This is a difficult subject for me to write about. There’s no way to express it with a positive spin. But, in the words of a well-respected organization: you’re only as sick as your secrets…and I’m done being sick.
In 2008, I left my 10-year career as Social Services Director in nursing homes to take on new challenges and responsibilities as a Field Supervisor for caregivers in the home care industry. This included a cut in pay, which I was willing to accept since I didn’t have direct experience in that position. Within a few months, I had established a good rapport with my clients and caregivers, learned the details of the industry, and instituted a two-day orientation training program for all new caregivers. My supervisor was pleased with the quality of my work and supported my approach to the duties of my job.
In my personal life, I had published a book of inspirational articles through blurb.com and had aspirations of becoming a life coach. I was finishing up my bachelors degree in Psychology and planned to go on to work on a masters degree in Art Therapy or Transformative Art. I was certain that the healing power of art was the channel for my energy. I felt connected to a power greater than myself, and that power was Unconditional Love.
When I returned from my Christmas holidays, the tone of my workplace had changed. The owner of the company confronted me about a situation that had occurred in my absence. I was blindsided by her rage, but redoubled my efforts to address the issue. My supervisor called the action “a witch-hunt” and apologized for the actions of the owner.
During the subsequent weeks, the owner continually sought me out to question my ability to perform the duties of the job, citing that other employees had complained. I was informed that several of the employees at the agency’s office routinely engaged in rumor-mongering and back-stabbing. I ignored the warning, believing that if I’m doing my best, I have nothing to fear.
The stress I experienced on the job escalated. I was so distracted by the pressure I was under, I had 3 automobile accidents within 2 months (never had any before this). I became anorexic, losing 40 lbs. in 4 months. I attempted to get my stress level under control by journaling, by using affirmations, and by talking with my husband about what was going on at work. By the fifth month of this, May 2009, I decided to look for another job– it was clear to me that, after a year of employment with the agency, I was not the person that the owner wanted for this position.
I sent out resumes, went on interviews (never on company time), and continued to do the best job I could for the agency… but this was during the job slump. No one would hire me. And the pressure continued. I felt trapped.
A month later, my supervisor, the only person I felt I could trust, had a stroke and left the agency. Now, I felt trapped and isolated. I was to report directly to the owner.
The following months are a blur to me now. I know I spent my days focusing on every detail the owner pointed out as part of my job (which was what I had been doing all along) , and most of my time after work crying and complaining to my husband that I couldn’t stand it anymore. I was doing the best I could to find another job, but there were no offers. I was doing my best to fulfill the owner’s expectations of my performance, but those expectations seemed to shift from day to day. She questioned my sanity, asked me if I was on drugs (checked my arms for track marks), and accused me of incompetence.
By September 2009, I was so desperate I asked my husband if he’d be okay with me just quitting, even though I did not have another job to go to. He didn’t seem comfortable with the idea of being the sole wage-earner, so I agreed to press on.
Three weeks later, I was in the company car, driving to an assignment, when I experienced the overwhelming urge to drive the car off a bridge. I nearly blacked out. I called the owner and told her I wasn’t well and that I was going home. I stayed in bed for the rest of the day and made an appointment with my doctor for the next morning.
When I returned to work the next Monday, I was called to the owner’s office. Sitting there beside the owner was the HR person. The owner questioned me about my work, about my illness, and about my unsuitability for the job. I told her that I was severely depressed due to the stresses at work and that it was clear to me that I wasn’t the person she wanted for that job. She sent me back to my office while she “decided what to do with me.”
An hour later, she presented me with papers she wanted me to sign and an offer for two-weeks severance pay. She said, “I advise you to sign.” I was escorted from the building. The papers, had I signed, would have constituted a Voluntary Quit with a Hold-Harmless clause. I tore them up and prepared to file an unemployment claim.
Unemployment denied my claim on the grounds that I was unqualified for the job I had done for a year and a half. I missed my appeal appointment because I was still severely depressed and in shock.
Since that time in October 2009, I did some temporary work for the census, and took a job in a retirement community as an activity planner, but, after 3 months, could not cope with the pressures of a “normal” job. I had recurring nightmares of there being traps everywhere, and believed that my fellow employees were looking for ways to sabotage me. I’ve had recurring bouts of depression, including being unable to sleep more than 4 hours a night. I quit drinking in December, hoping it would help alleviate my distress. My mental and emotional status deteriorated. I felt everyone was judging me. I attempted suicide in February, desperate to end my suffering. I was admitted to a psychiatric ward on a 5150– danger to self or others. They prescribed medication and told me that I was psychotically depressed. They disregarded my explanations that I wasn’t like this before I worked for the agency. They said it was my lifestyle that made me this way. No job. No insurance. No hope.
My husband and I moved to a smaller place last Spring. We’ve cut our expenses to the bare bones. I’ve given up looking for regular work, though I’ve got a couple of part-time things to supplement our income. I’m no longer in the depths of depression, but still feel isolated from the rest of the world. I’ve also given up on feeling the joy for life that I had known before. Something in me is broken, though I’m no longer a danger to myself or others. Every day, the self-critical voices accuse me of saying or doing something to offend or hurt others, so I avoid much social interaction. Every day, I look for something to reconnect me with the truth I used to know–that we live in a loving universe, that we are products of that loving energy, and that we are here to express and experience unconditional love.
You’re only as sick as your secrets. Here’s hoping that your secrets are of the loving, healing kind.
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