It’s a common pain in the ass when a couple is planning their wedding: Someone threatens to boycott the event unless so-and-so is uninvited.
Mood music:
In the run-up to my wedding in 1998, a close cousin pulled this when he got into a fight with my aunt — his mom. She went to the wedding and he skipped it. I haven’t seen or heard from him since then. Erin and I were paying for most of the wedding ourselves and were determined to keep the guest list small. That led to all kinds of hurt feelings about this one or that one being invited while someone else was excluded.
At my sister‘s wedding in 1996, a whole section of the family — led by my mother — boycotted the event because they were not fans of the groom. That they were ultimately right about the guy is beside the point. They could have given her love and support anyway, but chose not to. I don’t really fault them in the end. We’re all human and our emotions often get the better of us.
But to the couple getting married, this sort of bullshit is the stuff of terrible anxiety and lost sleep. They’re trying to make their loved ones part of their special day, then someone decides to make it about them and start dictating the terms of their attendance.
A bright exception was my cousin’s wedding last summer. A lot of family members who aren’t on speaking terms stuffed their attitudes in their pockets and behaved on what turned out to be a wonderful occasion. At the time I gave my mother a lot of credit for being cordial on that day.
After the wedding my mother called and asked if we could try to heal the rift between us. Since then I’ve invested a lot of effort and emotion into doing so. Along the way, I unblocked her from Facebook. Trust me: It took a lot for me to do that.
She found this blog, as I intended. I knew it would be hard for her to read, but I was hoping she could get past some of the more unpleasant childhood memories I shared and see the bigger picture — that I had forgiven her and taken responsibility for my own mistakes; and that my head was in a much healthier place then it was the year our relationship crumbled. That’s the whole point of this blog, really, that a person can overcome a lot of ugly emotion and turmoil and discover real joy.
Unfortunately, she missed all that stuff and zeroed straight in on what she saw as my distorted picture of her. Over several conversations and blog posts directed right at her, I tried to steer her toward the right perspective.
But like she has done so many times before, she emerged with a picture of herself as the victim of someone else’s torment. First she unfriended me on Facebook. Then she called me and suggested that I was a deeply disturbed mental case in need of emergency treatment.
And now we’ve come full circle:
My sister is getting married again and my mother has threatened to skip the wedding unless me, my wife and kids are excluded.
Like so many times before, she is making it about her grudge instead of someone else’s happiness.
It’s sad. I feel for her, because I want her to be in a better mental place. But I guess that’s not going to happen.
I’m going to have to put this relationship back on ice. I don’t regret trying, though. It’s better to try and fail then to do nothing.
A confession that probably won’t shock you: I used to turn into a pile of jelly each year when it was time for the job performance review most employed people endure every 12 months.
Mood music:
I bring this up because my annual review is Monday. Today I’m supposed to turn in my self-evaluation. And I feel an absolute lack of drama about it.
Overconfidence? Perhaps.
Apathy? Definitely not.
It’s just another indication of where my head is today compared to a few years ago.
It all goes back to the habit I used to have of trying to please everyone. I wanted to be seen as the golden boy in any job I took on. I took constructive criticism as a stab to the gut — a sign that nobody liked me and I was good for nothing.
This feeling really took on monstrous proportions when I worked for TechTarget as senior news writer for SearchSecurity.com. TechTarget is very big on goal setting and having different teams compete with each other. That’s really not a bad thing, but for me — a complete mess of OCD, fear and anxiety at the time — it was like poison.
Every December, as review time drew closer, I’d become a nervous wreck, unable to think about anything but how I would do on the review. Juicing up my sorry state even further was that December was award-submission time. TechTarget gives out these awards called the Bull’s-Eye. I felt enormous pressure to win at least two a year. I wrote about this sorry phenomenon in an earlier post called “The Agony Of Awards.”
Like many of the things that drove my fear and anxiety, the review-time breakdown stopped at some point. I can’t exactly remember the year. Like everything else, I chalk it up to years of therapy, medication and spiritual growth on the path to getting my OCD under control.
So now I sit here, ready to write up my self evaluation. I’m thinking of just writing “I am awesome. Give me more money.”
That might be a career-limiting thing to do, though, so I will play it straight.
I just got a promotion and a raise. Playing it straight is the least I could do.
