On Robin Williams and Depression

TW: Suicide

TracieWrites vs. Depression: Round 2

I quit my job today.

“Quit” is such a nasty word in my opinion, filled with so many negative connotations. I could phrase the process of quitting my job in many ways: leaving, resigning, admitting defeat, parting ways with the company and so on. But the fact of the matter is: I had to do it. I had to quit, I had to leave.

I hate admitting defeat, I hate not seeing a project through to the end. Taking my degree in Biology nearly killed me, but I finished it and came out of the other end. I won’t say “unscathed” because it is highly likely that some of my current issues are rooted in those of the past, but I made it. I got my piece of paper and it is filed away with all my other certificates and achievements. But a job… it doesn’t have a beginning or an end, just one work day after another, after another. Whilst every day is different, every day is also the same monotonous drag.

Because I was working in the care industry.

And the care industry, it’s brutal. It offers a much-needed service to the people who have to make use of it, but for the staff, it is awful. It is minimum wage, menial work. As I was ‘only’ the kitchen assistant and the vast majority of my job essentially boiled down to washing up, this meant that in terms of respect from co-workers, I was very near the bottom of the pecking order. But whilst that was frustrating because so many people (namely, the carers) talked nonsense and I tried to correct them but they didn’t listen, the main problem has always been the demons in my head.

For the past seven and a half years, my health has been failing me at every single term. Chronic headache, chronic migraines, asthma, anxiety and depression only ever feed into one another in a downhill spiral. Being in a depressing environment, constantly surrounded by bitching women, spats over nothing and so much death, it’s only natural that I am in a much worse state than I was when I first entered my job.

There have been some changes for the better, mind. I’m better at organising money and budgeting now. I have come out of my shell a little bit more and am more inclined to speak my mind – even if it does sometimes feel like banging my head against that proverbial brick wall. And I am sure there are other things too, which have helped me grow as a person… but the detrimental side effects of my health were becoming far too much for me to be able to stay in the job.

The care industry requires a huge committment and loyalty from its’ staff. It literally cannot handle it if people are regularly off sick; you need to be reliable in order for the home to operate effectively. Whilst I am still more than capable of doing the job in question, my health is deteriorating at such a fast pace that it is scaring me and others around me. I am a health risk to myself and others at work because a kitchen is a very dangerous place for a semi-suicidal woman to be. As my (now, ex) boss phrased it, ‘it’s an accident waiting to happen.’ All it would take is for me to be working with a migraine and feeling low for me to accidentally spill a hot liquid over myself – or worse, a resident – and for chaos to ensue afterwards.

That, and it may go without saying, but it was really destroying my soul.

I love the residents at work and they love me. There’s some who are especially dear to my heart and I will miss seeing them frequently so much. I have been given an open invitation to visit there as much as I like, especially with the rabbits as the residents adore seeing them. I have also been told that when I have sorted out everything I need to, they will see if they can find a job for me. The boss has already started considering laundry work because it is far less stressful than kitchen work is. That is nice because it feels like when I get better, I still have a prospect of work, of sorts. So, whilst I may be unemployed now and needing to claim some sort of incapacity benefit, there is something for me to go back to when I am better.

However, there’s another, small, light which I am clinging onto. It’s something that is there for me through thick and thin, something which I find myself needing to do regardless of my mindset. It’s something that is said to be very therapeutic for seriously depressed people. And luckily, it’s the one thing I have always loved: writing.

So, I have already made a very simple mental note for myself. The time which I used to spend at work, I am going to write my novel. The rest of the time, I will spend doing other stuff, and maybe add some ‘fun’ writing to boot. Hopefully having grown used to the structure of work and play will mean I can stick to this mental promise to myself. And also, this will hopefully mean that I won’t have to return to my old job. Instead, maybe I will be able to follow these dreams of mine. That’d be nice.

I also have a cheerleader of sorts in my closest friend, who is training to be a doctor. She’s going to start coming over more often. Whilst she studies, I’ll write. That way, neither of us will be alone but we will both have somebody else being productive.

I can’t say I’m optimistic about the future. In truth, today, I simply feel blank.

But I know there’s something out there for me.

For now, I need to keep reminding myself that I haven’t failed by admitting that I can’t work anymore. On the contrary, this is my way of claiming my life back. Or at least, I hope it is.

Related articles

• TracieWrites vs. Depression: Round 1 (traciewrites.wordpress.com)
• Why people neglect treatment for depression (anchoredinknowledge.wordpress.com)