How I Lost My Job, My Shit, My Sense of Self, and Almost my Mind…But Still Not the Baby Weight

I am depressed.

Sorry, let me say it a little louder for the people in the cheap seats.
I AM DEPRESSED.

I get out of bed every day. I manage to shower a few times a week (even if I only wash my hair like twice). I go to work. I take my son to school. I laugh at your jokes. I show up. I take my son to jiu jitsu. I create in the cracks of some days. I participate in all the things I am expected to. I keep appointments, I keep notes, I pay bills, I fulfill obligations.

That does not change the fact that I am depressed.
I may not be at my lowest.
I may not look like I am experiencing depression.
I may tell you I am living the dream.
I may smile half heartedly.
I may encourage your child if they are new to Bobby’s class.
I may encourage you.
I may remind people to be kind.
I may remind people to support one another.

None of that changes the fact that I have felt like I am drowning for months.
None of that changes the fact that some days it literally has felt like I am standing in the middle of a crowded room screaming at the top of my lungs, and no one hears me.

Surely, you can’t be serious, you’re thinking. Surely, people have noticed. Surely, people have stepped in. Surely, there has been some sort of change. Surely, someone would have intervened by now.

If you have never heard of what is commonly called the “bystander effect”, I can give you a moment to google it now. I can wait another few minutes. I’ll still be here while you take a step away and open another tab. I promise, I’m not going anywhere. If I’m still here all these months later, no one is getting rid of me that easy, friend.

Back with me? Makes a little sense, doesn’t it?
It can be applied to a lot of things. But this one…this goes deeper than the assumption that someone else will do something. But we’ll get into that.

A while back, I posted a comedic piece on my birthday. I promised you this one there. I promised to explain why my thirty first year on Earth wasn’t my best. I promised to tell you the truth. My part of it, anyway. So that’s what you’re here for. That’s what this is. And I’ll be real with you. It isn’t pretty. It’s funny in ways you wouldn’t expect it to be, but you are not going to come out of it the way you went into it. I am not going to pull any punches. I am going to keep it really real, as per usual. And if you’re not into that, well, this is your chance to get the fuck out of dodge and go look at some funny memes to drag yourself out of the darkness I tried to send you into. I won’t take it personally, I promise.

Happy trails to you, my friend.

If you’re still with me, buckle up, buckle down, and grab a beverage.

Part Number the First: How I Lost My Job

I have been employed steadily in many different jobs since I was basically twelve years old. I have babysat, I have worked at McDonald’s, I have waited tables, I have tended bars, I have made coffee, I have blown up balloons, I have made pizzas, I have sold books. I have done so many things that even I sometimes lose track. One thing I had never done before this year?

I had one hundred percent honestly never been fired from a job.

That changed this year.
I was not ready for it. I was not expecting it. I showed up to work my shift, and I was blindsided.
I sat in my car for a while afterwards, and I cried. I didn’t have any savings. I wasn’t paying my bills adequately as it was. I had just stopped working my second job because I was trying to focus a little bit on my business and see where it could take me. My boss there had already hired two wonderfully nice girls to replace me, and I couldn’t very well take back leaving and screw other people over. You may not believe this, but that’s not who I am.

I sat in my car, and I cried. I didn’t know who to call, I didn’t know what to do but cry.

I felt nothing but sorry for myself.
When I got home, I cried some more. Then the sky opened up and it was like Mother Nature wanted to have a good cry with me. It poured, and I sat on my porch and I drank some wine and I cried. I cried and I cried, and I felt sorry for myself, and it went this way for a little while. Then I got angry, then I got busy trying to find a job. I had nothing to fall back on, I was embarrassed, and I couldn’t think of anything but “god damn I need to pay my bills”. The asshole that fired me had promised if I needed help finding something that he would be sure to give me a good reference, because his “hands were tied” and it had been the decision of the owners. Cool.

SPOILER ALERT: HE DIDN’T.
He cost me two jobs with a bad reference.

To be perfectly clear…I am no longer bitter about that, cause he got fired from there recently anyway. I always knew karma was a bigger bitch than me.

So I kept going on interviews and I kept feeling sorry for myself, and then I interviewed at an old manager’s new place and he hired me on the spot. He reminded me of my worth, and I will always appreciate that leg up. It is definitely about who you know in the world, folks. Just a reminder.

Here’s the kicker though. Before I could start my new job, my car died. The universe was coming at me from all different angles, trying to fuck me sideways, backwards, and upside down, and daring me to keep getting back up.

The universe didn’t know who the fuck she was messing with.
She pushed me down nine times. I got up twelve.

Long story short, I worked that job for a while. Money is a bitch, single parenthood is hard af, and student loans are the devil, so I ended up needing a second job. For a while I worked both at the restaurant and overnights at an incredibly large online retailer, until it became impossible, and I had to make the best decision for myself, which was to hang up my apron for good and choose the steady paycheck. I’ve lived to regret that choice in a lot of ways, but that’s a horse of an entirely different color.

The takeaway here is this: I didn’t tell people these things. The minute most of this happened, I shot my walls back up. It is my instinct to keep people out. This comes from years and years of needing to as a way to survive. So no one knew. I was struggling behind the scenes of my life, but I was pretending I wasn’t.

THESE WERE THE FIRST CRACKS.

Part Le Deux: The Story of My Second Nervous Breakdown, and how I Absolutely Lost my Shit Behind the Scenes

We’re going to dial it back here for a minute.
This is the part where we address that ugly word that I brought up right away.

DEPRESSION.
You have an idea of what it looks like. To most people, it may look like someone who can’t get up out of bed. Who can’t eat. Who can’t participate in life. Who just…won’t allow themselves to be happy. You have an idea that it is a choice. You may even think that the way in which you become depressed looks even remotely similar for everyone.

