WARNING: Depressed rambling below! I found this a few weeks ago and have debated over and over on whether to publish this post. I decided to do it, on the off chance that someone reading it, somewhere out there, may see a glimmer of light deep in the dark tunnel of life.
The paragraphs below in black type were written by me almost a year ago and they now seem written by an alien hand. It's amazing how much your life can change in what is really a short time. It shocks and saddens me that I ever felt that way, or at least had convinced myself that I did. Looking back through clearer eyes I believe it wasn't that I didn't feel emotions, I was just refusing to acknowledge them. I wasn't really out of step or separate from the world around me, I was hiding from it. I had built a wall of protection so strong that, over time, even I couldn't breach it. These words weren't written at the height of my depression. It wasn't until New Year's Eve that I accepted what the problem really was and took action, calling a mental health hotline for veterans. A kind staffer talked to me, listened to me and then set me up with the VA mental health clinic. I started taking an antidepressant which luckily worked well for me and more importantly, I began going to therapy sessions and just talking freely with someone who didn't judge, someone I didn't have to "edit" my conversation with. Plain and simple, what I had needed the most was someone I could truly talk to about anything. I felt that I couldn't do that with family because I didn't want to worry them. Friends weren't an option either, most people do not want to hear the sad stories a nurse lives through on an almost daily basis. Note: this is not to say that just seeing a therapist and taking a pill will make your life all better. I am not naive enough to believe my depression compares with someone else's. I know that a major component of mine was job burnout and the stress of trying to keep up the fake persona I had created. Some of us are just locked inside prisons of our own making and have to be helped to see that. I have now reached a point where I am no longer taking the meds or going to counseling but I am sharing much more with others and it helps a lot!
Today, I am happy and contented with my life overall. Sure there will always be things, for any of us, that we would like to change. Less work and more time to do the fun stuff is always up there on the list. I still get stressed with family and work but am handling it. I am once again open to and truly feel the loss when one of my residents passes; this is a bit of a double-edged sword, but I can also empathize with the family left behind. There are still days when I would like to throttle a co-worker or two but I work hard to not blow my stack and let it make me look ineffective and become unprofessional. It took time and effort and will be an on-going process for the rest of my life and some days it works out better than others. Here's to the good days!
The paragraphs below in black type were written by me almost a year ago and they now seem written by an alien hand. It's amazing how much your life can change in what is really a short time. It shocks and saddens me that I ever felt that way, or at least had convinced myself that I did. Looking back through clearer eyes I believe it wasn't that I didn't feel emotions, I was just refusing to acknowledge them. I wasn't really out of step or separate from the world around me, I was hiding from it. I had built a wall of protection so strong that, over time, even I couldn't breach it. These words weren't written at the height of my depression. It wasn't until New Year's Eve that I accepted what the problem really was and took action, calling a mental health hotline for veterans. A kind staffer talked to me, listened to me and then set me up with the VA mental health clinic. I started taking an antidepressant which luckily worked well for me and more importantly, I began going to therapy sessions and just talking freely with someone who didn't judge, someone I didn't have to "edit" my conversation with. Plain and simple, what I had needed the most was someone I could truly talk to about anything. I felt that I couldn't do that with family because I didn't want to worry them. Friends weren't an option either, most people do not want to hear the sad stories a nurse lives through on an almost daily basis. Note: this is not to say that just seeing a therapist and taking a pill will make your life all better. I am not naive enough to believe my depression compares with someone else's. I know that a major component of mine was job burnout and the stress of trying to keep up the fake persona I had created. Some of us are just locked inside prisons of our own making and have to be helped to see that. I have now reached a point where I am no longer taking the meds or going to counseling but I am sharing much more with others and it helps a lot!
Today, I am happy and contented with my life overall. Sure there will always be things, for any of us, that we would like to change. Less work and more time to do the fun stuff is always up there on the list. I still get stressed with family and work but am handling it. I am once again open to and truly feel the loss when one of my residents passes; this is a bit of a double-edged sword, but I can also empathize with the family left behind. There are still days when I would like to throttle a co-worker or two but I work hard to not blow my stack and let it make me look ineffective and become unprofessional. It took time and effort and will be an on-going process for the rest of my life and some days it works out better than others. Here's to the good days!
I just realized I have spent the last 5 hours reading social
media and watching YouTube videos instead of taking the nap I really wanted to
take so I could get out of the house and enjoy the day. I haven’t eaten, only
had 1 cup of coffee, all because I was relinquishing my life in favor of
reading about the lives of other people. Ironically, one of the blogs I read quoted
Steve Jobs, "Your time is limited, so don't waste it
living someone else's life.”
Honestly, if this were a one-time thing I wouldn't be
bothered too much. But, truth be told it is an almost daily occurrence. I pick
things to watch or read that most would find sad, anger inducing, something
with strong emotions. All the while I sit here wondering why I don’t truly feel
anything but only appreciate them on an intellectual level.
I have watched life come to an end for many
people over the last 2 decades while working as a nurse. I don’t cry for those
long-suffering and terminally ill in nursing homes or the young and vital
suddenly facing mortality. I can acknowledge for some the end is a blessing and
for others it seems a shame and a waste and I know their families will be
devastated, but that is as far as it goes. Often, I find myself feeling gratitude
that the pain of the departed has ended but can't relate to the pain of those
left behind.
I suppose it’s not totally as bleak as I have written so
far. Maybe it is that the emotions I do feel don’t seem to fit with what
everyone else is feeling. I am somehow out of step so I don’t let anything come
through.
I used to feel everything so strongly it scared me at times.
Grief and anger so strong that I thought it might tear me in half. Ended
relationships, desperation to be back in one, even job challenges or changes
set me off. I would cry, mourn or beg,
whatever fit the situation. The pain I felt when physical harm came to one of
my daughters nearly killed me. Is it possible that I have cried too much, felt
too much, rendered myself too vulnerable in the past? I can’t even fathom the
thought of ever dating again much less being with someone. I watch my girls and
hope their lives are good for them, help where I can, but I keep to the
outside. Oh, I love them dearly and try to show them and tell them both constantly. The same goes
for my mom, despite her driving me nuts now and then. Actually, I think I make
myself nuts. I don’t like the reality that she is at an age and physical
condition where she could be gone soon and I let her little quirks place
distance between us rather than savoring every moment however many there might
be. I know how fleeting and unfair life can be. Have I just shut off everything
I can to avoid ever getting hurt again? If so, why don't I realize that in doing
so I may hurt myself even more by depriving myself of life’s joys? And most
importantly, how do I get the feeling back?
10/8/11
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