It saddens me to see that three people — one a 12-year-old boy — chose to end their lives in recent days.
Most of you heard about legendary “Soul Train” creator Don Cornelius. The other suicides are Mike Kelley, a famous artist who worked with the band Sonic Youth, and, most heartbreaking to me, 12-year-old Clifford Rodrigues of New Bedford, Mass.
Mood music:
According to WCVB Channel 5 News, emergency responders found Clifford Rodrigues, 12, unconscious. An uncle said family members tried to revive the boy after he was found hanging upstairs. EMTs also tried to resuscitate the boy, but he was later pronounced dead at St. Luke’s Hospital.
I share the sentiments of my friend Joe Yuska, who wrote on Facebook, “I don’t care if he was bullied. I don’t care if he was gay or straight. It just tears me up inside to think that someone at that age is in a spot where that seems like his only option.”
First, for those who tell you suicide is a trip straight to hell, here’s a little clarification. My friend Linda, herself a person of strong Catholic Faith, recently sent me a passage from the Catechism of the Catholic Church that shows that suicide isn’t the trip to eternal damnation many in the church would have us believe:
“2282 Grave psychological disturbances, anguish, or grave fear of hardship, suffering, or torture can diminish the responsibility of the one committing suicide.
2283 We should not despair of the eternal salvation of persons who have taken their own lives. By ways known to him alone, God can provide the opportunity for salutary repentance. The Church prays for persons who have taken their own lives.”
In other words, when a person chooses to end it, they are usually in a place where the brain has ceased to function in a way where they are capable of rational thought. That’s the sickness. The suicide is where the victim succumbs to the illness.
Now that I’ve gotten that out of the way, here’s something for those left behind. It’s a list of things to keep in mind as you move forward and try to make sense of what has happened.
–Blaming yourself is pointless. No matter how many times you replay events in your mind, the fact is that it’s not your fault. For one thing, it’s impossible to get into the head of someone who is contemplating suicide. Sure, there are signs, but since we all get the blues sometimes, it’s very easy to dismiss the signs as something close to normal. When someone is loud in contemplating suicide, it’s usually a cry for help. When the depressed says nothing and even appears OK, it’s usually because they’ve made their decision and are in the quiet, planning stages.
–Blaming each other is even more pointless. Take it from me: Nerves in your circle of family and friends are so raw right now that it won’t take much for relationships to snap into pieces. A week after my friend’s death I wrote a column about it, revealing what in hindsight was too much detail. His family was furious and most of them haven’t talked to me since. They feel I was exploiting his death to advance my writing career and get attention. What I’ve learned, and this is tough to admit, is that you’re going to have to let it go when the finger pointing starts. It’s better not to engage the other side. Nobody is in their right mind at this point, so go easy on each other. Give people space to make their errors in judgment and learn from it.
–Don’t demonize the dead. When a friend takes their life, one of the things that gnaws at the survivors is the notion that — if there is a Heaven and Hell — those who kill themselves are doomed to the latter. I’m a devout Catholic, so you can bet your ass this one has gone through my mind. What I’ve learned though, through my own experiences in the years since, is that depression is a clinical disease. When you are mentally ill, your brain isn’t firing on all thrusters. You engage in self-destructive behavior even though you understand the consequences. A person thinking about suicide is not operating on a sane, normally-functioning mind. So to demonize someone for taking their own life is pointless. To demonize the person, you have to assume they were in their right mind at the time of the act. And you know they weren’t. My practice today is to simply pray for those people, that their souls will still be redeemed and they will know peace. It’s really the best you can do.
– Break the stigma. One of the friends left behind in this latest tragedy has already done something that honors her friend’s life: She went on Facebook and directed people toward the American Association of Suicidology website, specifically the page on knowing the warning signs. That’s a great example of doing something to honor your friend’s memory instead of sitting around second guessing yourself. The best thing to do now is educate people on the disease so that sufferers can help themselves and friends and family can really be of service.
–On with your own life. Nobody will blame you for not being yourself for awhile. You have, after all, just experienced one of the worst tragedies there is. But try not to let it paralyze you. Life must go on. You have to get on with your work and be there for those around you.
Life can be a brutal thing. But it IS a beautiful thing.
