I usually think of myself as a resilient person. Sometimes though, I think resilience is about admitting defeat and asking for help. This is where I am at at the moment.
The problem? Working in a job where I didn’t feel I was making a difference to people’s lives, and knowing that I need that. Being a manager without staff, not feeling that I was doing a good job and losing confidence. Feeling that my boss didn’t have any time for me. Job application after job application, interview after interview, each one requiring many hours of preparation. Disappointment following emotional and financial stress after three unsuccessful IVF embryo implants (no – the third one didn’t work either). Broken sleep for three years, compounding the sometimes relentlessly challenging demands of two very active little girls.
One or two of these stress factors would have been manageable, but over a period of more than six months they accumulated and wore me down. I found that there wasn’t much that I enjoyed anymore, and preferred not to see my friends. My motivation and concentration at work diminished so that I became like a marathon runner who was only able to shuffle. I was easily irritated by the girls, and often didn’t have the energy to discipline them effectively or nurture them emotionally, which made me feel worse, especially since the residential Family Centre had highlighted the importance of emotional support for healthy toddler development. And there was setback after setback: even though I didn’t have high hopes about the IVF, it was disappointing after each failed attempt. I was close to getting one or two jobs that I really wanted but missed out. Some nights I would come home, get through the evening routine with the girls and after they had gone to bed I would go to bed too, and have a cry in the dark. I ate because I knew I should, especially if I could be in the early stages of pregnancy, but I had no appetite.
For the first time in my life I thought I would see a counsellor: the counsellor you can see as part of the IVF program I was doing. After having burst into tears at my initial meeting with her, she listened and sympathised and, while being impressed that I had tried to take charge of my situation by applying for jobs, she suggested that I was burnt out and needed to have a break. Perhaps I could go to the beach by myself for a few days, or to a retreat? Money being tight, I came up with the perfect solution that was cheap as well: I would ask if I could stay with mum and dad.
It had been years since I had stayed in the house I grew up in, situated opposite the bush and surrounded by peaceful, private gardens. Mum cooked meals for me and I had two lazy days and nights, not being woken up during the night or at six o’clock in the morning by rambunctious girls (Steve kindly gave me this time off). I slept in, read books, had a bath, and walked in the bush. It was just before the last IVF transfer and I had two weeks off work, then a third, to recharge and de-stress. But even this wasn’t enough, and soon after being back at work again the feelings returned of being not in control, trapped, and overwhelmed, along with the low self esteem and persistent unhappiness. I went back to the IVF counsellor and we talked about more positive strategies I could employ. But I got to the point where I actually couldn’t function anymore at work.
After bursting into tears in a one-on-one session with my Executive Coach (one of many occasions in which I have this year – such as with my IVF doctor after she asked where I worked), my coach suggested that I go to a doctor because I may have depression. She was right, and so that I could be there for the girls emotionally and make a decision about future IVF treatment from a healthy place, I decided to do something about it.
Several sessions with my GP and psychologist, and many more tears and tissues later, there seems to be the prospect of longer periods of feeling better. Both the GP and psychologist have been great, particularly the psychologist, and Steve is always supportive. The time off work – another three weeks so far – has been invaluable for removing myself from a situation that had become untenable, and rejuvenating myself by rediscovering the things I love, including the girls. I have read books, seen movies, started my tax return, done some spring cleaning, ridden my bike along cycle paths lined with bare trees and spring blossoms, caught up with some friends and my brothers, and had lunches with just Steve and me. But the greatest single positive impact on my feelings has probably been my new boss.
I had been apprehensive about telling her the nature of my illness and had dreaded having to talk to her about it after my initial email (‘I wish I could hold your hand while I talk to her’, I said to Steve over lunch when I was due to call her. I meant it literally). I had actually had a run in with her only two weeks before, in which I had advised her of a risk I perceived with our work-related negotiations and she had taken this as a personal criticism and had been quite angry about it. We had both decided to ‘clear the air’ and discussed it again the next day, after she had told me that she hadn’t slept at all that night because of my implied slur on her professional integrity. We had both apologised for any misunderstandings. It had actually been an empowering and positive experience in the end, but I didn’t feel at all comfortable discussing how I had been feeling with a very senior staff member who is known to be forthright, rather brash and sometimes intimidating. But in this respect I had completely misjudged her.
Following on from a very professional, courteous and solicitous email, she asked how I was (‘OK thanks, how are you?’), then a few moments later asked how I was feeling. When I said ‘not great’ she said quietly ‘No.’ She talked about restructuring the work, and offered me a different role. I explained that the work area was part of the problem, and that I hadn’t chosen the job but had been put there on my return from maternity leave. When I said that I had also felt that I hadn’t done a very good job she said that I had done a fabulous job (I was grateful for her gross exaggeration) and that having now observed what we were all doing for a couple of weeks, she thought that it wasn’t reasonable for me to have been asked to do the work I had because it should be done by a specialised lawyer. She indicated that she would tell her own boss that people shouldn’t be demoralised by being asked to do work that should be done by lawyers. She and I both have law degrees and she is aware of mine, but neither of us have worked in the field recently and I am certainly not suited to technical legal work.
She talked of me being ‘restored to health’ several times, suggested I consider not returning to my job for my own wellbeing, asked how she could help me find another job, and when I mentioned that my two weeks holiday away would be beneficial, she suggested that I consider converting this recreational leave to sick leave (of which I, like most people, have far more, and this would free up my recreational leave for when I am feeling better). My boss wasn’t offering me pity but she was giving me professional support, which was exactly what I needed.
After asking me to pick up the phone if I needed anything else from her, and to let her know how my feedback went from the latest job I had applied for, we hung up.
Those ten minutes lifted me more than hours of any other sort of help. And I think that our honesty with each other two weeks ago had laid the foundations of a trusting professional relationship which has benefited me already.
I’ll continue to apply for jobs with my boss supporting me, and she will advocate a transfer using my medical certificate which says that it would benefit my health and wellbeing for me to be moved. I’m hopeful that things will turn around before too long.
If you’d like to find out more about depression, anxiety and other mental illnesses, have a look at www.beyondblue.org.au.
If you’d like to help me or someone else with depression but don’t know what to do, ask them how you can help.
Chances are, the act of asking is helpful to them already.
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