Depression Marathon Blog

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Diagnosed with depression 17 years ago, I lost the life I once knew, but in the process re-created a better me. I am alive and functional today because of my dog, my treatment team, my sobriety, and my willingness to re-create myself within the confines of this illness. I hate the illness, but I'm grateful for the person I've become and the opportunities I've seized because of it. I hope writing a depression blog will reduce stigma and improve the understanding and treatment of people with mental illness. All original content copyright to me: etta. Enjoy your visit!

Wednesday, July 8, 2009

Don't you hate crying?


I hate crying, especially in public! I cried at work today. It was one of those frustration/angry cries. I was so frustrated and angry, my voice cracked and tears came out instead of words. We were in the middle of one of "those" staff meetings.

I mentioned in this space yesterday how negative my work environment has been lately. That's what the meeting was about. Well, actually, that's what it ended up being about. I have no idea exactly why it was started, but we ended up airing resentments and concerns. I've been feeling the resentments floating around, so I guess it was good to air them, but I hate crying! Fortunately, I did get to say what I needed to say--that I was feeling nit-picked to death, that I felt we weren't working together as a team, and that I was tired of hearing only criticism, never anything positive. It was when I told them I was doing the best I could that my voice cracked. God, I hate that.

The fact is, I am doing the best I can. I'm no longer very good at multi-tasking, thanks to depression and ECT, so I often miss a line on a form, forget to deliver a copy of some paperwork somewhere, or miss my productivity expectations. The amount of paperwork I need to do is overwhelming, and I frequently don't do it perfectly. Furthermore, I no longer care about perfection. Unfortunately, my colleagues value perfection and seemingly nothing less. They never miss an opportunity to point out the missed line, the forgotten copy, or the lesser productivity--none of which effects the treatment I provide my patients.

So, I said, "I'm doing the best I can," and my voice cracked. I stopped talking, but I couldn't stop the damn tears. They rolled down my face. I was embarrassed. I wanted to be anywhere else but there, but I stayed. The tears eventually stopped, and we actually got a couple of things resolved. As for the overall tone of the place? Too soon to tell. I hope it changes. I can't stand the negativity much longer. And I don't want to be reduced to tears at work ever again.

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