Accept that your hope of being a tenured professor has reached a dead end. Overcome academe’s indoctrination process, which tells you that leaving academe means failure. There are other rewarding things you can do with your life, and you’ve got to get started somewhere. Don’t rush into another graduate program or law school. Let go of your desire for prestigious affiliations. Find a job and let the status come later. Better yet, start thinking like a free agent or an entrepreneur, since you can’t rely on any employer to survive long or to care about your prospects.
This paragraph is from the article, Dodging the Anvil in The Chronicle of Higher Education online, which basically states that humanities ABDs’ and PhDs’ (I’m assuming creative writing MFAs, since they would be applying to English departments are included) job prospects are even worse than before.
It was already bad when I graduated in 2002 and I was lucky to get the on-campus interview that I did. I think being a woman and an ethnic-American had a lot to do with it, but as the article says (and you don’t have to read it with regard to this post), I already had published work in an anthology, as well as a top-tier journal at that time so I had those going for me as well.
All this is a preface to the issue I’m dealing with right now. Some of you may or may not have noticed my sudden disappearance online, both from your blogs and on Twitter. I was blindsided Monday night by a severe depressive episode — more severe than the usual depression that’s always there, the one I struggle with day-to-day and from which I was improving. Monday night was different in that for the first time in 5 years, I had suicidal thoughts. I even considered writing a suicide note on my blog and set it to post in several days. How utterly egotistical, but in my mind, I felt it would bring closure to my blog. Um, yeah.
These were idle threats made to my husband, but the thoughts were real. My suicide attempts in the past consisted of swallowing a whole bunch of pills, except the first time, when I threatened to jump out of a second-story window. Lame. Like that would actually kill me.
Anyway, what always happens is that the ambulance comes to take me to the E.R. where I’m forced to drink activated charcoal. If you’ve ever had that experience, then you know it’s one of the most vile things you can ever consume. EVER. Silly as it may seem, that experience is what’s kept me from ODing these past 5 years, although whenever I’ve been hit with these depressive episodes, I honestly haven’t felt suicidal since 2005. I also felt like cutting, which I haven’t done in years, but as with swallowing pills, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. But oh, I wanted to badly.
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In retrospect there were triggers: a close acquaintance re-posted part of my
Disability Acceptance post on his blog. He also has bipolar but is very high-functioning as I once was. Then there was the visit to my sister’s place on Saturday for our Christmas. In the past, visits with my family have been stressful for me, but this one wasn’t. I had an
awesome time; nobody said or did anything to hurt me. But, I’ll admit, I’ve always been jealous of my sister who’s 8 years younger, and who, in my eyes, was planned and wanted. Don’t get me wrong: I am NOT blaming these people for what happened.
I’m proud of my sister — she has a successful career, a wonderful marriage, a neat condo near the Loop, and travels a lot with her husband. However, other than the wonderful marriage, which I also have, I covet these things. I covet her relationship with my parents. In fact, our mom kept calling me by my sister’s name all night, but she was also calling Brian and my brother-in-law by her name, so really, it shouldn’t have bothered me. Well, I guess it did but I just didn’t realize it at the time.
Clearly, I still haven’t accepted that someone “like me” can be on disability. I don’t want to be! I want to be high-functioning! I want to have a career! At this point, I don’t know what sort of career that would be, but I want one. Of course, it can’t be a McJob, because that would be “beneath me.” But, I still can’t be counted on to actually show up anywhere because I just don’t know how I’m going to feel from day to day — I can’t even commit to playing hockey, and that’s fun, not work!
Because of medical bills and student loans, it will be years before Brian and I will be able to buy a place of our own, but all I want is an in-unit washer and dryer — is that a lot to ask? I want to be able to do things abled people can do, like have a career, own a home, take classes in something (my sister has started knitting recently and is incredibly talented), to be high-functioning enough to do those things.
I’ve been so angry — SO angry, which is a new component of depression for me. So maybe it isn’t a depressive episode but something else. Though it’s been a few days since I’ve showered and although I’ve withdrawn from my friends online, both of which are major red flags, I’ve had the energy to get out of bed, difficult as that’s been, and yesterday, got up from my desk when it was time to leave for my therapist appointment and dressed myself. Brian worked from home and drove me. Maybe it’s the light box that’s given me this energy (I’ll have to post about that another time); I don’t know, but in the past, I wouldn’t have even been out of bed and Brian would literally have to dress me to go to this or that appointment.
When I talked to my therapist on the phone Tuesday, I promised that I wouldn’t do anything to harm myself. I DO NOT want to end up in the hospital, and I DO NOT want ECT. There were moments when I thought maybe I do need ECT right now, but that doesn’t scare me — being under anesthesia does. So does being hospitalized. After seeing my therapist yesterday, she determined that I don’t need hospitalization, let alone ECT.
I wanted to die because, even though the depression will pass like it always does, I didn’t want to suffer through another severe episode yet again. I was tired of it. I am tired of it. But I gave the therapist my word; I trust her, so it’s only fair that she should be able to trust me.
Then there’s the issue of what my death would do to Brian. I was concerned that my life insurance wouldn’t pay if I committed suicide and didn’t want to leave him in the lurch. Callous, I know, especially because he was incredibly upset at the prospect of losing me. My therapist confirmed that it was the depression talking when I told him that he could always find someone else, someone better and because of that, it didn’t seem fair that I had to suffer. Irrational, I know.
And today, a former classmate posted the article above on Facebook, which helped put some things in perspective. As in, even if I suddenly became high-functioning again and could hold down a job, the prospects of a career in academia are pretty frickin’ slim. But I think what has begun to help me realize that, just because I can’t work and am on disability doesn’t mean I’m a big loser, is this: “Overcome academe’s indoctrination process, which tells you that leaving academe means failure.”
