A Fish Too Far ~ part one

Today is a difficult day. I have nothing arduous planned. The sun is shining. Still, in spite of, or perhaps because of those things, it is a difficult day.

So, the background:
I made a mistake yesterday. I have been back at work for nearly 4 weeks now following a similarly-lengthed period of sick leave - my longest ever in my entire working history - and have been working on reduced hours since my return. As such, my workload has thankfully been reduced significantly in the sense that I have been - and happily agreed to be - focusing on particular areas rather than try and juggle everything, and my colleagues and now a temp have been tasked with picking up the slack, my slack. It's an odd thing. On the one hand, as is the Law of Sod, the weather has finally bucked up its ideas since my return to work and so I have been grateful of the reduced hours and responsibility so that I could carry on with the outdoor maintenance and prettifying tasks that I was unable to complete whilst off. However, contrary to what is needed when suffering depression, as a lone/home worker I have been even more isolated and felt even more worthless in many ways, especially knowing that many of the things I was involved in or even instigated are now being dealt with - or not - by my already over-stretched colleagues. In fact I genuinely believe that no one would actually notice if I was doing any work or not at the moment, but I guess in a way that's made me more determined to do what I've been doing well and with high impact.

So, yesterday there was a Team Meeting scheduled. This is something that our little team of 4 (plus boss) usually moan about as it makes for a very long day for most of us, with little tangible outcome. A typical meeting really. However, it does bring us all together and we usually have a bit of banter, discuss recent triumphs and more often than not, share our woes with this system or that procedure or whatever. It's good for the soul even if not for the workload management. I personally believe that such meetings are important, though they need to be managed correctly and ideally actually discuss things that the team need and want to discuss rather than random stuff that someone else thinks is important. So, I saw the meeting scheduled last week and confirmed my attendance, much to my boss's surprise who questioned whether it would be good use of my already restricted hours to spend 3 hours travelling to and from the office in addition to the meeting time itself. I countered that as isolation is the worst thing to foster depression (or do I mean the best?), it would be good for me to see the others. "Oh ok" she said.

As it was, I then had a last minute court hearing booked in for the morning of the meeting so had to attend that first. It went well, as expected to be honest as it was a simple case: the tenant I was taking action against thanked me for my help and everyone from the security guards to the judge himself seemed to be in good spirits. A good start to the day then I thought, as I got in my car and sped as fast as the speed limits would allow the 40 odd miles up to our 'local' office, arriving about 2 hours after everyone else. That might seem late, but given how long some of these meetings go on for, I really hadn't missed much.

Our local office is tiny. It has only 4 staff actually based in it, 3 of whom are often out and about, leaving just the admin person really. Most other staff use it for hot-desking only to make use of their time there, which is inevitably only for meetings. On arriving I received a warm welcome from our lovely admin lady, and a hello-how-are-you from one other person who was there. I was blanked completely by the senior manager and noticed a chap I'd never seen before sitting at one of the hot-desks, and presumed him to be our new temp. He was on the phone so I didn't disturb him and assumed we'd be introduced later. So, I went into the meeting room and joined my colleagues, to a variable warmish response, certainly nothing like normal. I was quickly asked how court went and gave a cheery response, which in turn was dismissed quickly as the meeting resumed. I sat myself down, got out my laptop and agenda and brought myself up to speed as the chat continued.

The meeting went on pretty much as normal from there with us briefly going over certain agenda items and having a few anecdotes in between, all of us chipping in as normal. I was a bit put out that queries regarding some of my previous cases - that were suddenly felt worthy of mention by my boss - were addressed directly to the colleague covering them now, even though he hadn't done the groundwork or knew as much about the context as I did, and was quite pleased when he also picked up on this and made sure to defer to me in the responses. Still, the discussion continued to be addressed to him and they were referred to as 'his' cases. Ok I thought, suck it up, he is dealing with them now after all. However, even if they had not previously been my cases, normally I would have been asked for my opinion as I used to be considered something of a knowledge base in these areas. Hmm, move on and keep smiling.

We then got to a discussion about staff welfare, and some recent changes to our appraisal and pay process, which had left many, many staff, including me, feeling even more under-valued than normal. It was actually useful for me to realise that I was not the only one, what with everything else that had been going on, as I was beginning to feel victimised. I wondered whether I should say anything, but decided the better option really was to keep quiet and let my colleagues do the talking. They, after all, had continued to struggle on and cover my workload while I was off. The senior manager joined us at this point in order to - as far as I can ascertain - give a response on behalf of the company to the concerns raised, and possibly feedback to whoever it is that these things need to be fed back to. As the minutes dragged passed, I had that feeling that you have in a dream where you are speaking but no one can hear you. I felt that even though it was for once, not me doing battle, that my colleagues' comments were being "taken on board" and yes "would be fed back", I noted the complete absence of any note-taking or any indication as to what would actually happen with this feedback. I knew, just knew without any doubt, that this was a futile exercise. I'm not normally like that: I will argue on behalf of the little people until the cows come home - is that a mix of metaphors? - but just then, like some kind of enlightenment, I knew I couldn't sit and listen to this any more. I excused myself and left the room. No one asked why, and I didn't give a reason.

