So what happens when a worker doesn’t work? I derive too much value out of the work that I do.

Two weeks ago I checked myself into the hospital because my techniques for dealing with random suicidal thoughts were becoming less and less effective. It’s not much fun to do anything when the overarching thought is self-destruction. I purposefully left the “real world” and entered into a world that is 100% focus on the care of its inhabitants. This was the right move, but that does not last forever and now I find myself standing on some distant mental shore while I try to gain my bearings.

Electroconvulsive Therapy is not easy on the body. I get knocked out with Propofol, pumped full of muscle relaxers, and then get shocked. This past Monday the attending doctor upped the volts to hopefully have more of an effect on my synapses. That wigged me out more than I had become accustomed to. Yesterday I endured the same procedure and while I’m happy to be back at home, my mind feels more than a little knocked around. I can’t quite recall what I did yesterday and even this morning is fuzzy.

All this bowing at the foot of my depression, and it is a cruel master. For the last few years I thought I had the thing whipped; now I’m not so sure. I know enough about how to mitigate the worst of it but there are still sizeable chunks that disrupt my life. In many ways it’s not fair, but fairness was never in the cards. I have no choice but to deal with my genetics, which is a full-time job that has currently supplanted my actual full-time job.

My friends and family are at pains to remind me that I am more than my work. In fact, they often remind me that I tell students exactly that when I speak to them at schools. It’s a concept that is easy to tell others but I find very hard to admit to myself. I’m considerably more than what I do for a paycheck, I’m even more than what I write on this blog or say to different audiences. However, the ill part of my mind happily highlights the areas of my life that it deems deficient.

So what am I doing to arrest my slippage? One is getting out of bed. Two is doing something as minor as eating. Three may just be cleaning up around my home. It’s remarkable how much better the mind feels when you impose some amount of organization on the environment. Time to go give organizing a try. Will report back how I feel.