Why I Don't Talk About My Mental Health at Work

So I've had a rough week. It's interesting seeing as I was on 'vacation' from Thursday at 5:00 pm last week to Tuesday at 9:00 am this week. I really need to know better than to think that a vacation at home when there are 12 people in my parents three bedroom home would do me any good. Let alone having to sleep in a recliner, my car, or the floor which was just a piece of the iceberg. As a 'fun' thing the paraprofessional appreciation banquet committee decided that the entire professional staff would perform a dance for the paraprofessional staff members. I cringed. I do not perform. I do not dance. However the tone from the leadership team regarding this was that it's mandatory; everyone has to participate. I tried putting every negative thought that was running through my head out of my mind. I decided that it was not going to be a big deal. I could do it. I would be fine.

I accepted the calendar invite for the practice. I was on board. I was going to do this. Then there was an update sent out. They had videoed the dance we were supposed to learn and perform in front of the staff. I watched both videos. During the first I was still trying to be optimistic. I told myself that there were a lot of staff members and that I would be fine. After the second video finished I was halfway into a panic attack. I was sweating, my heart racing, and my hands trembled. I can't do this. I knew it would be difficult for me, as this is not something I am comfortable with doing at all. Even when it was first mentioned I had trouble keeping my composure. So, before I had left for my aforementioned vacation I had sent an e-mail expressing some concerns with the upcoming paraprofessional appreciation banquet.

I knew it would not be well received. I knew stating that I could not participate because of anxiety would not go over well. However, I was not expecting the response that I got.

Now, don't get me wrong this seems to be a anomaly, but it did in fact still happen. I've taken a day to decompress and I'm still hurt and confused by it. As an educational moment I was told that the act of participating in the performance teaches me humility. Yes, I admit that I do not exactly understand the correlation. I asked to be excused because I knew that if I got up on stage and had to perform I would go into a full blown panic attack. I have not had one since I was in High School, but I have also not felt this way about a situation in a long time either. I might be wrong. I'm okay with that. You reading this may think I am being over-dramatic. I'm okay with that. I'm okay because this is what I have dealt with for years - being misunderstood by others. I have consistently been judged for things that I can not necessarily control. I know some triggers and I know ways to handle myself. I don't know everything though.

Part of the response I also got was that this is what Student Affairs is - we're the fun outgoing performers and it really grinds my gears. No. Not all of us are. Nor should we be pressured of forced to be. I am tired of being told how I am supposed to be and how I should be acting. I am my own person. I do my job. I also think I do it fairly well. I do not need to be on stage dancing in front of over 250 people to show humility. I am not superwoman - although sometimes I feel like I am because of all the stuff I actually do accomplish. I was asking to be excused because I have anxiety - something that I had not disclosed before. I was brave in sharing that as it was not easy for me to do so. I didn't need a warm fuzzy response; as I knew I would not get one, but I did need support.

I left the conversation feeling shamed and misunderstood. Yes, people can throw around words like anxiety and it no mean anything to them, but this is real for me. This just confirmed my fears. I can not be brave. I can not share. This is just one more time that without so many words I've been told and/or treated like there is something wrong with me. (Granted, I know there is, but it does not make me any less of a person.) Stop telling me I'm not good enough. Stop telling me that being different is bad. Stop telling me that because I am different I do not matter. You may not use words, but your tone, actions, and how you reply are all saying it to me. This is why I struggle. This is why I question my choices to stay. This is why I want to leave Student Affairs; we're a bunch of hypocrites who turn on anyone who is different and unlike us. SHAME ON US!

I'm doing the best that I can. I'm sorry that's not good enough for others.

Response to "On Alcohol and Student Affairs"

I spent my evening at two different programs that were going on in my residential area, but I was just spending some time unwinding by scrolling through Facebook afterward. Something jumped out at me as I went down the page. Two colleagues of mine had shared the same article. Of course this happens frequently, but it wasn't the usual new article. They were sharing a blog post written by another colleague, Becki Elkins entitled "On Alcohol and Student Affairs". It's a great personal story, but raised a lot of really good questions/points. I don't want to make this about my story, as I think Becki needs to be recognized for her strength in sharing this with us, but my response is a bit more personal.

See, I love this. I love what Becki wrote. I love what Becki shared. I don't think I love it for the same reasons that most others do, and that's fine. I love this because it brings light to an issue we seem to be blind to. Do we really need to host socials at bars? Do we need to have every event circulated around an alcoholic beverage? Why is there such a need to 'unwind' with a glass of wine or beer? Sure if you truly think that helps or works for you - more power to you. I just don't think it's needed. I haven't been to a national conference, but I don't believe my understanding of the social aspects is entirely wrong. There is a lot of drinking that happens there. Of course, there are a lot of people and most know their limits, but there are some who are overdue for a vacation and get carried away. How does this help us when bartenders, waiters, hotel staff witness this side? Yes, I know it's not everyone but it is still happening in our field. What do we do? How can we help those who need it?

