I have been feeling worse since I last wrote about my panic attacks.
I have had an unfilled prescription slip for Fluoxetine (an anti-depressant) sitting in my bedroom drawer since September 2013. I didn’t want to use it – not because I think antidepressants are bad, I have used them before and they undoubtedly saved my life at that time – but because my depression is caused by circumstances (having a job that is wrong for me). And if I can fix those circumstances, I will be absolutely fine.
However I haven’t been able, so far, to fix my circumstances. I haven’t got an answer yet to the question “what job is right for me” and in the meantime bills still need to be paid. Recently my anxiety is getting more serious, I’ve started losing my temper a lot at home and am finding it increasingly harder to concentrate, do simple chores or do anything I enjoy.
On Sunday, amongst my usual dreading the next day and hoping I would not wake up to see it, I realised I can’t continue like this anymore, I am going to fall apart if I don’t do something. There is no point me looking for another job as, unless it is a job I am going to enjoy, it would simply be replacing one bad situation for another. So it came down to a choice between either quitting work, which I cannot afford to do, or filling that prescription.
This morning, I have taken my first capsule.
In my writing project (which I’ll be mentioning a lot so I’ll call it Project X for now), I wrote about how I overcame my last bout of depression by making changes to my personal life, some hard, some ruthless, but necessary. But I realised, when I wrote the following summary, I hadn’t given the same treatment to my working life:
“I will literally force myself to the point of breakdown to stay in a job that is wrong for me. I will entertain fantasies of hurting myself just to escape walking in the office on Monday. I will cry before, during and after a day at work. I will have panic attacks. I will go through such depths of emotional despair, panic and frustration at work, then come home and desperately dread the next day. I will feel increasingly crushed and hopeless to the point I question why I am here. I will call myself ‘a nothing’.
I will start to lose my temper at home. I will just want to lie in bed. I will start to hope I don’t wake up the next morning and the only relief will come when I lie with my eyes closed pretending I am lying in cool, dark earth having no thoughts or feelings”.
It has been a wake-up call writing this and realising just how I have only made positive changes to half my life. That other half desperately needs attending to.
But it is difficult because of the money aspect. I have compromised my wellbeing because I thought, and still do think I suppose, that it’s necessary to do whatever you have to do to pay your bills.
Because it’s not like when you decide you deserve to be treated better by certain friends and you declare “I will only accept xyz, accept it or leave”, and they think “oh OK, I best give you xyz then!” or they can’t be bothered and slink off. Your feelings might be hurt but your safety isn’t compromised.
I can’t suddenly say “I will only accept xyz job”. and the world will reply “oh OK, I best give you xyz job then!”. Nobody else cares what I want. You either accept what is offered or they will find someone else and you will sit at home acquiring debts and getting into a heap of financial pickle. I can’t just say “sod you then, I’m sticking to my principles!” and ride off into the sunset, I will be riding into big trouble. So it’s harder to have boundaries and standards I think.
What do you think?