Right before we went to Greece, I met with my psychiatrist to talk about quitting my meds in preparation for pregnancy. I could've switched to a different drug that was known to be safe for fetuses, but I chose not to. I had always intended for the antidepressants to be a temporary thing anyway, and everything was going so well in my life that it seemed like the right time to give them up.
Today, over two years later, I went back to my shrink to request a new prescription. At first, I was feeling a bit defeated, but I've reconsidered. This is not a step backwards. This is a wake up call. When your workplace is so toxic that you have to medicate yourself in order to deal with the anxiety, that's when you have to admit that your reasons for staying are just excuses. It's time to get the fuck out. But I don't want to put myself (or Steve) through the stress of unemployment. So my hope is that the new meds will keep me on an even keel long enough to find another job. It was getting to the point where I feared I would just flip out one day, call Mr. Boss a douche and walk out. And although part of that would be satisfying (guess which part!), that's ultimately not how I want it to go down. I need to take the high road on this one.
I have a note in my phone titled, "Things At Work: When I finally leave [my workplace], don't forget the following:" There's a short list which includes my coffee mug and my Pangea clipboard. But it's the last item that's most important: "Dignity".
2 comments:
You. are. smart. Meds are good; work is bad, and as sweet as it would be to call your boss douchy, it's better to have the good reference check from a new job. Also, I accidentally left my dignity at my last office, and you should see what it looked like when I got it back. Someone must be teething.
I'm sorry your dignity was nibbled upon. I hope the damage was reparable.
Unfortunately, I probably won't be able to get a reference anyway, because that would involve telling my bosses that I'm looking for another job. Doh.
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