainty scary.

I am learning more and more that I need to cultivate a friendly relationship with the unknown and uncertainty. Because when you think about it, there is no certainty.

The sun could explode tomorrow, and none of this would exist anymore – that possibility in and of itself, though very slim, proves that nothing is certain. In order to truly be comfortable in life, we need to be comfortable with uncertainty.

So if I try to think about all of this from this place, the place of being comfortable with the unknown, what would I be thinking?

I’d be thinking that Fear is here, and that’s not me. Fear is just fear, it’s just an emotion. A bunch of feelings that I am experiencing. Fear is a pretty mouthy guy, but he’s not here forever and he doesn’t know the truth about anything any more than I do.

This makes me feel relaxed, and my safety and wellbeing are not affected by Fear, by the illusion of control in life.

Things change, people think thoughts, and life goes on. My life will go on, too.

Right now, being at home feels more comfortable for me. And when I can laugh, I feel good. When I go out in the sun, I feel good. When I shower, do my hair, and put on makeup, I feel like I’m part of society and I belong. When I’m in that state, I am better at seeing all of the feelings I experience as clouds that pass by. I don’t feel like I’m stewing in my feelings the way I do when I’m closed off from the world.

I need to keep my heart open and just… chill.

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