Jericho: Dead Tired
Max has put up 17 or so posts since I last posted. The last time I published a post was over two months ago. The last post I wrote is still in draft form on Blogger. It will never be published and I'm half a heartbeat away from deleting the draft. Max did some sneaker-publishing by showing my draft to Laura. They both told me to get therapy after reading it. They are convinced I'm depressed.
I have some good reasons to be depressed. For example, my friends telling me to get therapy after I bitched about my life on a blog dedicated to bitching about one's life. Or, I could be depressed imagining the shit storm of comments this post is going to generate. However, all that pales in comparison to the thing that is depressing me the most - my job.
As I've gotten older, I have gotten more tolerant of the jobs I have worked. When I was young, I'd drop a job at the first sign of anything bad. I didn't get the idea that all jobs suck. You are being paid to do something that someone else didn't want to do. Internships are given out because those jobs are so cool, people will do them for free or a reduced salary. Normal jobs just suck. I passed up what could have been a great opportunity once because I didn't get this point. Too bad.
Since I've been in Seattle, I've held onto jobs far longer than I did growing up. Two years, three years, etc. Usually, about two months in, the job begins to bug me and I'm ready to go by ten months. I'd hang on long enough so that the job was worse than looking for a job - which I really hate. Then, off I'd go. Or, they would just fire me.
My current job is a record breaker. I didn't start getting bugged by the job until about three years in. At the four year mark, I was getting uncomfortable. In January, I had been here as a full time employee for five years.
About a year ago, someone took a serious dump on my department and the stench hasn't let up since. Suddenly, everything sucked. I was under the impression my job was on the way out. This was such a shock to Steph and I, we were looking to drop everything and move in with Steph's folks in Maine just to survive. Then, we weren't being shipped out, in fact, they really needed us. This was merely the first bump on the roller coaster. A year later, the ride is still going.
Earlier this year I tried to find another job. I had an early lead that looked really good - REALLY good. It was too good to be true and I didn't get the job even after three interviews. That kinda broke my spirit. I stopped looking after that. Replacing this job with another job just like it and being right back here in another five years just doesn't appeal.
From there, just to reinforce the message, my job got worse. The pressure increased. The hours have vastly increased. I am right now working on no less than four major projects. All of these projects have a near term dead line, they are all the highest priority, they all need to be perfect and they all seem to never end. It's possible by the end of July this pace might slacken, but who knows? We've managed to not implode up to this point, maybe they'll increase the load.
Thus, I have been mentally and physically exhausted for about three months. I managed to throw in about six days of vacation in there. Felt great. We had a great time in Canada. Two days after I got back to work I was right back to feeling like crap. Heck, I worked so hard the first day back, I might as well not taken time off. Taking time off from this job has always meant coming back to a pile of work equal to the time I was away - and now it's late! It's almost pointless to take a vacation.
So, am I depressed? You bet. So are people in Gitmo. So are people with mesothelioma. My depression has a cause. Is my brain affected, oh yeah. I'm tired all the time. Working until midnight and getting to bed around 2 only to have to get up at 7:30 night after night will do that. Don't ask me to do math - I haven't been able to do simple math for three weeks. I can't remember numbers or dates at all - not that I was great at this before, but my stressed brain is even worse at it.
There are a couple of solutions to this problem. None of them are fun. The easiest one is to just hang in and chant: "What doesn't kill me, makes me stronger. When I'm stronger, all these assholes are in trouble!"
I have some good reasons to be depressed. For example, my friends telling me to get therapy after I bitched about my life on a blog dedicated to bitching about one's life. Or, I could be depressed imagining the shit storm of comments this post is going to generate. However, all that pales in comparison to the thing that is depressing me the most - my job.
As I've gotten older, I have gotten more tolerant of the jobs I have worked. When I was young, I'd drop a job at the first sign of anything bad. I didn't get the idea that all jobs suck. You are being paid to do something that someone else didn't want to do. Internships are given out because those jobs are so cool, people will do them for free or a reduced salary. Normal jobs just suck. I passed up what could have been a great opportunity once because I didn't get this point. Too bad.
Since I've been in Seattle, I've held onto jobs far longer than I did growing up. Two years, three years, etc. Usually, about two months in, the job begins to bug me and I'm ready to go by ten months. I'd hang on long enough so that the job was worse than looking for a job - which I really hate. Then, off I'd go. Or, they would just fire me.
My current job is a record breaker. I didn't start getting bugged by the job until about three years in. At the four year mark, I was getting uncomfortable. In January, I had been here as a full time employee for five years.
About a year ago, someone took a serious dump on my department and the stench hasn't let up since. Suddenly, everything sucked. I was under the impression my job was on the way out. This was such a shock to Steph and I, we were looking to drop everything and move in with Steph's folks in Maine just to survive. Then, we weren't being shipped out, in fact, they really needed us. This was merely the first bump on the roller coaster. A year later, the ride is still going.
Earlier this year I tried to find another job. I had an early lead that looked really good - REALLY good. It was too good to be true and I didn't get the job even after three interviews. That kinda broke my spirit. I stopped looking after that. Replacing this job with another job just like it and being right back here in another five years just doesn't appeal.
From there, just to reinforce the message, my job got worse. The pressure increased. The hours have vastly increased. I am right now working on no less than four major projects. All of these projects have a near term dead line, they are all the highest priority, they all need to be perfect and they all seem to never end. It's possible by the end of July this pace might slacken, but who knows? We've managed to not implode up to this point, maybe they'll increase the load.
