|raisedbymoogles (raisedbymoogles) wrote,|
@ 2010-12-07 21:41:00
|Current music:||Dirty Jobs|
|Entry tags:||aminals, mental health, real life, work|
TL;DR: It's been a Day.
So for those of you just tuning in: I have clinical depression. Sometimes I also have bad days. The two may or may not be related, but they sure tend to feed on each other.
I get these... I hesitate to call them attacks, because I associate those with things like not being able to breathe. Let's say I get moments. Moments where all the depression-things I put aside so I can function just reach critical mass and overwhelm me, and all I want to do is curl up and whimper for a while. They usually happen late Sunday evening or so, which is actually quite nice because I have the luxury of going ahead and feeling it.
You can't really do that in the middle of work, as I ran face-first into today.
I've whined about this before, so to sum up - I'm having trouble adjusting to the rigors and responsibilities of my new job, and I really really hate being 'in training.' After my second time squirting vaccine all over myself and having to be Told Things that made me feel stupid... well, little things, but an avalanche is made of snowflakes. I had a Moment that made me feel stupid for worrying that I'm not depressed enough to deserve the pills, right there in the appointment room. I don't think anybody noticed. Fortunately soon after I got to go home and take a brief nap and rebuild my Monster Containment Facility, so that was more or less okay.
That was my morning. This evening, I had my first PTS. (That's 'put to sleep.')
Dog comes in, her owner's worried that she seems lethargic. Doctor feels a mass in her abdomen and orders an X-ray and bloodwork. After that there were a lot of acronyms and medical terms that I did not understand, but basically the dog's kidneys and possibly her spleen were jacked up. The owner made the decision to put her to sleep. I hung around to help the doctor.
I was okay until after the owner left. She closed the door and the doctor and I looked at each other, and I went "I'm gonna get some trash bags," and practically ran for the bathroom to splash cold water on my face. I managed to hold it together, thankfully. But I'll probably cry at least once before I go to bed tonight.
So I'm all out of HP, emotionally speaking. I kind of miss my therapist.