Member-only story
I Admit It. I’m Depressed.
And not very surprised
A couple weeks ago, it got bad enough for me to notice. As I’ve gone through normal days with typical stresses, I’ve been getting these weird mood swings — cheerful one minute, sad the next. At first, I saw no need to worry. The blues never lasted long. It’s been easy enough to get a grip and shove that customer service mask on my face.
“There’s nothing wrong,” I’ll tell myself. “I’m just serving coffee.” I’ve memorized a little speech. Then the melancholy disappears, and my painted-on smile isn’t quite so fake.
But here’s the worrisome part. After I’ve done my little happy-to-serve-you routine my body aches as if I’ve done one too many sit-ups. I get that edgy feeling that I’ve pushed myself too far. Then those stories that constantly run through my head get weird, carried along on an undercurrent of pessimism that is simply not in my nature. Too, I’m grumpy and impatient.
The boss called me into the office the other day and asked, “Why are you snapping at co-workers?” I growled at him and told him, very impatiently, that it must have something to do with my son. Luckily, I stopped short of growling at a resident. But I sure wanted to. How is it even possible for these people to be so maddening?
