Depression Marathon Blog

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Diagnosed with depression 18 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!

Saturday, August 25, 2018


Sometimes, for whatever reason, patients feel they are the only ones in the facility requiring care at that particular time. And when that happens they tend to be not-so-nice. Today, at the end of a long week, the first two patients I encountered had this attitude and freely unloaded their displeasure upon me. In one case, I had barely entered the room to introduce myself.

This doesn't happen all that often, so it was certainly unusual to have it happen twice in a row, and before the clock hit 8:30 AM, no less! All I could do was stand and listen to the complaints. There's little use interrupting or correcting the errors in the conspiratorial assumptions. Although I did finally point out to one patient that her nurse just might be in another room assisting another patient at that time. It's frustrating to be in the position of defending myself prior to even making an introduction.

Maybe I've been on the helper side too long, but I really don't understand where patients get the idea that their nurses, or therapists, or doctors are out to get them. That the nurse is 15 minutes late with pills, for example, because she is inept, doesn't care, or doesn't like the patient. I know there are a few bad apples out there, but those of us in these helping professions generally do care about the people we are trying to help. Sheesh...

And so began my work day today. It was tough. I'm already (still) feeling a little off, a little cranky myself, and worried about my mood. I had to take a few quiet breaks, once in the chapel, to make sure I approached each patient with compassion and respect, as they deserve, despite my inner turmoil or their outward behavior. I'm glad I was able to do so successfully. And the added patient at the end of my day was quite grateful for my assistance. I felt like I made a difference. That's what it's all about, even if I do have to get through a little muck to get there.

Be nice, my friends. Be nice.

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