Humiliation (the second wave) - losing control
After having mostly recovered from my first bout of depression I was again gaining in confidence in myself and felt that I had overcome most of the humiliation from my first depressive episode. I was still wary about who knew about my depression, because I still felt embarrassed about this information and was not confident that people would treat me fairly, but otherwise I thought I had recovered in that area. This, as it turned out, was only somewhat accurate. I had come to terms with the fact that a person who was depressed in the way that I had been was as incapable of living life productively because of their impaired mental capacities as an athlete would be incapable of competing with impaired physical abilities (eg. a broken leg or other injury). I no longer felt humiliated to be ill which was a relief. It was also fairly easy not to be when I was mostly recovered and had a rapidly progressing career. But as it turned out I had overestimated the extent of my recovery and I was soon facing a major depressive episode again. With little notice I was again stripped of my dignity and suffered awful humiliation from this malevolent and pernicious disease.
On the eve of my second episode of major depression, as on the eve of my first bout of depression, I was getting on top of my life and succeeding in the things I was putting my mind and effort to. I had recently continued my promotion through the company I was working for and now ran a workforce planning and reporting department of 10 people. My home life was going superbly as well as I had recently welcomed the birth of my firstborn daughter into the family.
Just before the depression hit me again I was due to take a couple of weeks leave at the beach with my newly extended family. I was feeling a bit run down at the time but I had been quite busy with work and the new baby that I thought it was nothing out of the ordinary. However, towards the end of the two weeks leave it became apparent that I wasn't being refreshed by the holiday and the first recognisable signs of depression became apparent to me.
On return to work I was determined not to succumb to depression in the way that I had the first time. It was too aware of the symptoms for it to sneak up on me and give me my illness by a thousand cuts. The way I fought to remain at work and involved in life I will tell at another time. Let me simply say that I was wiser for having had depression before and I fought it with every ounce of strength and guile I could possibly muster. Ultimately it was to no avail.
I had been back at work for a few weeks when I was no longer able do my job. During that time I quickly went to the doctors and returned to medication and kept fighting through the symptoms hoping to be stable enough to continue working. However, I was soon so severely debilitated by the disease that I could not even clear out my email inbox and assign routine tasks to my staff. I had no choice but to take time off. All this occured within a few weeks of returning to work. I again sought my doctor to consult on my prognosis. It was too difficult to tell what the likely outcome was to be so I felt I had to let my boss know of my situation and the prospect of having an extended period of illness. And this I did whilst on my first batch of leave. This just gutted me. I was as distraught from confronting the fact of my illness as I was with informing my boss.
In this early phase of my depression my whole world seemed to be on the brink of falling apart so I determined I would fight this situation to the best of my capacity - and so I did. It was not easy. The realisation that I was potentially not fit for work for the long term, the fact that I felt like I was letting down my boss who had put so much faith in me, the fact that I was unable to lead my team of workers through diffuclt phases of transition in my department all ensured that I began to feel like a failure. This was only compounded by me no longer being able to live up to the standards that I expected from my staff in that period. It was a greulling time healthwise, mentally, and emotionally and I was again placed in a vicious fight for the survival of my soul against depression.
After a few trials of work (interspersed with sick leave), and as symptoms worsened, it became apparent that I was not going to be able to return to work full time - but I would not accept this. Throughout this period everybody at work knew that I was ill. It was impossible to hide it. I came into work looking like a living corpse. As far as I was concerned I was going to work for as long as I was able to fight it out. In the end I was fighting an obviously insurmountable battle that through sheer force of will and habit I had not yet relinquished fighting. After about three months of fighting full time work (interspersed with sick leave) I was walking past a meeting room where a colleague of mine was just leaving. He immediately pulled me into the vacated room and told me to go home because it was not worth doing to myself or my family what my illness and work required and that the business would go on without me. Knowing he was right, and really just needing someone to say it was ok to be sick and not work, I took his advice for which I am extremely grateful (some time later I went and thanked this colleague and he told me that while we were talking in that room, apart from looking as green around the gills as could be, I had been leaning up against the wall on an angle so severe he thought I might topple over at anytime - I had absolutely no idea).
I called my boss immediately and informed her I was just far too sick to work. I remained composed on the phone but as soon as my call finished I broke down and cried. I was exhausted from the illness, I was exhausted from the battle, I was exhausted from the worry - I was simply done, I could not go on. My world was imploding in on me and there was nothing more I could do about it except to stand and watch one degradation after another.
During this phase of my health dilemmas my workplace was as accommodating as could be. For another three months they held my position open, reduced my role to half time, and worked on a return to work plan with me. As soon as I raised my hours and role towards full time work I was unable to cope (and I was not all that effective during my part time work either). Things eventually were brought to a head and I resigned without pressure from my workplace. This decision I took in the best interests of myself and my family but ultimately I think it was in the best interest of my workplace as well. They had offered to provide a comparable role on my return to full health but this was perhaps more legal obligation than than benefit for them. I ultimately knew that if my depression was to pass I would find some means to productively employ my talents.
