What a week . . . (job, depression, grief)
Wednesday at 8:30am everybody at Citibank was sent the same e-mail from our craptacular new CEO saying he is eliminating 11,000 jobs across the company by the end of the year. Nobody but people in high levels of management knew this was coming, so it was a blow to us all.
That, on top of my already heightened depression, made me suicidal. I kept having to leave my desk to go cry. I had a plan. For the first time ever I really wanted to be dead, not sick and languishing in a hospital being taken care of as I occasionally wish.
Dead.
It was a scary place to be.
I went to the local behavioral health center and talked to the assessment nurse. She was ready to admit me inpatient after about an hour of talking with her. Marne said "Absolutely not" while my Facebook friends who got the questionable privilege of getting a play-by-play account of my day said I should go in if they wanted to admit me. I was leaning towards going in, but in the end we held off until I could talk to my therapist Thursday morning. My poor manager was kept abreast of this through a couple of crazy voice messages.
Thursday came and I decided to go to work after my appointment, and if I couldn't handle it I would go be admitted. I'm glad I went to work. My mood was so much better. It was as if I hit bottom Wednesday and then bounced up to a better mood than I've been in a while. I even worked extra Thursday and Friday to completely make up the time I missed on Wednesday. It was easy.
If only every day was like Thursday and Friday. As the weekend goes on my grip on that good mood remains tenuous at best. I feel so unsteady, like the faintest whiff of stress will cause this carefully crafted good mood to topple into depression again. This is so hard.
The overwhelmed, suicidal thoughts are trying to creep back in, but I am fighting it off. I'm doing several months' worth of laundry today. God, I really appreciate work for the distraction it offers.
Oh, after all that my job isn't one of those being eliminated. Thank god!!
That's the update on me.
That, on top of my already heightened depression, made me suicidal. I kept having to leave my desk to go cry. I had a plan. For the first time ever I really wanted to be dead, not sick and languishing in a hospital being taken care of as I occasionally wish.
Dead.
It was a scary place to be.
I went to the local behavioral health center and talked to the assessment nurse. She was ready to admit me inpatient after about an hour of talking with her. Marne said "Absolutely not" while my Facebook friends who got the questionable privilege of getting a play-by-play account of my day said I should go in if they wanted to admit me. I was leaning towards going in, but in the end we held off until I could talk to my therapist Thursday morning. My poor manager was kept abreast of this through a couple of crazy voice messages.
Thursday came and I decided to go to work after my appointment, and if I couldn't handle it I would go be admitted. I'm glad I went to work. My mood was so much better. It was as if I hit bottom Wednesday and then bounced up to a better mood than I've been in a while. I even worked extra Thursday and Friday to completely make up the time I missed on Wednesday. It was easy.
If only every day was like Thursday and Friday. As the weekend goes on my grip on that good mood remains tenuous at best. I feel so unsteady, like the faintest whiff of stress will cause this carefully crafted good mood to topple into depression again. This is so hard.
The overwhelmed, suicidal thoughts are trying to creep back in, but I am fighting it off. I'm doing several months' worth of laundry today. God, I really appreciate work for the distraction it offers.
Oh, after all that my job isn't one of those being eliminated. Thank god!!
That's the update on me.