Let me start by saying that its been 9 months since panic and anxiety started ruling my life. 9 months. The amount of time it takes to produce a human. In that time I have had to endure so much agony, fear, loss of selfconfidence, self-worth and ultimately, the belief I will ever fully get my life back.
I have had to listen and constantly tried to repair the terrible lies the Director has spread about me, and keeps doing it. I’ve gone to her boss. I’ve gone to HR and as far as I am aware, there will be no formal reprimand. Her boss is going to talk to her.
Great. She is disrespecting her boss almost as badly, and they are going to talk. I wonder if that would be the same response if it were me, another manager or someone not related to the President and CEO of the company.
Defamation of character. Apparently that’s okay where we work. Libelous. Why not. It’s a non-profit after all. Why SHOULDN’T the Director be okay behaving in such a way. It’s not like we are talking about corporate America where values define them….
So, after 9 months of torment, here I sit. Anxious. A shell of who I was last year at this time.
What has brought me here? What dropped me into this hole?
I think it was the perfect storm.
A few incidents lit the fuse and life kept adding fuel. The Director, kept adding gas.
I believe having so many bats after a major surgery, caused my nerves to be sharpened. I believe having the Director slip in little comments about how the company as a whole can’t stand me but SHE keeps my job safe, unleashed the hounds.
Hearing, frequently, how you’re viewed as “difficult, arrogant or flat out disliked” by co-workers, supervisors and leadership within the company you have been.with for several years, wears on you.
I was told by the Director that she is the only one that “gets me”. She expressed irritation because she had to constantly defend me for things people took wrong or that I unknowingly insulted.
When pressed for names or details, I was told she took care of it and its fine now.
I’m not that person so, of course it caused me great distress.
My feeling is that those messages time and time again were slowly eroding my foundation. My strength. My, everything.
I think the final blow came when I had gotten so depressed, I went to a clinic to see about medication. I felt utterly worthless and felt I was pretty far down.
After discussing in great detail my sensitivity to medication, the lady prescribed me 20mg of Celexa. I waited until I had a long weekend to take it, just in case I felt ill or tired. Little did I know, it would send me to the emergency room.
It took me 4 days to shake it from my system and I have been in a state of anxiety/panic ever since.
There are times I feel like I’m getting stronger. However, work slaps me back down.
There are moments I feel like “I can get past this”, and then the Director and her actions makes an appearance, and then I feel like I’ll never really live my life again.
“Why don’t you take medicine and see if that helps?” Is the NEVER ENDING question I get from everyone.
Don’t you think I would, if I could?!!
I have to argue with myself just to take an over the counter pain reliever for headache or muscle aches.
After the medication incident, I refuse to take anything. I’ve filled numerous prescriptions. I refuse to take any. At all. I can’t.
When my heart was going wild (Docs feel it is stress induced), I was prescribed all kinds of things that he felt would calm down the skipped and extra beats. It would have given me relief. I could not take any of it. Said I did, said it didn’t work or made me tired because docs get PISSED when you refuse to take medication.
I couldn’t. I can’t.
I explain it this way.
You’re at the edge of a cliff. It’s a straight drop to rocks. A raging fire has circled you.
What do you do?
Jump and you die on the rocks. Go through the fire and you burn to death.
That’s where, to the depths of my SOUL, I am with medication. I cannot, CANNOT make myself take it.
I’ve tried. I’ve belittled and mentally beaten myself up repeatedly about it.
Doesnt ANYONE understand that I sure would not subject myself to this agony if I didn’t have to?!
It is SO painful, so life altering that I would LOVE to take a medication that would remove this searing, never ending, relentless pain from my life.
But, I can’t.
I claw my way through every moment of every day.
Today is my birthday. I don’t care. My spouse wants to celebrate. I don’t care. I pass it off as everyone getting home too late and having to work the next day. I suggested Sunday….it gives me time to try and figure out how to get put of it by then.
I don’t want to celebrate anything. I don’t want to make plans I know I can’t keep. This THING that controls my world doesn’t allow for planning. Doesn’t allow fun.
I keep appointments I have with other people because of their time. Not because of mine.
I go to work every day because my family needs me to. If I didn’t have them, I wouldn’t subject myself to leaving the house. Leaving my bed.
It’s my 44th birthday and I have more contempt for myself than I did on my 14th birthday. Contempt because I just cannot get out of this hole.
Guilt over how I am stuck like this, guilt over my spouse essentially being alone. Guilt over not being strong any more. Guilt over wasting 8 years with a company that allows someone to do the things that are being done without apology. Without change. Without care. Guilt that my family wants me to be excited about presents they spent their money and time picking out, and I am not. I will fake it later, for them. But honestly, I wish they would get their money back and just let the day wither away like the rest of my life.
Happy Birthday to those that can enjoy it!