But I’m here to tell you…YOU ARE WRONG.

Depression is different for everyone.
For me, depression didn’t mean I lost a bunch of weight. In fact, depression has led me to be the heaviest I have been in years. Depression has led me to poor food choices, to disregard of my own health. Depression has led me to forget my self care routines.

For me, depression has meant crying in the shower, because I refuse to let my son see what is going on inside of me. For me, depression has meant having to turn off the parts of my brain I don’t like. For me, depression has meant withdrawing from people without them noticing. Forgetting to answer. Forgetting to acknowledge them. Depression has meant a whole lot of things, but they are not all what you expect.

Because, throughout my depression, I have still managed kindnesses for others.
I have still fulfilled obligations.
I have managed drop off and pick up five days a week, even delirious after twelve hour shifts.
I have managed to work full time and then some, some weeks working fifty plus hours.
I have kept the laundry maintained.
I have never forgotten trash day, or what day the washing machine needs its cleaning cycle run.
I have kept creating and maintaining deadlines.
I have had conversations.
I have heard my friends vent.
I have counseled people through rough times in their own lives.

I have done all of this while waiting for someone to take notice of what I have been doing to myself.

And until I really admitted it to myself, I could not vocalize it to anyone else. But that’s not even the sad part of this story.

Because, you see, I asked for help.

DRINK THAT IN.

I actually can tell you about how many times I asked people for help. I asked for help with the mundane things, I asked for a leg up. I asked for a share of my work. I asked for a babysitter. I asked for a coffee date. I asked for an ear. I asked for a shoulder. I asked for a hug.

I stood in front of people in my life and I PHYSICALLY FUCKING SAID IT OUT LOUD.
I told people when they asked how I was the truth.
I told them I felt like I was drowning.
I told them I felt overwhelmed.
I told them I felt sad.
I told them I was having trouble with the changes in my life.
I told them I needed a day off.
I told them I needed space.

…half the time, they changed the subject.

But. Let’s be absolutely fucking clear about one thing here:
I am not telling you this because I want your pity. Nor do I need your help now.
I do not need to be lifted.

I am telling you this because at my most vulnerable, no one knew how to help me.
Even when I explained what they could do and vocalized what I needed, it was uncomfortable. So they ignored it. Things got ugly and things made them feel bad because the fix wasn’t easy, so they ignored my words, they ignored my questions. They ignored me. They ignored me, and came with half-hearted apologies months later when I admitted to social media that I was depressed, even if I was pretending that I wasn’t.

And this, this is the part where I tell all those people they can go directly the fuck to hell.
They can one hundred percent fuck entirely off.

If you are one of them and you happen to be reading this, I do absolutely mean you. I may hide it well, but resentment runs deep in this Capricorn heart. With the help of some incredible people and my own wherewithal, I pulled myself out of my lowest low, and I made it through the worst of that storm, but I can not suffer and tolerate any longer people who will watch another human being struggle, listen to them beg for relief, and then complain about petty problems and change the subject.

So to all of you rotten, fake friends, I SAY BYE FELICIA AND HAVE A NICE DAY.

Now, you may be thinking, but didn’t you start this post off telling us you were depressed??!

I sure the fuck did.
Here’s the truth folks: depression never just disappears.
The pervasive problems that landed me where I am still exist, and there are some new ones popping up every single day. I am a better version of myself every day, but I sometimes still feel low. I sometimes cry in the shower, or in my car. I tell people I am “living the dream” because “I have horrible anxiety today and it feels like the world is crushing me from every angle, and I just want to cry” doesn’t read so well, and it makes shit awkward. I overeat some days, and I am kind to my body on others. I still don’t have the motivation to work out, but I am taking less naps. I am creating more, and I am learning more, and I am working more. I am working my hardest, but there are just some corners of my sadness that can not be rectified on my own.

Some of them I have discussed openly here, some of them I haven’t.
I live every single day with traumas I have to heal from because I never tackled them fearlessly or honestly. I live with resentment for the father of my child daily, as I try to make ends meet and save money to make things like McDonald’s Monday and dollar store treats happen. I feel pathetic almost constantly, but I am letting myself feel things again. I am not shutting off the feelings for fear they will crush me.

I am here, and I am fighting the good fight.
I am here, and I am not fucking going anywhere.

….you didn’t actually think I would be that easy to get rid of, did you?

Part In Triplicate: The Part Where I (Finally) Wrap this Up

If you’re still reading this, you’re probably wondering when the fuck I will shut up.
Don’t worry, because we’re almost there. You’re almost free. I just have a couple maybe semi useful things to say in conclusion and in thanks.

While the universe has been testing me this past year, I have learned a lot both about life, and about myself. I have learned what I can handle. I have learned my shortcomings. I have learned who my friends truly are. I have learned who I can count on. I have learned what gratitude truly is, and I have learned how to let myself be human without thinking it makes me fragile. I owe a lot of these things to my own fortitude, but there are just as many that I owe to a small select few individuals. None of them did it for the pomp and circumstance, so I will just say simply: thank you.

Thank you for the phone calls.
Thank you for checking on me.
Thank you for the long conversations via text.
Thank you for your belief in me.
Thank you for remembering important events.
Thank you for listening.
Thank you for bringing me back to myself.

I owe you my life.

I have also learned a lot about my potential. And while it may be almost March (CRAZY, because it felt like January was 570 years long), you better believe I have big plans for the rest of this year and beyond.

Don’t blink.
You might miss it.

Over and out,
Love and poison kisses,

Rachface
XO