The original title of this post was "Time to Depart?", but when you suffer from depression and your friends know it, you should probably not create posts with names like that, nor go on Facebook and post enigmatic-sounding depressed posts which cause people to run around worrying, texting you and leaving messages of support and pleas to know if you're alright.
The inspiration for it was the uniquely nasty experience of sitting in The Big Meeting About The Future Of The Team, AKA The Redundancies, reading the proposal for the team you work in and thinking "Actually, this doesn't sound too bad, I could get on board with this" and finding, hidden away in the middle, the sentence which indicates that the thing you do, the particular thing you've spent ten years doing and studied hard to learn how to do? Your team won't be doing that any more.
That doesn't mean I'm fired. There will be jobs, and I could probably apply for one and get it, or at least stand as good a chance as anyone else of getting it. The question for me, as for everyone else, is whether I actually want to do it. There's not really an easy answer to that one.
When you're depressed, you have the little voice whispering in your head youareastupiduselessuglycunt or Thereisnohopenotformenotforyounotforanyone. Sometimes there's another voice, suggesting something like Did you ever want to take a hammer to your life, smash it up, throw the pieces in the air and see what pattern they made when they landed? If you went somewhere else, somewhere without all the scars of the past places where you've let people down, failed and disappointed them, somewhere no-one knew you or had any expectations of you, would you be happier?
The truth is, I have no idea, and now is a bad time to decide. So I will do what needs doing, I will complete what I have committed to between now and September, and the decision will form itself in my head. I'll still be here.
August 2022's Lonks
2 weeks ago