I was at a bad place in my life early on in my career and used alcohol as a crutch. Taking a depressant while depressed doesn't do any good. I knew that from all of my training and educational courses, but I didn't care. I knew enough to drink at the right times and in the right locations, but I did indulge more than I should've. That lasted for at least a year. Then one day I just stopped. I decided that I was worth more than I was giving myself credit for and wanted to be able to do better for myself. I haven't had a drink since October 31, 2010. Sometimes I do want a drink. I know I could handle it. I wouldn't buy any to take home, but out to dinner or at a bar I could have a drink. I could do it. I would be okay.

Just as I thought about trying a drink again I was diagnosed with liver disease. I'm never allowed to drink again. Do you know how hard it is to get to know new people or make plans at a new job when everyone else wants to go to a bar? Sure, I can go. Sure I can drink something else. However, do you know how many times people ask me why I'm not drinking? Why does it matter? Why do we care so much about another's choice or reason? It's so much easier for me to just stay by myself than connect with others because I don't want to have to explain my story. I don't want to have to continue to let everyone know. They don't need to know. They don't need to ask, but they do. They always do.

So I ask:

• How do we support the people who fight these battles?
• What can we do to help?

I'd like to send a personal message to Becki - no, you are not alone. I may not need to attend meetings and I may not struggle with this addiction, but you are not alone. If we are ever at the same conference I will go to a meeting with you. I hate mornings, but I will be there with you because we all need more people working with us. 

Authenticity.

My Black Dog is a Monster

[Prologue: This has been a brewing post for about a week. I wasn't sure where it was going. I've deleted it and rewrote it a few times. I no longer care if it's worthwhile or not. It doesn't have to be perfect, but it needs to be shared.]

There's a YoutTube video that I watched months ago. I enjoyed it. It was a cartoon video explanation of what living with Depression is like. However, now I have an issue with the video. [You can view it below if you haven't seen it before.]


My issue: I don't have a black dog. I don't have a cute cuddly animal that I want to spend time with. I don't have something that I love. I don't have something that makes me happy. I don't have a black dog. I have watched the video before. Up until recently I enjoyed it. I have started to think about it more because I don't have a black dog. Why? Dogs are not something that I find terrifying, that I don't like, or that I don't want. I like dogs and this analogy just doesn't work for me anymore. The ending makes it sound so simple to train the black dog, but I don't have a black dog. If I had anything resembling a black dog it would be this:

Source: http://www.thedailytouch.com/georgina/the-science-of-my-life-harry-potter/

And even this is a little stretched because his name is Fluffy, he's from a children's story book, and he's easily subdued. However, most of the time if I had a black dog, he'd look just like this - snarling and ready to strike. I have a monster. A monster that isn't afraid of garlic, salt, the sun, or a full moon. A monster that creeps up without warning. A monster that gives no mercy. A monster that is so large it consumes me whole. I don't always know where the monster comes from or when it'll show it's head but he's there - always.

My monster can hit me like a ton of bricks - out of nowhere. I can be functioning perfectly fine on my own and then one day I just won't want to get out of bed. It's happened recently. He's back and he's not exactly cooperating, although he never really does because he answers to no one. For the past few weeks I have struggled. I have had mornings when I just didn't care about anything. I have had days where I don't want to get out of bed, and I surely don't want to have to leave my apartment or interact with other people. These thoughts are ones that have become more frequent. I have not succumbed to them entirely though; before I would have. I have pushed through. I have gotten out of bed. I have gotten dressed. I have gone to work. However, I don't know if that's the best option either. Do I force myself up and out and risk being irritable, short-tempered, and perhaps even down right mean to others? Or do I let it consume me for however long it'll stick around this time? There's no right answer because there are too many variables to account for. I can't take days off. I don't have the time. Instead I'm here. Fragile and withdrawn. Don't get too close, I don't know how I'll react. My emotions are on a high speed roller coaster and I'm not at the control panel.I don't know when they'll creep up a steep slope, crash down, or throw me for a complete loop.

I'm not asking for your pity. I'm not asking for your advice. I'm surely not asking for you to care. I'm just letting you know that just because we've stopped talking about it doesn't mean that I've stopped dealing with it.

Authenticity.