Yesterday Mashable had an article about a new plug-in that alerts you when someone unfriends you, de-activates their page or ignores your friend request.
Mood music:
“That would be bad for my mental health,” I told myself, seconds before hitting the “install” button. I was reminded of the Black Flag song where Henry Rollins screams:
You say you don’t want it You don’t want it Say you don’t want it Then you slip it on in
When I told Erin about the plug-in she scolded me with the very words that came to mind right before I installed it: “That would be sooooo bad for your mental health.”
So why did I install the thing, knowing what I know about my compulsive tendencies? To be honest, I was curious.
I’ve written before about Facebook Unfriend Syndrome: That nagging feeling you get when someone unfriends you. You wonder if you offended the person and want to ask them why they left. It’s a stupid state of mind, to be sure. But having OCD is partly about developing stupid compulsions.
Indeed, I have offended people over things I’ve written in this blog. A close friend got mad at me for something I wrote and ditched me, though she recently added me back. My own mother defriended me because she couldn’t handle my version of past events. I long ago accepted that I’m going to lose people along the way. That’s life, especially when you’re the outspoken type.
With all that in mind, any sane person would prefer not to know who unfriended them. I never claimed I was playing with a full deck.
An hour after I installed it, I got a message, just like any notification you get on Facebook, saying so-and-so deactivated their profile. An hour later, someone else deactivated theirs.
“Hmm,” I thought. “It is good to know when someone kills their account.”
Now I almost find myself wanting someone to unfriend me just so I can watch this new toy do its thing.
It’s crazy, I know.
There are arguments for having this kind of tool. Seeing the types of people who leave can give you an indication of who is more or less likely to want your content. If a relative does it, it’s good to know so you can try to fix whatever you did to bruise them. Of course, sometimes family members deserve to be bruised.
In the final analysis, though, I’ve decided to uninstall it because, as Erin said, it’s dangerous for my brand of OCD. I also realize people have a right to unfriend without telling people.
This is for those who believe in a higher power — especially the messed-up Catholics among us. Those who might take offense should go away and come back tomorrow. I won’t think any less of you.
In the Catholic Faith, there’s a Sacrament of Reconciliation — modern language for going to confession. Duncan did it for the first time Saturday. Sean, Erin and I used the occasion to do it, too.
Because you tell your sins to an also-flawed human being (the priest), a lot of people are turned off. I got past that by realizing the priest is really just a direct phone line to God. He doesn’t have to be pure as the driven snow to fill the role.
Mood music:
Being the screw-up that I am, I need to empty the trash from my soul every few months. The poison is constantly building up in my system — anger, resentment, narcissism, selfishness.
Simply put, Confession is where I go to unload all the things I keep doing wrong. It’s just me and the priest. It’s a moment of truth, where I can be honest about myself before God and let the accumulated angst, guilt and exhaustion drip away.
For those of you who have different beliefs, the concept may not make sense. You may even find the concept ridiculous. That’s you’re right.
I know a lot of good Catholics who struggle with it.
One guy I know hasn’t been to Confession in nearly a decade. Last time he went he listed his sins to a priest who was later convicted of sexual abuse. Why, he asked me one day, should he be telling his sins to someone who was supposed to be clean and trustworthy, but was in fact dripping with filth more foul than anything he could confess?
It’s a fair question.
I’m sure a lot of people in Haverhill are going through the same emotions over Father Keith LeBlanc, who allegedly used church funds to buy pornography. Is this the kind of person you want to go to to confess about having dirty thoughts when an attractive woman walks by?
The man who confessed to a sexually abusive priest is a good man. He raised four children who grew up to be pretty awesome. He’d give you the shirt off his back. He also continues to go to church almost every Sunday.
But he doesn’t go to Confession because he doesn’t believe he should be confessing to a priest who is full of sin himself.
It’s a shame he feels that way, because I think Confession would do him good. At the same time, I can’t blame him. That kind of anger takes a lot of years to tame.
Here’s how I see it:
We forget priests are human, prone to all the mistakes the rest of us make. In the case of Father LeBlanc, he was under the spell of one of the most insidious addictions a person could have. When the addiction has you by the balls, you do terrible things to feed the habit. Stealing money, for example.
My most destructive addiction was compulsive binge eating. I always knew it was wrong, but I couldn’t stop. And I used a lot of money that wasn’t mine to feed that addiction. It was money from the family account, but it could have easily been money from someplace else.
