I have had this week off, and like most people I was looking forward to it immensely. I am extremely lucky because I do not hate my job, although I recognise it is frustrating, emotionally and physically draining, and stressful. (I am an A&E nurse). So although I enjoy it, it is nice to have a week off.
During this week, I have done many fun things, but now on the last evening of the week I am feeling a little out of sorts. I recall the Father Ted Christmas Special, shown in 1996 (AMAZING!!!!!), where Father Ted gets in a mood and decides to call the Priest's Chatback, a chat line for priests. When he calls, he is given the option to talk about the Pope's recent visit to Mexico, or to talk about 'being vaguely unhappy without being able to figure out exactly why'. This is how I am feeling now, except I have worked out why.
Everyone dreams about winning the lottery, or becoming so rich they would never have to work again. I, however, recognise that a life of leisure can be dangerous for those with precarious mental health. I spent the day with my dad today, he retired 2 months ago. We wandered around town in the sunshine, and he kept saying, 'This definitely beats work'. I can see where he's coming from, but then I consider the perspective of my mum, who has her very own black dog. She works in a school, and dreads the holidays as work is the only thing that keeps her going. She is of the age where she could consider retiring, but is unable to consider it as she is scared of what will happen to her mental state if she does. She first developed her depression when me and my brother were small, and she was a stay at home mum. She couldn't cope with the long, boring days when we started school.
Everybody likes time off, we all need it or our mental and physical health would surely suffer. However, I find it can be dangerous, and is best enjoyed in small doses. A bit like Krispy Kreme doughnuts. Once in a while it is fine, but a little too many and you could be well on your way to Fat hell. One of the worst episodes of depression I have had is during the winter of 2008-9 when I was still training to be a nurse. I was in my final year by that point, and nursing training isn't easy. I had to work 37 and a half hours in work placements in the hospital, and then in my spare time I had to study and do my assignments. I was poor in time and money, and very busy. Then suddenly, at the start of my final year I only had to attend uni once a week. The rest of the time I was studying at home. Within a month or so I was bawling at the GP. The change in workload was killing me, I had so much spare time suddenly and no means to enjoy it. I couldn't go out and do stuff as it was winter and I was skint, I was just stuck at home all the time.
During The Winter of Discontent (which was last winter 2010-2011) I had a very good GP, who was supporting me through the tough time. We discussed changing my medication from Paroxetine to Escitalopram. I was quite up for that, as these new fangled citaloprams are all the rage nowadays. They are supposed to be very effective and are widely used for depression now (no one takes Prozac anymore, you know). The downside of this would be that coming off Paroxetine would make me physically and mentally ill which is why it is rarely used now. My GP said it might be an idea for me to be signed off work while I made the transition between the two medications. When he said that I knew it wasn't a goer. Work was the only thing that was keeping me going. It was a distraction, and because I work with a great team of people, I could go to work and have a bit of a laugh and a chat. These were both vital in keeping my state of mind vaguely ok. I said I would think about it, and luckily I started to feel a bit better.
I recognise that there are times for us where the dog is too demanding, and work is just too much. I have previously quit jobs because I was too ill to work. You can't take your dog to work with you in most occupations, after all, and to their credit the bosses at the jobs I quit were very understanding about it. It may be different for some people, but when I'm left to my own devices, I seem to flounder a bit. I recognise that feeling vaguely unhappy today is probably because I haven't worked all week, and that after tomorrow night when I will work a shift, I will probably feel a lot better. It is a strange thing about people that we dread something and can hate it at times, but in fact it is probably what keeps us going. I am obviously generalising a bit, as there are probably people who would enjoy the life of a multi - millionaire playboy who never had to work, but strangely I don't think it is me.
No comments:
Post a Comment