I was off work from December 13th until January 3rd.
I spent the first week quietly perplexed about how I got to the place I was in. How did I end up here? Am I unemployable now? What would people think? The perfectionist in me was visualizing the consequences of me asking for the help I so desperately needed… and it wasn’t pretty. I saw myself as unemployed, unEMPLOYABLE, everyone would shame me for needing to take time off, my husband would leave me, I’d be poor, I’d be joyless, alone, homeless, jobless, and friendless. As Brene Brown would say, I was dress rehearsing tragedy, and I was doing it spectacularly well.
When I wasn’t pondering about the impending doom of my future, I spent a lot of time listlessly staring out the window or half watching some netflix series whose theme songs now take me back to memories of being in my bed in the trenches of the second worst depressive episode I’ve had to date. (You guessed it, this wasn’t going to my last bout of major despression).
The Cipralex still wasn’t working, and I had doubled my dosage to 20 mgs / day. I lived in the grey, waiting for one of the many lifelines I’d be given to start working.
I had set a small goal for myself to visit as many new dog parks as I could while I was off work. Being outside with my dog made me feel half alive. Some days my husband would have to force me out of bed to go to the park, and these are the pictures he took. These are some of my darkest days, but being outside with my dog and husband gave me moments of light.