My kids have been selling popcorn for the Cub Scouts and I recently took the order form and cash envelope to work to sell some for them. For a good three weeks I had an envelope full of cash sitting in my laptop bag. Five or 10 years ago, chances are pretty good that I would have burned through some or all of that money to get my fix. Thank God I don’t have to face that danger today.
Addicts of all stripes: Food, booze, drugs — know exactly what I’m talking about.
You know it’s wrong. You badly want to stop. BUT YOU CAN’T.
Sounds like every other sin out there.
Priests have a role to play in the Sacrament of Reconciliation, the official term for Confession. Their job is to sit there and absorb someone else’s sins, then grant forgiveness.
What people fail to understand is that they are telling their sins to God. The priest is just a conduit.
It’s a brutally hard concept to swallow, especially when we spend our lives trying to oversimplify the fight between good and evil.
All I know is that Confession is important to me.
I screw up daily. I’m forgiven for sins and then I go out and do the same stupid things all over again. It’s like a trash can. You empty it and spend the next week filling it back up with garbage. Then it has to be emptied again.
When I go into the Confession booth and dump out the garbage, I walk away feeling a hundred pounds lighter.
If that sounds stupid to you, I don’t know what to tell you.
In this blog, I can only tell you where I’ve been and how I got through my own personal hell.
But what works for me can’t possibly work for everyone.
I’m just glad I found another piece of God’s Grace. Hopefully, I’m a better man for it.
I’m pissed off about an article in Psychology Today that suggests smarter people consume more alcohol. As someone who’s sober, the article is kind of insulting. After all, I consider myself a reasonably intelligent person.
Mood music:
Here’s a snippet from the article by Satoshi Kanazawa:
Drinking alcohol is evolutionarily novel, so the Hypothesis would predict that more intelligent people drink more alcohol than less intelligent people.
Human consumption of alcohol, however, was unintentional, accidental, and haphazard until about 10,000 years ago. The intentional fermentation of fruits and grain to yield ethanol arose only recently in human history. The production of beer, which relies on a large amount of grain, and that of wine, which similarly requires a large amount of grapes, could not have taken place before the advent of agriculture around 8,000 BC and the consequent agricultural surplus. Archeological evidence dates the production of beer and wine to Mesopotamia at about 6,000 BC. The origin of distilled spirits is far more recent, and is traced to Middle East or China at about 700 AD. The word alcohol – al kohl – is Arabic in origin, like many other words that begin with “al,” like algebra, algorithm, alchemy, and Al Gore.
His hypothesis pisses me off because there are days when I hate being sober. I’d give anything for a few drops of wine, for that mellow feeling I get after a couple glasses.
It’s also been drilled into my head that addiction isn’t about being smart or stupid. The perfect description comes from this “West Wing” episode where Leo, the chief of staff, tries to explain what alcohol does to him:
As Leo says, his brain works differently. It has nothing to do with being smart or stupid.
Nevertheless, there are days where my addictions make me feel supremely stupid. It has certainly compelled me to do stupid things in the past.
To be fair, the article doesn’t really say that only smart people drink a lot. Reading it just pisses me off because I can’t drink anymore.
I can’t eat flour or sugar anymore. Lots of smart people love those two ingredients.
I can’t smoke anymore. Lots of smart people smoke.
I won’t lie: I used to think I looked very smart and sophisticated with a cigar hanging from my lips.
Some would call that stupid. Whatever.
The bottom line is that I can’t drink or do the other things anymore. It’s not because I lack intelligence. It’s because that intelligence is powerless against the mental impulse that screams out for a good feeling; for a break.
Mine is a particularly strange tale of addiction. My biggest problem was compulsive binge eating. My drinking accelerated after I put the flour and sugar down because I needed a crutch. Then I realized I needed the wine a little too much, so I put that down and started on the cigars for a crutch.
Now I don’t smoke anymore, and there are days where I struggle to find a good release. Yoga doesn’t do it for me. As Erin points out, yoga could do it for me, but I’m prejudiced against it. Fair enough.
Moderation doesn’t exist in my world. It’s all or nothing.
That doesn’t make me dumb. But it might mean I’m a victim of dumb luck.
