Week 1Week 1 started well. I was full of drive and energy, full of determination to use the opportunity of redundancy to enjoy life and progress my career. I gave my CV an overhaul, I browsed job sites, I thought about what I wanted to do, I applied for a couple of jobs, I went running. On Friday I received an invite to interview with a great company on the Monday.
I was excited and spent time preparing over the weekend, but we were up North visiting in laws so chances we limited. On Monday I went to the interview full of hope, but before the end I knew I had messed it up. A comment one of the interviewers said made me realise just how badly I sold myself.
The work I love to do is all about communicating with people, but I failed to communicate. I couldn’t recall the right examples, I kept repeating the same words, I went off topic. I wanted to kick myself.
I left the amazing building, the inspiring company, bought a cupcake from the Hummingbird Bakery next to the entrance and said goodbye to it all.
The next day I got the confirmation that I hadn’t gone through to the next round of interviews, but by then depression had kicked back in.
Tuesday I spent the morning in bed before managing to drag myself out of bed and clear up downstairs. This was not a sign of motivation, more repulsion over the state of the house. The cats had shown their displeasure over abandonment for the weekend (and being shut inside) by using a sofa as their litter tray. This was impressive given the sofa was piled high with boxes, papers and all manner of other rubbish. We had cleared it up Sunday night, but a smell lingered. The cats also have fleas again.
I tidied, vacuumed (after spending an hour fixing my Dyson), flea treated and Febreezed until I was choking, but the downstairs of my house was once again habitable. This didn’t shift the depression.
Wednesday I had a haircut and colour booked for first thing which got me out of the house. I hate the end haircut, but that’s another story.
My husband was out in the evening and I had people coming over to stuff goody bags for a charity event I was running on Saturday. This got me through the evening, but I was just ticking boxes, going through the motions. The curtain of depression had shut out any positive emotion.
Thursday I spent much of the day in bed again. Sometimes when I am unhappy the only place I want to be is in bed trying to sleep. In bed I can dream and in my dreams I can be whatever I want. I leave my reality behind and become beautiful, funny, thin, successful. A better me. I become good enough for those that want to be with me and for the life I wish I had.
|All at sea|
Friday and Saturday were spent in a whirlwind. Organising and running the charity event took over. A non-stop series of things to do that could not be delayed. On Saturday at the event people kept calling my name, asking my opinion, needing my help. I hadn’t realised just how much I had missed that since I finished work: leading people; having people respect my opinion; feeling I have value.
I felt alive again. I felt. That’s the big thing about depression, I spend a lot of the time numb. Yesterday and today I have felt free, happy, determined to succeed. I hope it continues.
I still have a deep sadness for what I have feel I have lost. All things end but when they do before you are ready, when there are still things you wanted to do, it hurts. I am grieving for what has ended and for what might have been. But the pain and the tears are good, because they are feelings and while I feel I am alive and I can use the pain to drive me on and succeed. I am scared for my future, but I wont get what I want by hiding in bed, by just dreaming.