Mental health and the workplace

September is #nationalsuicidepreventionmonth and I have been thinking a lot recently about the dialogue around #mentalhealth and the workplace. I'd like to share my story - or at least, some of it - in case it can be helpful to anyone else.

TW Suicide //

I went through my first major depressive phase, and subsequent suicide ideation, early in my career. I remember vividly being 24 at a work conference, in the middle of a FedEx getting papers copied, suddenly close to tears because I felt so deeply sad and couldn't handle the idea of going back to my group only to worry about whether my colleagues actually liked me or not, whether I was worth this job or not. I looked out the window of the FedEx, the sunlight slanting off a car bumper, and in my utter exhaustion, I thought, "Wow, I wouldn't mind getting hit by that BMW. Maybe just a little?"

Obviously, that was a dark thought. But back then, I laughed it off, despite the vivid imagery that ensued in my brain, because that kind of dark thinking is so often seen as existentialist, generation-specific humor. (And frankly, while teaching, I'd heard a lot of my colleagues mention a "little broken leg" wouldn't go remiss during particularly tough times in the year. Yikes.)

So, I gathered my papers, joined my colleagues, and even as I felt every inch of the crushing sadness bury me like I was a soda can under a trash compactor, I smiled. I laughed. I engaged passionately in topics of discussion. No one was the wiser. Only the echo of that dark thought, the almost thrill of having found a way to address the pain - even in the recesses of my mind, where no one else could see it - remained.

It wasn't until later in my career, when I was an ostensibly high-functioning team leader trying very hard to hide the ways in which my life was falling apart behind the scenes, that the thought resurfaced, and turned into a litany. It was a really unfortunate time - somehow it feels like an understatement to say so, but sometimes there are no words big enough to describe a feeling. I was newly diagnosed with OCD, alongside being diagnosed with major depressive disorder and cycling through meds for the first time, experiencing the pain of interpersonal relationships collapsing, and eventually later that year, the passing of my best friend. I began to return to the idea of dying instead of dealing with everything - so much so that I became convinced that it was the only way, actually - seemingly logical and rational through making a plan, getting my affairs in order, deciding who would erase my Internet history, etc. Then, one day that I'll keep to myself, it got real. Real enough to scare me into finally getting professional help.

But even alongside measures like a dedicated therapist and an intensive outpatient program, I couldn't quite cope. I didn’t seem to get…better. I drank a lot and turned to self-harm. I quit my job, moved cities, cut off old patterns and rituals and tried new relationships. It was a lot of tumult - change, and hope, and despair, all on a New York City budget on a not New York City salary.

Because, you know what? I was undergoing this personal journey all at the same time as I was trying to provide for myself through working. I had four jobs in 3 years. I was called a rockstar, a team player, an asset to the company, at most of them. I even got promoted at 2 of them. I was devoting much needed mental energy to playing "normal" at work, not only trying to survive but also thrive the way I thought I was supposed to. So alongside issues like challenging colleagues, the quintessential grind culture, fighting to be paid market value just to afford an apartment on my own, and more, I was also trying so very hard not to drown in my "real life." No wonder I wasn’t improving. It was incredibly hard, and incredibly messed up. And could I ask for help? Not often - one memorable occasion had me placed on an IDP because I had been "coming into work late and looking apathetic" without any conversation sparked by manager as to why that might be the case.

(A caveat to say, this isn't to blame any one organization or person or even myself. It was a time when asking these questions and talking about these topics wasn't really as common as now. But I think about it a lot...the difference it might have made, to be human about things as a first instinct, instead of "professional," whatever that is given to mean.)

Despite it all, eventually, I grew. I found ways to live in the light. It took time. And it's still not a space where shadows don't still hover over the landscape, large and looming. But the sun did and does come out, in slices and seconds. And I'm here, and happy about it, most days.

So what helped the shift? What helped me see that my life has inherent value that no promotion or title change could validate or invalidate? That I deserved to take care of myself while also having a financial and career safety net, without having to overwork or pretend just to sustain the latter?

I mean, therapy, obviously.

But, it also took being in a place, surrounded by people, where it was the norm to take mental health days and months, to do somatic awareness exercises before check-ins, to talk about our backgrounds and be truly vulnerable. Where we shared our stories openly, without risk of retribution or loss of credibility. Naming without shaming the things we all go through, without feeling "less professional" for it.

I guess I share this because...my depressive disorder is not gone. I continue to experience truly difficult and dark times and thoughts. But I no longer immediately feel anxiety and additional stress about how I'm going to get "better" while also doing my job. I no longer feel like I have to hide this side of me, for fear of what people will think, or any diminishment of my own worth as a leader. And a lot of times, that makes all the difference between looking out the window while running errands and thinking about being hit by the passing BMW or grabbing a coffee instead.

I wanted to share this post because I don't think people realize that giving access to mental health resources for your employees is not enough. Hotlines and passive channels doled out in case people take you up on them is not enough. You also have to treat people as whole people. Anticipate and assume that they are going through things you do not know. Understand they bring with them not only their skills but also their traumas and issues. And create an environment where the necessary support is modeled and proactively given, and people are celebrated when they share their stories, when they are real, when they illustrate the range of humanity and what it means to be "successful."

If this resonates with even one person, I'm glad. And if not, hopefully to my colleagues, this reinforces the need and right for you to take time to just be. I'm right there with you.