Cause and Effect
So, after my post a few days ago – 'A year ago today...' it's no wonder I ended up on Prozac (or Fluoxetine as I'm prescribed to save the NHS money), is it? Oh, if only it were that simple. In fact, I thought I'd got that pretty well sorted in my head and, after some rather good counselling sessions, I confirmed that.
Hmm, I'm British (well, decidedly English to narrow it down further) and male. Two things that would normally encourage me to say 'poppycock' to the whole counselling, depression, talking about things arena. Perhaps not 'poppycock' exactly, but for the time being this blog can remain family-friendly so stronger words are not necessary. However, if you've never suffered or have never been close to someone suffering depression, then it's a very hard illness to understand. Having lived it myself, I have an altogether very different opinion of counselling and medication.
Anyway, that's another tangent to explore another day. Back on track, please.
The last couple of years have been somewhat exceptional and I guess it was just a matter of time before I had some sort of breakdown. In January 2003 my mother died and I feel that as she lay in her hospital bed becoming weaker, I became stronger. When she passed away I inherited her strength and determination and it was time for me to take some control of my life. Her death was not the cause of my depression, it was the catalyst for me to start putting right the things that were wrong in my life.
I met my ex-wife in 1990 and started work at my current employer in 1992. For over a decade I drifted, letting decisions be made for me and taking the path of least resistance. I was happy with each decision at the time but when my mother died I was forced to take stock. I realised that the way I behaved, including a series of flirtations and an affair, was not indicative of a happy marriage. I loved my children but my feelings for my wife were fading and so, in 2004, she became my ex-wife.
The positive side to 2004 was finding a new love. My girlfriend, partner, soon-to-be-wife, H. More on her another time but this time this is a love built on honesty and trust. She knows my history and my habits. I am honest with her just as, for the first time in my life, I started being honest with myself.
Just as my personal life had drifted, so had my career. I have always loved working for the company I do and have had great success there. A series of promotions, not so much applied for as directed into, reflected that. While I was working through the divorce I was promoted again, into a management position, with a large team supporting an unpopular and troublesome application.
The ups and downs of my personal life masked what was going on at work. When my Decree Absolute came through, and life started to settle, I realised that I was deeply unhappy in this new role. Despite feedback which proved otherwise, I felt I was failing. I enjoyed managing the team but did not enjoy the things I had to do as a manager. We have an appraisal scheme at this company that fundamentally goes against my personal values. How could I carry out this scheme with my team?
My work days became worse and worse. I was finding it harder to convince myself that I could snap out of what I was feeling. Having been in the same company for nearly 13 years I had little on my CV to suggest I could work anywhere else and with a large new mortgage and a (very) generous divorce settlement to pay, I felt trapped. If I couldn't give up my job but couldn't carry on with it, I started to think the only way out was suicide.
On November 30th 2004 I had my 'breakdown'. H found me hiding in a quiet corner at work, unable to return to my desk for fear of another telephone call or email request. She convinced me to talk to my manager, who told me to go home early and agreed I could work at home the next day. As H drove us home I sat in silence. At home, I went upstairs to change out of my work clothes and collapsed in tears, realising that for the previous 2 hours all I had thought of were different ways to kill myself.
Slowly I found the words to explain to H what I was thinking. It was my first step to recovery, admitting that I couldn't 'snap out of it' and telling someone else. My second step was H taking me to see the doctor the next day.
On December 1st I was diagnosed as suffering depression. I was signed-off work with 'stress' and started taking 20mg of Fluoxetine each day. I was starting my journey.
Hmm, I'm British (well, decidedly English to narrow it down further) and male. Two things that would normally encourage me to say 'poppycock' to the whole counselling, depression, talking about things arena. Perhaps not 'poppycock' exactly, but for the time being this blog can remain family-friendly so stronger words are not necessary. However, if you've never suffered or have never been close to someone suffering depression, then it's a very hard illness to understand. Having lived it myself, I have an altogether very different opinion of counselling and medication.
Anyway, that's another tangent to explore another day. Back on track, please.
The last couple of years have been somewhat exceptional and I guess it was just a matter of time before I had some sort of breakdown. In January 2003 my mother died and I feel that as she lay in her hospital bed becoming weaker, I became stronger. When she passed away I inherited her strength and determination and it was time for me to take some control of my life. Her death was not the cause of my depression, it was the catalyst for me to start putting right the things that were wrong in my life.
I met my ex-wife in 1990 and started work at my current employer in 1992. For over a decade I drifted, letting decisions be made for me and taking the path of least resistance. I was happy with each decision at the time but when my mother died I was forced to take stock. I realised that the way I behaved, including a series of flirtations and an affair, was not indicative of a happy marriage. I loved my children but my feelings for my wife were fading and so, in 2004, she became my ex-wife.
The positive side to 2004 was finding a new love. My girlfriend, partner, soon-to-be-wife, H. More on her another time but this time this is a love built on honesty and trust. She knows my history and my habits. I am honest with her just as, for the first time in my life, I started being honest with myself.
Just as my personal life had drifted, so had my career. I have always loved working for the company I do and have had great success there. A series of promotions, not so much applied for as directed into, reflected that. While I was working through the divorce I was promoted again, into a management position, with a large team supporting an unpopular and troublesome application.
The ups and downs of my personal life masked what was going on at work. When my Decree Absolute came through, and life started to settle, I realised that I was deeply unhappy in this new role. Despite feedback which proved otherwise, I felt I was failing. I enjoyed managing the team but did not enjoy the things I had to do as a manager. We have an appraisal scheme at this company that fundamentally goes against my personal values. How could I carry out this scheme with my team?
My work days became worse and worse. I was finding it harder to convince myself that I could snap out of what I was feeling. Having been in the same company for nearly 13 years I had little on my CV to suggest I could work anywhere else and with a large new mortgage and a (very) generous divorce settlement to pay, I felt trapped. If I couldn't give up my job but couldn't carry on with it, I started to think the only way out was suicide.
On November 30th 2004 I had my 'breakdown'. H found me hiding in a quiet corner at work, unable to return to my desk for fear of another telephone call or email request. She convinced me to talk to my manager, who told me to go home early and agreed I could work at home the next day. As H drove us home I sat in silence. At home, I went upstairs to change out of my work clothes and collapsed in tears, realising that for the previous 2 hours all I had thought of were different ways to kill myself.
Slowly I found the words to explain to H what I was thinking. It was my first step to recovery, admitting that I couldn't 'snap out of it' and telling someone else. My second step was H taking me to see the doctor the next day.
On December 1st I was diagnosed as suffering depression. I was signed-off work with 'stress' and started taking 20mg of Fluoxetine each day. I was starting my journey.
posted by Anonymous at 08:40
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