The other day I wrote a post on how to stay productive when you are clinically depressed. I mentioned that, at my rock bottom, I had to take a break altogether from writing, as every time I sat down in front of my computer, all I could do was cry. Moreover, because my concentration was totally so shot, composing a sentence — much less an article — wasn’t going to happen.
I took a year off.
To heal.
Because Eric was gainfully employed at that time, I was able to swing it.
Eventually I tip-toed back to the working world. Very slowly. Very carefully. Very deliberately. Because a sudden plunge might have rendered me disabled for another year or so.
And I didn’t start with writing, ironically.
My therapist advised me to do something in which I interacted with people, as the process of writing is not all that conducive to recovery from depression. The time alone and the cerebral exercise can often aggravate depression and anxiety, inviting more invitations to obsess and ruminate. When your job requires that you be among people, some of whom you have to listen to, you have a better shot of concentration.
So I became a tutor at a local college. For two hours a week. I read the words of my students since I couldn’t compose my own.
One of the more complex quandaries of depression is knowing when your job is making you depressed, or if you are just clinically depressed, and you job has nothing to do with it.
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