Guest column: An OCD sufferer finds that managing his demon is a lot like managing the dark side of The Force.
Mood music:
A few months ago I told you about my friend and former co-worker Steve Repsys and how, as two undiagnosed OCD sufferers, our working relationship was often the stuff of comedy. What follows is Steve in his own words, explaining how helpful it can be to open up about the disorder and “give in to the dark side.”
***
“You don’t know the power of the dark side.” Darth Vader to Luke Skywalker
For those of us suffering from OCD, this mental condition is our “dark side.” Often times we ignore or minimize this “dark side” because we are so embarrassed by it. When I don’t acknowledge this part of me, I find myself running into problems, like Luke Skywalker in the cantina. But when you “embrace the dark side,” there is a subtle but noticeable change.
I learned this the other day when I shared with my co-worker Kate that I suffer from OCD. Kate is one of the nicest people I work with and is extremely approachable. Somehow in one of our recent conversations, I felt confident enough in our friendship to divulge this “bombshell.”
When I described what I’ve experienced over the last few months – anger, frustration and humiliation – that large part of me that I’ve often kept hidden from others grew a bit smaller. I was surprised how easy it was for me to talk about it. I was like C-3PO – you couldn’t get me to stop talking about it.
Conversing with Kate, she was attentive and asked questions so she could better comprehend what it is like to live with OCD.
It amazed me – like when Luke found out that Han wasn’t in it for the money – that she was so touched and flattered that I shared this important piece of personal information with her.
I don’t have to worry about her thinking of me any different. Instead, I gained her admiration because I had the courage to admit there is this “demon” inside of me that I can control.
Now I can add a new weapon – talking about it openly and freely to people I trust – to my arsenal of weapons to keep my OCD at bay (not Docking Bay 93).
As Ben told Luke when introducing him to the force, “You’ve taken your first step into a larger world.”
As I mentioned earlier, I’m taking Wellbutrin to combat a tougher-than-usual bout of winter depression. Here’s where I stand eight days in.
Mood music:
I think I’m starting to feel it, though it’s hard to know for sure this soon. The nurse told me it could take several weeks before I’d feel the full effect, since Wellbutrin slowly accumulates. I have noticed a few things, though:
–I’m a little more focused than I’ve been in several weeks.
–I’m not feeling like I’m in a fog as much as I had been.
–I haven’t been feeling down like I was a week ago.
Whether it’s the Wellbutrin kicking in or not, I’m just glad to be feeling better.
Note: Four hours after writing the part you just read, I came down with vicious mood swings. As I write this, my skin doesn’t fit right, I’m itchy all over (yes, I showered today) and I’m agitated as hell. The good news is that I have gone through the same exact thing whenever my Prozac dose has been adjusted. It lasts a few hours, and then everything evens out. It’s usually the point I reach when the medication is about to kick in.
For those wondering what this experiment is all about, let’s review:
I started taking Wellbutrin because it’s supposed to shore up depleted brain chemistry that the Prozac isn’t designed to fix.
The Prozac increases the amount of serotonin, a natural substance in the brain that helps maintain mental balance. Serotonin is a neurotransmitter, a substance that helps transmit messages from one nerve cell to another. In other words, it keeps traffic in the brain moving normally.
It has served me well, but this winter the blue moods have been tougher to shake. Enter the Wellbutrin, a drug used to treat major depression and seasonal affective disorder. It’s also used to help people quit smoking because it squashes cravings.
While the Prozac raises Serotonin levels, Wellbutrin shores up another neurotransmitter called Dopamine.
If this all sounds confusing, think of the brain as a car engine. To run properly, the engine needs the right amount of fluids, including brake fluid, transmission fluid and oil. Run low on any one of these and you got problems.
It’s amusing for me considering my efforts to kick some addictions in recent years. Despite my sobriety and abstinence, here I am, finding that there’s better living through chemistry after all.
I was saddened to see tweets today from a guy who says he was fired over his depression.
Mood music:
He tweeted:
“We’re a small company, there’s no room for passengers.” – My boss after I told her about my depression and how I’m getting help with it.
Then, another tweet:
I just had a phone call from my boss. I’ve been fired. Wow.