After getting a glass of water and making small talk with the two co-workers outside the meeting room - the temp unknown man having disappeared - I finally gave up waiting for that part of the discussion to be over and for the senior to exit. I went back in, again sat quietly except I think for one comment. Eventually the ordeal finished and we 'stopped' for lunch. What this means during these meetings is that we all whip out our respective pack lunches or other goodies that may have been brought in to share, grab a fresh drink and carry on. I have argued before that given that these usually turn into at least 10 hour days, with driving at each end during rush hour traffic, we should actually stop for a proper break. It's never happened and we all know the drill. I alas, having rushed to court and then to the office had not prepared a lunch and had only grabbed some grapes and a box of left-over fruit & nut mix, but thought actually that would probably keep me going for a bit. However, in the blink of an eye our hostess, aka our boss, presented 3 plates full of bagels with cream cheese and salmon on them. She positioned them across the table and as she did so said casually, but pointedly, "you don't eat fish, do you Pauline?" "No" I responded, trying to smile, but more than a little put out that she had remembered I was vegetarian but still put salmon on each and every bagel. If she'd have gone "Oh shit! Sorry Pauline, I forgot you don't eat fish!" I wouldn't have thought anything of it except that she was a bit dipsy sometimes. Still I thought, I wasn't expecting her to make me lunch. Odd though that she had quite blatantly appeared to make everyone else lunch. Nonetheless, she informed me with a wave of her hand (whilst still not making eye contact with me) that there were a couple of bagels left over in the kitchen and I could help myself. I went in search of them. As I cack-handedly tried carving through the now very dry bagels with a butter knife, and enquired to the office area as a whole if it was ok if I used whoever's Flora was in the fridge, I felt myself feeling even more ostracised. The meeting was continuing in the other room whilst I was being the poor relation hacking bits of bagel everywhere and trying to butter the bits that were big enough. "Why am I doing this?" I thought. Ironically, I had gone in search of the bagels in order to not make my boss look bad for excluding me, yet here I was, being excluded anyway and feeling like a fool.

As we moved through the rest of the agenda it became increasingly obvious that anything I had previously raised, including a significant idea that would tick every box of community involvement, had been 'forgotten' about in my absence, and that anything I now had to say was of no consequence. Again, any eye contact from my boss was purely accidental and quickly rectified, even when I deliberately looked at her face when I was speaking. By then, I could only focus on the sinking feeling I was having, and began an internal struggle as to whether I should continue to stick it out and just say nothing, brush it off (outwardly at least) or make my excuses and go. As it was, my emotions made a decision of sorts for me as I found myself with tears pricking at my eyes and once again excused myself from the room to hide myself in the loo for a few minutes. A colleague came out to check I was ok but we both knew I wasn't and there was nothing to say or do, except go back in. I did then sit quietly - very unlike me - and tried to feign the odd smile here and there until the meeting seemed to come to an end. Not sure whether it had actually ended or not, I asked "Is that it then?" in what I hoped what a jovial tone, and on receiving an affirmative, I made a point of reminding my colleagues as to when my last working day was, as it was only 3 and a half weeks away, and I wouldn't be at the next meeting therefore. I thought it was something that would have been mentioned by my boss, perhaps even been a final agenda item by way of prompting goodbye arrangements. One colleague had already left us by this time and I received little response from the others, except to confirm appointments we had booked where we would see each other before I left anyway, and a brief discussion as to how I would go about returning my IT equipment. My boss said nothing at all, no "Ah yes, of course" or "thanks for your help and we wish you all the best" or "are you having a leaving do?" Nothing. I felt as if I might as well have already gone, as my presence was obviously now just an inconvenience and an embarrassment. So, after brief goodbyes to the others - with again no response at all from the senior in the main office area - I grabbed my bags and walked away. I felt at that moment that I would be quite happy to never set foot in that place again or have any dealings with my boss, her boss or the company as a whole.

During my hour-and-15-minute drive back down to the coast, I surprisingly, didn't feel tearful, I didn't even really feel angry. I think I felt quite numb. I realised that I still had my formal grievance to pursue but wondered whether I would bother. Was there any point? It would mean a 2-3 hour drive up to our head office for what would at best be what, an hour long meeting to discuss what I'd already put in writing and to which, I suspected, there was already a forgone conclusion. Then another 2-3 hour drive back home. Whilst thinking, and driving, I enjoyed the fact that the sun was still shining and, according to the temperature display on my dashboard, it was a pleasantly warm day, about 15-16 degrees. I distracted myself with the thought that I'd probably get out in my little back garden when I got in: I'd feel a bit better focusing on whatever gardening or maintenance job I ended up doing for a little while.

When I got in however, I looked out at my cluttered little garden, which was now in the shade, and thought about nipping out to just tidy up a bit. Or maybe I would just suss out what needed doing to my 'project' motorbike that was now sitting on the little patio area. No, I thought, not today. I didn't want to do anything else now. I just wanted to sit down even though I'd been sitting down nearly all day. I wanted to put something familiar on the telly and not really watch it. I felt... what? Tired? No, I felt drained, like something had sucked the very life and energy out of me. I sent a couple of texts to lvoed ones to say I was home safe and put my head down on the cushions on the sofa, and sat, telly on, doing nothing, feeling nothing. Hello depression.

