My Journey into and out of Depression: A Work in Progress

I never thought I’d miss the office, until I did…

The daily rush… Waking up, getting fed (and feeding others), walking the dog, showering, dressing, leaving the house, daycare drop off, commuting to the city and jostling for a car space, grabbing a mediocre coffee from the lobby before stumbling — already exhausted from the morning hustle — to my desk.

That was a standard work-day morning for circa six years.

Image courtesy of Vecteezy.com

There I would stay for eight hours doing what I was paid to do (a job I enjoy), yet constantly and consistently interrupted and entertained by the antics around me. A colleague recounting a funny experience over the weekend; popping out for a coffee meeting or a ‘working lunch’; running from meeting to meeting and bumping into friends and colleagues in the hallways and kitchen in between; grabbing a drink after work.

It was ‘busy’. It was ‘hectic’. It was often ‘chaotic’. And I wanted life to slow down a little. I didn’t want to have to rush so much or have to plan 10 steps ahead to make sure I had something in the fridge to prepare for dinner that night. As a single parent, you’re often planning 20 steps ahead anyway!

• “I’m far more productive when I work from home,” was my war cry.
• “I don’t need to waste hours in traffic going to and from the office — that’s time I can use to get my work done.”
• “Not travelling to the city means I have more time at the start and the end of the day to do things for me and my son.”

Those are all very pragmatic statements. And they rang true for a very long time — when I had the wonderful balance of three days in the office, one from home and one day off each week.

And then along came 2020…

• My son started school
• We moved house
• I was made redundant from a job I loved
• A global pandemic hit
• I started my own business
• I joined a new company and went back to working full time
• I was cut off from my family interstate.

I was working in a new job, in a new house, where three mornings a week (usually my busy businesswoman city days when my son is at his Dad’s house) I was waking up in an empty house, working in an empty house and going to bed, again, in an empty house.

At first it was liberating. I had so much free time. I could go for a walk to the beach in the morning and in the afternoon from 5pm I was free to do whatever I wanted. (Except, of course, for much of the year we were in lockdown or it was impossible to even go out to dinner or a movie with a friend).

Before long, it wasn’t liberating anymore. It became like ‘groundhog day’. And although I was getting out, going to the gym, working often from cafes to get some social interaction — I was losing my sparkle.

I was becoming un-motivated, sad, and eventually, depressed. I had so much time to sit and think that I began ruminating over things beyond my control. Revisiting old wounds, digging up decisions from the past and getting stuck in a game of regret roulette.

I was missing my son desperately when he was away as he had become my main social network and I was feeling his absence more keenly that I had when the office was there to keep me busy on my non-parenting days. As my ex-husband so eloquently — and insensitively! — put it, I had made my son my “emotional handbag”!

I was in a downward spiral and it was not pretty. The cracks were starting to become caverns.

And then Christmas was upon us. That magical time of the year when we get to see and reconnect with our nearest and dearest. Christmas would fix everything! Then COVID reared its ugly head again, borders were slammed shut and we were placed into lockdown over Christmas and New Year. The thought of seeing my family had got me through the stress and isolation of the previous few months, and I was left devastated and scrambling to figure out how I would make it through the ‘festive season’ alone.

Christmas was the straw that broke this camel’s back.

The sadness of handing my son over to his Dad halfway through Christmas Day culminated with me on the phone to Lifeline, unable to navigate a way out of the pit of depression I’d fallen into. It was a really hard few days as I tried to steady myself, pull in support from friends, and going to see my doctor who didn’t hesitate to offer me a little medicinal support while I got back on my feet. (Some people are not willing to try medication, and that is everybody’s choice. But for me, it helped and I feel no embarrassment in admitting that I needed a little chemical leg up out of the abyss).

It’s like the frog in the pot analogy. You don’t realise the water is getting gradually warmer and warmer. The small, seemingly incidental shifts in temperature don’t really register in isolation. But combined, they create a bubbling pot. And before long, you’re boiled.

I fear the effects of this pandemic — specifically people being cut off from their social networks (be it family, friends or work colleagues) — will have a far higher cost than the immediate death toll or economic impacts. Especially for those who are unable to find the help they need when they need it.

Humans are social creatures — we’re not supposed to be alone. And there is no shame in that. I’m never happier than when I’m surrounded by my friends or my family. Sitting around a firepit, nursing a glass of wine with my two brothers and recounting hilarious stories from our childhood. That’s the stuff that makes life worth living. And that’s the stuff you have to hold onto — and try to rekindle in some little way — when the world turns dark.

So what am I doing bring back the sparkle?

• I’ve made the commitment to go back into the office two days a week (those days when my son is with his Dad). It gives me purpose, structure, routine and social interaction with colleagues. Plus, I have a heap of audiobooks I’m looking forward to listening to during my commute!
• I’m socialising and making plans with friends whenever I can — even just a quick coffee and a chat is enough to give me a little mood boost.
• I talk — a lot! I reach out to people when I’m feeling blue. My brothers, my friends, my amazing neighbours who were there at Christmas to console me when my family were unable to get to me and my son was with his Dad. Family are not always born to you, but are also the people you choose to invite into your life.
• I blog — it’s cathartic and allows me to get my feelings out of my head and into the world. It can be scary, but if my words help someone else, then that’s reason enough to do it.
• Knowledge is power, so I’m reading about the science of sadness and how the brain works, so I can understand the right strategies for me and have a plan for when the dark clouds return (because they probably will from time-to-time). I’m also doing this great free course on The Science of Wellbeing from Yale. It talks about the things we think will make us happy, and the things that actually do. It’s brilliant and I highly recommend.
• I wrote a list of the small things I can do each day to bring me a little joy. Simple habits and actions like a morning coffee, walking the dog, a swim in the ocean, calling a friend.
• On the nights my son is away I make plans to keep me busy. I’ve tried adult swim classes at the local pool, I hit the gym or have a drink with a friend.
• I started a gratitude journal — I just use the notes app on my phone. I have reminders set three times a day to make me pause what I’m doing and think of something in that moment I’m grateful for. It’s a great tool in pulling yourself out of self-indulgent naval gazing to think about all the ways in which you are fortunate.
• I’m researching and fueling myself with foods that aid in managing anxiety. The good news is, chocolate is on the list. The bad news is, I need to get past my aversion to tomatoes!
• I’m doing things for others. This is something that has always bought me joy and something I’m committed to doing more frequently.
• I’m planning mini breaks with my son. Due to shared custody, I may not have all my time with him, but I can make the time we have together really special. Even if it’s just a date night to the local Thai restaurant, or dressing up in our superhero costumes to get the groceries. I’m committed to making our time together fun and memorable.
• I’m getting professional help through a therapist to help with some CBT techniques. These pull me out of unhelpful thought patterns when they start and before they spiral.
• I’m finally committing to trying mindfulness and meditation! I’ve never been ‘very good’ at meditation — whatever that means. But when I was born I wasn’t good at walking or talking either, so I guess I’m capable of learning if I put my mind to it (pun intended).

Clearly I don’t do all of these things every day — and all of this is still very much a work in progress. But these actions and behaviours make up my toolkit for dealing with the dark days.

Because for me, failing to plan in a little happiness is planning to fail.