He also shared the termination letter he received:
“Dear (name removed):
It is with regret that we must terminate your contract with COMPANY NAME, due to non-performance. As discussed with your line manager, ***** ******, on several occasions, there has been a lack of activity resulting in lack of business and an unacceptable future business pipeline.
We do not take these decisions lightly but as you admitted yourself, you have been unable to pick up the phone and make calls lately and, as a small business, we cannot continue to pay a salesman a salary when no sales are forecast.
You are due one month’s notice as per your Contract of Employment and so will be paid up until 14th February 2012. This will be paid into your bank account on the 26th January (for January) and the balance on the 14th.
As of today you will be on garden leave and not expected to attend the office nor contact clients or candidates.”
A few thoughts:
If he did his job well and the boss couldn’t handle the fact that he has a mental illness, that’s an outrage he should fight tooth and nail. I wrote about such a case a few months ago in a post called “The Mental Illness Stigma That Won’t Die, Part 2.”
My tirade was inspired by this comment posted on the LinkedIn NAMI group discussion board:
I LOST MY JOB AS DIRECTOR – COMMUNICATIONS FROM A REGIONAL CHAMBER OF COMMERCE AFTER DISCLOSING MY 30 YEARS OF LIVING AND WORKING WITH BIPOLAR IN DEC. 2009.
Now after trying to find another job, I applied for SSDI. I just got rejected with a letter saying,”The medical evidence in your file shows that your condition does cause restriction in your ability to function, however, while your condition prevents you from doing previous jobs, you still have the ability to do unskilled work.”
I was diagnosed with bipolar in 1980, have bouts of depression, social anxiety, migraines, gerd and visable essential tremors in my hands and legs. I cannot stand unsupported for more than a few minutes and the tremors make me not want to leave my home and when I do anxiety worsens them. I can take medication to calm the tremors but those meds also negatively effect my memory, errors, and cognitive abilities.
I know most people get rejected but I am almost 60 and have worked in public marketing communications at managerial levels since 1984. What should I do?
I felt I needed to disclose as the work was socially demanding and my tremors showed.
I felt in disclosing that especially a Chamber of Commerce would be somewhat more understanding. Instead they became hostile and took away my startegic job duties and bumped me down to a typist.
The question I have is this: If someone loses their ability to do their job because of heart disease, a terrible injury or cancer, do they get dropped cold by their employer? Do they get treated in a hostile manner? Not from my experience.
I’ve known many people who developed a disease or got in an accident, and none lost their jobs. Their seat simply stayed empty and, in some cases, temps were brought in to do their work until they either recovered or resigned. They were treated with support.
If this woman did her job admirably for many years and just recently hit a period of intensified mental illness, she should be treated like the cancer or heart patient. To fire her because she’s “gone crazy” is, in my opinion, unacceptable.
These stories ratchet up the fear level for those suffering from depression, OCD, bipolar disorder and the like. It proves to the sufferer that mental illness is still viewed as a less-than-legitimate illness, something that’s more a figment of the sufferer’s imagination.
Many good people have died because of mental illness. They were ashamed and afraid to get help because of the stupid notion that they are somehow crazy and either need their ass kicked or be institutionalized. So they try to go it alone and either end up committing suicide because their brains are knocked so far off their axis or they die from other diseases that develop when the depression forces the sufferer into excessive eating, drinking, starvation, drug taking or a combination of these things.
There’s also the ridiculous idea that a person’s workmanship becomes valueless when they’re in a depression. If someone misses work because they have cancer, they are off fighting a brave battle. They are fighting a brave battle, of course. No doubt about it.
But depression? That person is slacking off and no longer performing.
Now that I’ve said all that, let’s look at the other side.
In the case of this just-fired fellow, the boss claimed he was not doing his job and that revenue was being lost. If his illness prevented him from doing his job, that does put the employer in a bind. I get that. If his condition has suddenly nosedived and it prevents him from doing what he used to do, that’s a tragedy.
I do believe that people like us have a responsibility to prove we’re up to the challenges we seek.
Beth Horne, president and CEO of The Horne Agency, a marketing and advertising firm, has lived this from both sides, as the mental illness sufferer and as an employer. She wrote the following via the United States Mental Health Professionals group on LinkedIn:
I was diagnosed with Bipolar 2 twenty years ago. I received treatment and have been stable for years, thanks to excellent therapy, medication and education. Before returning to school for my PhD in Psychology, I worked in Marketing/Advertising for several large media companies before opening my own advertising agency. I was open about my diagnosis with my employers during my interview process, and it never hindered me from being hired. In fact, I never interviewed for a job I did not get, due to my work record, resume and references.