One: a bad day...?

A while ago now I started being a little more open about 'my condition'. To most people, I - perhaps mistakenly - like to think that I come across as a vivacious, positive person, with a strong moral compass, guided by an equally strong sense of social justice (or injustice) and the urge, above all else, to fight.

I've always been a fighter. I fight stereotypes. I fight what might be stupid battles that no one else sees the point in, but that are somehow important to me at that moment in time. And, more often than not, in one way or another, that fighting gets me into trouble. Don't get me wrong, I'm not handy with my fists - with the exception of an incident outside the maths room in the 3rd year of secondary school, sorry Lee - but, as I have recently been described by a colleague, I'm like a terrier, a Jack Russell: once I get hold of something I don't let go. I like to think that this is a positive quality, in the main, but others might see it as obsession and I am now too beginning to wonder if they are right.

I watched an episode of House earlier and the man himself turned to his boss, who was having a day much like one of mine, and said something like, "You’re putting your career on the line to try and eradicate stupidity", followed by some remark about how that in itself was incredibly stupid. It struck a chord as, anyone who has had to listen to my increasingly stressed rants recently will know, that is exactly what my fights have been about of late. Am I wrong to try and make things better? To highlight stupidity, laziness or malpractice in areas which can scarcely afford such things? Am I seeing it where others don't, and in the process making myself out to be the fool? It is certainly beginning to feel like it.

I've been told I have an "amazingly strong work ethic". I was flattered by this, but also surprised. I just call it a 'work ethic'. Whatever job we do in life, and I have done a fair old mix, shouldn't we strive to do the best we can? Don't we all hate the 'sorry, that's not my job' or 'sorry, we're closing now' mentality that we have all encountered at some point? Again don't get me wrong, I’m not saying everyone should work 24/7 or try to do things that genuinely aren't their jobs, but a little bit of helpfulness, courtesy and sign-posting doesn't go amiss. In my job, for example, I am often the only contact with 'the system' that a household may have, and I therefore see it as a vital part of my role to ensure that people who need help are at least pointed in the right direction to find it.

I digress; I did not start this post in order to have another rant about work. However, I have had a very difficult time with work recently, resulting in me - counter to my amazingly strong work ethic - taking this week off as sick. It is something that feels odd to me; although I have had to do it before on rare occasions with previous positions, but it was not something I wanted to ever have to do again. I had hoped that I had learnt how to cope with increasingly diverse pressures, and how to say no. Hmm. This time I find it's not just pressures but actual policies that I disagree with, and find that incredibly difficult. How can I work within a system that I don't agree with?

Getting back to where I started... A year or so ago I posted a picture of myself on facebook, a picture with a comment that attracted a lot of attention from friends and family, old and new. The picture was one of me on a 'bad day', showing me when I find myself disintegrating into the worthless, lethargic, sobbing mess that depression creates. I was moved by some of the responses, and that in itself resurrected some of that old fight. It's a tricky one. On the one hand, I want to be able to show that many of us do suffer with forms of depression and that we should not hide it, leaving it to fester and eat away at us. On the other hand, I don't want that label to become the centre of my life, to be the thing that people think of when they think of me, or worse, to pity me with. It IS a part of me, just as my energy and my quick-thinking and my sense of adventure is a part of me. It is not the entirety of me, but equally, it is not something I can keep hiding in plain sight.

Today I woke up depressed. I don't know why, I felt quite good yesterday. I was tired, and allowed myself to be overtaken by that tiredness and stayed safely under my duvet until gone 11am, something that I would ordinarily disapprove of. The sun was shining, and after getting up briefly for a drink and some cereal, I returned to bed but opened the curtains and looked out at the sunshine, listening to the noises of the hustle and bustle outside. I had no inclination whatsoever to go out there however, or even do anything indoors, and rather than battle with myself, reprimanding my low mood, I allowed myself to stay in bed a while longer, and listened to an audio book. I realised I was possibly going to be in trouble today: I couldn't face even getting dressed, let alone doing anything at all productive. "It's ok" I told myself, "I'm off sick for this very reason, I need to rest". However, it also occurred to me that this was part of my fight, to not let days like this be the sum total of my life. To not let my fears dictate my destiny.

I had a cry. I spent a little time in my pj's on the sofa watching the telly - hence seeing the episode of House mentioned earlier - and eventually managed to get myself together enough to do a couple of very simple tasks. It's incredibly difficult however to try and explain to someone who has never gone through this just what it is like, losing all sense of purpose or meaning, losing the ability to even get out from under the safety and warmth and ignorance of the duvet. To feel like a fraud; that everything that has ever been done or achieved was in fact stupid and futile. How can it be so difficult to get dressed? How can a simple task such as taking a package to the Post Office become such a challenge to someone who regularly presents arguments against trained solicitors and judges in Court? I don't know, and I wish I didn't need to question it. I know it's foolish, and yet I know that I will face this most incredible battle again, maybe tomorrow, maybe next week, but hopefully not for a while.