Through the journey of depression at this point in my life, David and I are having a lot of conversations. I'm trying to cope, absolutely. But I'm also trying to learn all I can about depression in general and about my depression.
A recent discussion lead me to the realization that I cannot place the trigger on Dad's illness, Dad's death, or the lose of the farm job afterward. The trigger came from working at an animal shelter. Until I began at the shelter I was accepting and respecting my grief, while it would consume me for few moments, I was able to release it once it had washed over me. I began working at the shelter four months after Dad had passed. I should have known not to jump into something so utterly consuming so shortly afterward. I should have known to continue to give my grief it's own time. But hindsight is 20/20 as they say.
Let me walk you through the day of a shelter worker. You are constantly on the move, constantly working. And with short staff you sometimes come in an hour early. So my days often went something along the lines of coming in early (7am), feeding dogs or cats (depending on what I was on at the time), cleaning dog kennels or cat cubbies before 11 when we had an hour lunch, because we opened to the public at noon. Now finishing cleaning by 11 was nearly impossible, and once we got pop-ups there was no way to finish by 11. When David and I did the math, we realized at the earliest, with having no recleans which didn't happen, we'd be done by 12:30. After lunch we'd either keep checking the cleaning or we worked up front. And at night we did a last check and fed the animals. Often we'd be out 30 minutes to an hour later. This doesn't sound so bad. Until you start to realize the emotional toll. On a good day, we'd get five animals adopted out. And on a normal day, ten to fifteen animals were being brought in either by surrender, animal control, people bringing strays in, etc. Point being more animals were entering a already full facility then exiting. Animals were also constantly sick, and it made me worry. In a job like this, you wouldn't think you'd bring it home. But I did. My worry, my problem solving to make things quicker but still effective, the ideas I had to encourage my fellow employees, and a lot of times my own sickness that I couldn't seem to get over completely. Because this job consumed me, I put my grief aside. The third of each month would come, I'd listen to a song that reminded me of Dad on the car ride to work and cry for a minute, pull myself together and walk into work. And that was it. I went from allowing my grief time every few days, to taking five minutes a month (if that).
There are a myriad of reasons why I left. But it cannot be ignored that my health was declining fast. And I didn't care. I was too focused on the job to care about myself. Once I left, the two weeks that had Christmas and New Years felt amazing. I felt a weight lift. But then reality set in, and I was overwhelmed by the grief I hadn't allowed for five months. And I was overwhelmed by the fact that my health was on a downward spiral. And I was overwhelmed by how low I began to feel. How hard it was to lift myself into a positive mood.
So here is something I've learned about myself, about my journey to having depression and the next step to getting better. I was deeply sad after losing my father and after losing a job I loved. But my depression was not triggered by these, it was triggered by adding a hopeless job on top of a grieving period. And, even more so with someone who seeks validation and worth from others, and even more so with someone who will always have anxiety to some extent or another, even more so for someone who has the potential of becoming depressed especially after a time of losing someone so dear to their heart, they need to protect themselves. No one should put themselves completely on the back burner. And especially someone who is dealing with all of this. Self care, no matter how cliche it sounds, is hugely important. And letting someone know and letting someone help in that care is hugely important too.
I will heal. I'm already in a good process and stepping closer and closer to that healing. This will make me a stronger and better person. The shelter taught me lessons that I will always be grateful for and it taught me how tough I am. With this healing, I am learning things about myself and about the choices I've made thus far and what roles they play.
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