I think that my work performance more than made up for any issues I may have had regarding my disorder, such as sometimes having periods of depression or getting a bit manic when life changes occurred. I worked very hard NOT to let them affect my work performance or reduce my ability to generate revenue for my company.
However, I have been in management with these companies and had employees with mental issues who did not take care of themselves and they became liabilities to the company and had to be let go. Some would refuse to take their medication and attend therapy, some would miss work continually or be so over-medicated they were in a constant stupor, unable to perform their duties. I had one woman who came into the office in such a manic state I had to ask her to stay in her office until she could have her husband take her to her doctor, and to please refrain from taking any sales calls, for fear of her ruining client relations.
If someone knows they have a mental issue/disorder, it is a personal choice whether or not to accept their diagnosis and get help and follow their treatment. Is this always easy? NO! But if they are to function in the work environment, it is their responsibility to do anything and everything in their power to stay as healthy as possible. If this is not possible for them, then it is time to look into disability.
Employers need to understand that not everyone with a diagnosis of a mental illness is like another…there are people with bipolar disorder who have little problem going on with their daily routine with just therapy and medication, while others find it impossible to blend into the work environment. I use bipolar disorder as just one example, but there are many others, as we all are aware. I have a mother who has a mild form of OCD and is a supervisor at a hospital. What better profession could there be for someone who will always be strict about following rules, cleanliness and excellent patient care than an RN? Or like my brother, who also has the same issue, works in IT?
Both are successful and well-adjusted, and their coworkers probably have no idea they have any mental problems whatsoever. So before they judge and dismiss a potential employee because of ignorance, they should look at the person as a whole and not just their diagnosis.
Like Beth, I’ve been judged by my workmanship and not by mental health issues I’ve disclosed. That has been the case for me in every job I’ve ever had. I do my current job well, and that’s all my bosses care about. I’m very fortunate.
There have also been times in past jobs where my workmanship suffered because I wasn’t taking care of myself. I was refusing to even consider therapy or medication, and I sank lower and lower.
I was reinforcing the stigma instead of breaking it.
Today I succeed because I refuse to let the struggles render me useless. I fight harder and longer, and I never give up.
But if you’re in the grip of deep depression, that’s not always possible. I feel for people in that situation, and pray that they’ll come through this better than before.
It’s been an interesting month in mental disorder awareness. In taking steps to nip wintertime depression in the bud, I’ve learned that OCD isn’t my only mental defect.
Mood music:
It appears that as OCD messes with one side of my brain, Attention Deficit Disorder is toying with the other side. This little epiphany happened when I visited the nurse who helps me manage my regimen of medication.
She asked a lot of questions she usually doesn’t ask about my focus of late. I noted that while I still have frequent OCD moments — particularly if I’m knee-deep in a work project or tackling a list of chores at home — I also seem to be having trouble concentrating a lot. One recent day in work, for example, it took all the strength I had to focus on the work at hand.
That almost never happens. But this time, doing the work was painful. It gave me a migraine. If I hated what I do that would be normal. But I love what I do. Meanwhile, at home, I’d stand in the kitchen, oblivious to the fact that I was standing right where Erin was working on dinner. I would try to give her a hug or shoulder rub while she was in the middle of a task — almost as if I had one foot in this dimension and another foot in some other world.
There’s more to it, but those are a couple good examples.
Looking back on my life, it all makes sense. The OCD-ADD push and pull has always been there to some degree. As a kid I would go into OCD mode, organizing my Hot Wheels and Star Wars action figures just so. Then I’d go the other way and have a hell of a time trying to focus on simple homework assignments or chores around the house.
The Prozac nurse tells me it’s actually typical for someone to go back and forth with these disorders. OCD and ADD operate on the same mental plain. Both spark anxiety (I used to be crippled by anxiety, but that’s not an issue today) and mood swings. Both are effected by the time of year, amount of daylight vs. darkness, etc.
The image that comes to mind is two-face, that villain in Batman with the split personality.
