I began experiencing physically health issues even before I burned out
at my last job almost five years ago. Initially it was the odd illness
and infection, something that would normally be short-lived but even
those began to stretch out and my plan ...
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I began experiencing physically health issues even before I burned out
at my last job almost five years ago. Initially it was the odd illness
and infection, something that would normally be short-lived but even
those began to stretch out and my plan to take time out to recharge went
out the window almost immediately. As for my mental health, I’ve gone
through several periods of varying lengths of severe depression during
my lifetime, and looking back, I’m not sure that depression ever really
goes away. In my case, long-term stress, coupled with physical
exhaustion and a sense of being trapped in a seemingly hopeless
situation seems to be the trigger. Even before the underlying cause of
my physical health issue was discovered, severe depression had set in. I
wasn’t thinking clearly when I stopped work and spent 18 months living
in a haze, during which time I lived off my savings and drew on my super
until I had nothing left. I don’t know how I found the strength, if that
is the right term, to approach Centerlink for assistance but at some
point I did. I don’t remember much of what was discussed but I do recall
breaking down in tears at some point during the assessment. Several
years have passed since and I am still stuck in the same loop, physical
and mental health issues continue, concerns about accommodation,
financial debt I can never repay, and the list goes on. I can only
describe my depression as paralysing, an inability to act. There is this
whirlpool constantly churning in my head and I am frozen. Numerous
psychologist, counsellors, etc., have dutifully handed me details of
charities and organisations that I should contact for help but if it
were that easy, wouldn’t I have already found and contacted them. I take
those pieces of paper home, put them on the side and stare at them
occasionally, going through what I might say during the phone call,
wondering if I will remain composed, embarrassed that I have to seek
their help and concerned that others would benefit more from their
assistance than me. Over time I consign those contact details to a pile
out of the way until they eventually end up in the recycle bin. Even to
me it seems an idiotic situation for someone who once managed a team of
30+ people. And then there is the flipside, when I am angry, which seems
to be just about every day now and a very good reason why I do my utmost
to avoid people. I try my best to be polite when I venture out once a
fortnight to shop, swapping platitudes with those I engage with, however
I am painfully aware that I have a short fuse which can and has resulted
in angry expletive laden sprays, including at friends recently. I am
also aware that I do misinterpreting things, reacting without thinking
and the most frustrating of all, saying things without realising, only
to review later and wonder why I said what I did. I even start sentences
and don’t finish them or fail to provide context until I see confusion
on the other persons face, prompting me to consider what I have said and
attempt to correct or add the necessary context. I have spent many days
writing whatever this is, and I am not even sure why I am doing it. I
have often written letters to the likes of the ABC to air my views on
various topics that frustrate the hell out of me but have never finished
or posted them. I struggle nowadays to find the words and when I do
throw words on paper, I often get so frustrated that I can feel my blood
pressure go up or my jaw stiffening, whilst at other times a wave of
tiredness descends. I know that tiredness worsens my dyslexia and trying
to compensate for dyslexia requires additional brain processing energy,
so it’s a double edge sword. When I was younger, I had the time and good
friends to help me find my way out of depression but as I get older, I
find I no longer have the resilience or energy. I’m not liking old age
and it’s not liking me much either. I regularly experience physical pain
and discomfort and no longer know which is worse, that or the mental
pain. The pragmatist in me concludes that I have nothing left in the
preverbal tank, nothing left to offer and nothing to look forward to.
This is not what I consider to be life, but more a case of simply
existing. Yes someone could throw me in hospital, talk with me for
hours, which they have done already or pump me full of medication (done
that too) but at the end of the day, the issues that have influenced my
life over the past few years will remain unresolved. Perhaps something
in this diatribe will help someone better understand what depression can
be like for those who live with it.
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