On the eve of my second episode of major depression, as on the eve of my first bout of depression, I was getting on top of my life and succeeding in the things I was putting my mind and effort to. I had recently continued my promotion through the company I was working for and now ran a workforce planning and reporting department of 10 people. My home life was going superbly as well as I had recently welcomed the birth of my firstborn daughter into the family.
Just before the depression hit me again I was due to take a couple of weeks leave at the beach with my newly extended family. I was feeling a bit run down at the time but I had been quite busy with work and the new baby that I thought it was nothing out of the ordinary. However, towards the end of the two weeks leave it became apparent that I wasn't being refreshed by the holiday and the first recognisable signs of depression became apparent to me.
On return to work I was determined not to succumb to depression in the way that I had the first time. It was too aware of the symptoms for it to sneak up on me and give me my illness by a thousand cuts. The way I fought to remain at work and involved in life I will tell at another time. Let me simply say that I was wiser for having had depression before and I fought it with every ounce of strength and guile I could possibly muster. Ultimately it was to no avail.
I had been back at work for a few weeks when I was no longer able do my job. During that time I quickly went to the doctors and returned to medication and kept fighting through the symptoms hoping to be stable enough to continue working. However, I was soon so severely debilitated by the disease that I could not even clear out my email inbox and assign routine tasks to my staff. I had no choice but to take time off. All this occured within a few weeks of returning to work. I again sought my doctor to consult on my prognosis. It was too difficult to tell what the likely outcome was to be so I felt I had to let my boss know of my situation and the prospect of having an extended period of illness. And this I did whilst on my first batch of leave. This just gutted me. I was as distraught from confronting the fact of my illness as I was with informing my boss.
In this early phase of my depression my whole world seemed to be on the brink of falling apart so I determined I would fight this situation to the best of my capacity - and so I did. It was not easy. The realisation that I was potentially not fit for work for the long term, the fact that I felt like I was letting down my boss who had put so much faith in me, the fact that I was unable to lead my team of workers through diffuclt phases of transition in my department all ensured that I began to feel like a failure. This was only compounded by me no longer being able to live up to the standards that I expected from my staff in that period. It was a greulling time healthwise, mentally, and emotionally and I was again placed in a vicious fight for the survival of my soul against depression.
After a few trials of work (interspersed with sick leave), and as symptoms worsened, it became apparent that I was not going to be able to return to work full time - but I would not accept this. Throughout this period everybody at work knew that I was ill. It was impossible to hide it. I came into work looking like a living corpse. As far as I was concerned I was going to work for as long as I was able to fight it out. In the end I was fighting an obviously insurmountable battle that through sheer force of will and habit I had not yet relinquished fighting. After about three months of fighting full time work (interspersed with sick leave) I was walking past a meeting room where a colleague of mine was just leaving. He immediately pulled me into the vacated room and told me to go home because it was not worth doing to myself or my family what my illness and work required and that the business would go on without me. Knowing he was right, and really just needing someone to say it was ok to be sick and not work, I took his advice for which I am extremely grateful (some time later I went and thanked this colleague and he told me that while we were talking in that room, apart from looking as green around the gills as could be, I had been leaning up against the wall on an angle so severe he thought I might topple over at anytime - I had absolutely no idea).
I called my boss immediately and informed her I was just far too sick to work. I remained composed on the phone but as soon as my call finished I broke down and cried. I was exhausted from the illness, I was exhausted from the battle, I was exhausted from the worry - I was simply done, I could not go on. My world was imploding in on me and there was nothing more I could do about it except to stand and watch one degradation after another.
During this phase of my health dilemmas my workplace was as accommodating as could be. For another three months they held my position open, reduced my role to half time, and worked on a return to work plan with me. As soon as I raised my hours and role towards full time work I was unable to cope (and I was not all that effective during my part time work either). Things eventually were brought to a head and I resigned without pressure from my workplace. This decision I took in the best interests of myself and my family but ultimately I think it was in the best interest of my workplace as well. They had offered to provide a comparable role on my return to full health but this was perhaps more legal obligation than than benefit for them. I ultimately knew that if my depression was to pass I would find some means to productively employ my talents.
The humiliation I faced during my second episode of depression was more horrid than my first. The above catalogue of incidents is not the half of it but a small selection of the lowlights. The countless meetings with my boss and HR were just as awful. Each time it was a reminder to me that I was incapable of doing my job. I was being carried through one of the many company processes/policies to the letter and I just felt like a uselss passenger. There was meant to be some kind of dignity behind these procedures but I think in reality it is only in form because some things can never reach and deal with human frailty in a satisfactory way.
Apart from the humiliation of facing workplace processess designed to protect me, and an obvoius loss of capacity and prestige, I also had to face what was important to me personally. I had a reputation to lose, financial assets to lose, and a family dependant on me that I kept letting down. As these things were slipping ever further from my grasp there is no way I can properly describe how I felt. What I can say is that the whole of my being and psyche were impacted in an extraordinary way. I felt totally emasculated as a man and, as my health worsened, I felt on the verge of being totally dehumanised - and I think for a portion of time I was because I had lost total control of my life.
posted by Blackdog at 9:02 PM
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