I’m so sorry you went through this {{{{hugs}}} I’m glad you didn’t follow through.
Sheri´s last blog ..Thriving – Not So Much
Thanks, Sheri, I am, too. No matter what, I don’t think I could have done it, anyway; I’m too chicken. I’m just thankful there are no guns in our home because that would make it so easy, and I assured my therapist that I wasn’t planning to go out and try to buy one. Besides, I wouldn’t have been able to try that Key Lime cupcake I had yesterday.
fwiw, i don’t think your a big loser….
i’m sorry that you’re going thru a tough patch right now… if i can do anything to help, let me know… and i can teach you to knit a scarf anytime! knitting (or anything creative) always gets my mind off the stuff that potentially ruins a day…
*big hugs*
That’s just it — I need more activit(ies) to take up part of my day, and I don’t mean playing Mafia Wars. I may just take you up on your offer. It would be fun shopping for yarn together, and I’d be forced to drive, which is a good thing.
Honey, every day that you get out of bed and pour yourself a cup of coffee, you get one more tick in the “win” column.
Let me know if there’s anything I can do from this end to help, okay?
Well, I’ve been doing that, at least — getting out of bed and pouring myself coffee. Thank you for pointing out that that seemingly trivial act, and to some it is indeed trivial, is for me, a step forward.
Having the fact that sometimes just getting been there myself, I can attest to the fact that some days getting out of bed is a monumental achievement.
Big hugs, honey!
Omnibus Driver´s last blog ..Driving Distracted
Okay. Let’s try that again once again, and in ENGLISH this time: Having been there myself, I can attest to the fact that some days getting out of bed is a monumental achievement.
Yeesh. My laptop keyboard has flat keys, and sometimes my typing on it gets a little schizophrenic…
Omnibus Driver´s last blog ..Driving Distracted
Yeah, getting out of bed sometimes is like trying to move a sack of rocks. I’ve been doing pretty good, fighting the urge to just stay in bed, though.
Barb, it was *very* brave of you to post this. It might sound funny, but I am really proud of you.
You’re stronger than you know, and you’ll come out the other side of this. In the meantime, count on me for anything.
All my best,
Mark
Thanks, Mark. This might sound cheesy, but it makes me feel good that you’re proud because I just realized that of all the profs I had, you’re the one who has made, and continues to make the most impact in my life, the prof from whom I find inspiration. No pressure, right?
Anyway, I find this funny because I wasn’t even in the history program! Maybe I was in the wrong department. 
Then again, history is part of the humanities….
Hey Barb,
I am so glad you are doing your best to work through your depression. It is so hard to do especially when the thoughts of suicide are blazing.
I always remember the shame of those charcoal treatments. On many occasion I would apologize. To who I don’t know. I just know I always felt like I was putting them out unnecessarily.
You keep fighting the urges to to hurt yourself. You can do it. Do whatever it takes to stay safe. Your in my thoughts Barb.
crazybeanrider´s last blog ..In The Face Of Togetherness
Thanks for the faith, Boo. It’s really weird because whenever I’ve been this depressed, I’ve never felt equally angry. You know what they say: depression is anger turned inward. But this time, it burst through the dam, so to speak. I was so hell-bent on not wanting to go through another depression — well, who does? I’m calmer now, but no less depressed. On the bright side, I’m able to get out of bed.
As for the charcoal, I found it humiliating. I know the nurses and whatnot are trying to be nice, but to me they always come off as condescending. Of course, that could be the skewed depression perspective, but the entire experience is still humiliating.
i’m going to email you because i have a lot to say and it would probably take up way too much room.
okay. i sent an email, but before i sent it, i copied it so i could paste it and re-read it but when i pasted it, it pasted a strange link so, did it go through as the email i typed or as a link?
I did get your e-mail, thanks. I’ll write you back.
Speaking as one to another – when you’re feeling like this, staying alive, and unharmed, for the whole day is a massive achievement. Well done.
We know these dips in mood always pass – always. Keep that in mind, and hang in there.
Michelle
Michelle´s last blog ..For the animal lovers, a heart-melting moment
Thanks, Michelle. It’s so hard to remember that in the moment. I’m glad I got through it and now I’m working on not falling deeper into the hole while this passes.
I have been tied up with so many post holiday issues and a death in the family… but I am so glad that you are still her on the other side of all of this! Wishing you daily what you need to move forward!
Wes´s last blog ..Weed Makes Mental Illness Worse?
Thank you, Wes. I’m hanging in there; it’s tough, but I am.
I noticed you weren’t around as much and missed you. I’m sorry for all of that and I’m glad you are feeling better and made it through. I have been having similar thoughts, not actually doing anything but the constant thought that I don’t want to be me or me in this world, that it all sucks. Email me if you ever need to.
Robin´s last blog ..Adam
Those constant thoughts of wanting to be someone other than myself or a different me or hell — not even existing — are all too familiar. Not things that are constantly on my mind but linger beneath the surface. You know you can e-mail me, too.
Thank you for not going through with anything that would leave us without you. Thank you for going to see your therapist. Thank you for talking to Brian about your fears. Thank you for posting this.
Thanks, Megan. Comments like yours give me hope that I don’t scare all of my friends, online or offline, away with them thinking I’m a freak (because it’s happened), but more importantly, that more and more people understand this is a disease.
You cannot control THAT you have this disease. You CAN control how you choose to deal with it. And from what you write, you are well aware of that distinction and are making the choices that will move you toward a life with fewer symptoms of disease. If that makes sense…
Yes. That is exactly true. I have made a commitment to manage the parts of the disease I can control. Sleep hygiene’s always been kind of a problem and not something I can control, but I’m doing my best to do the things I can control with regard to that. You totally make sense.