Thus, I have been mentally and physically exhausted for about three months. I managed to throw in about six days of vacation in there. Felt great. We had a great time in Canada. Two days after I got back to work I was right back to feeling like crap. Heck, I worked so hard the first day back, I might as well not taken time off. Taking time off from this job has always meant coming back to a pile of work equal to the time I was away - and now it's late! It's almost pointless to take a vacation.
So, am I depressed? You bet. So are people in Gitmo. So are people with mesothelioma. My depression has a cause. Is my brain affected, oh yeah. I'm tired all the time. Working until midnight and getting to bed around 2 only to have to get up at 7:30 night after night will do that. Don't ask me to do math - I haven't been able to do simple math for three weeks. I can't remember numbers or dates at all - not that I was great at this before, but my stressed brain is even worse at it.
There are a couple of solutions to this problem. None of them are fun. The easiest one is to just hang in and chant: "What doesn't kill me, makes me stronger. When I'm stronger, all these assholes are in trouble!"
posted by Jericho Brown at 6/14/2006 05:04:00 PM
14 Comments:
Dude... you don't understand what depression really is, do you? It's not that you're depressed by nothing. EVERYONE that's depressed says they have a reason. (Max hates his job, I can't even find one.) The problem with depression is how it affects the rest of your life. You don't want to do anything that used to be fun to you. You have troubles remembering things. You just want to sleep all the time or have insomnia. You eat comfort foods far more often and gain weight or sometimes loose weight from not eating enough.
The drugs don't make the shitty stuff seem happy. They just make the things that you used to like seem fun again. It makes everything else normal again. A pill can't make a shitty job go away, but it can make your life come back.
But if you don't want to even bother being evaluated by a professional, than whatever. It's not like you HAVE to take pills if the doctor thinks you have clinical depression. It's not like you make a commitment to take pills just for seeing a professional. And there are other ways to help depression that don't include pills.
And besides, if you were puking, had 102 degree temp and chills, wouldn't you go see a doctor? You'd want to know what you can do to releave the symptoms of your illness, wouldn't you? You'd want a professional's advice on your health. Seeing a pysocoligist is exactly the same.
You knew it was coming, so no need to be upset by it, ok? :-) I just worry about you like I worry about all my friends.
Try this.
A few weeks ago we fucked up our network, killed service to thousands and crashed a mission critical server. This was called an upgrade.
They undid ugrade immediately.
This past week they did it again, with the same results, except that it did not get undid.
We have been shit deep ever since. People are waiting longer and longer to get through to us to get fixed the service we "upgraded".
And today I got chewed out for not taking long enough on my calls.
Right. I think I want out of the IT game. I think I want to do something where I get some respect. I could be a tabloid reporter or crack whore.
If you're a nickle crack whore, I'll be your first customer. ;)
BTW- someone change that link to my old livejournal blog, ok? I'm at myspace, now!
Better yet, just take me off it all together. :D
For example, my friends telling me to get therapy after I bitched about my life on a blog dedicated to bitching about one's life.
I've found that if people bitch about the same thing over and over for long enough to their friends and loved ones but don't actually do anything about it, the people being bitched at tend to feel that they're in over their heads and start hinting that either severe change or calling in a professional to take the brunt of the bitching would be a good idea.
It's one thing to listen to someone you care about vent, but it's another to quietly suffer through them going in the same circles over and over. Not everyone is trained to tolerate being flooded with such a situation: mental health care professionals generally are.
I agree with Byrdie. At the least, Jer, you could mabe see a psycologist... the one that doesn't perscribe drugs. He/she can tell you if you need further treatments. And it's nice to just vent about everyone and everything to someone you know won't tell anyone else about it. It's therapy!
I would just like to say that I appreciate everyone's concern for Jer's well being. However, we have berating him about his mental wellbeing for a while now. He is a smart boy and I know he understands what we are saying, but it is his call what he does from here.
I just hope he doesn't share my penchant for doing the exact opposite of what I'm told is good for me. All that has gotten me is unemployed and ill-used and ill-paid when employed.
Jericho, I would like to remind you that you're the one one who invited me to comment on your journal, adding that "I wish somebody would."
I did. So there. =P
You see, I love it when everyone comments, gets involved. I live for this shit.
This blog is my therapy. You people are my psychologist. IWDC is my anti-drug. :)
Not saying I won't seek other therapy. When everyone of one's friends tells one to go get help - it gives one pause to consider one's options.
Anyone else notice that the only other of our regular readers who didn't chime in and say I need therapy was my wife? Interesting ...
On a related note, work has slacked a little. I'm not ready to rip my eye balls out and I've had several days of actual sleep. Although, my sinuses acted up so violently I took two days off work. I'm not the only one with allergy issues - the shelf at my local drug store was nearly empty of my favorite drugs today. I'm using a generic copy of a drug I've not used before - seems to be doing the trick.
Your wife, like mine, lives to keep her hubby miserable. It's how they control us. "Honey, you can get a new bass/amp if you just..." Then, "I know I said you could but we really should wait, you can get it after..." And so forth.
In your case, just replace "bass/amp" with "sanity".
The opinions expressed by Max are not necessarily the opinions of Stephanie's husband. For a transcript of Jericho's apology to his wife, send a self addressed, stamped email to the address below. God bless.
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