Well, I lasted roughly 2 weeks in my first full time job before I had a meltdown and just physically couldn’t do it.
I couldn’t tell you exactly what set it off. Long hours of repetitive work doing basically nothing except sitting there; not being fully trained and not actually knowing what I was supposed to be doing because they hired too many newbies and let me fall through the cracks, annoying and nearly constant conversation about annoying topics from coworkers sitting next to me, or maybe it was the growing paranoia that the leads just didn’t like me. From day one, I suspected they’ve been talking about me behind me back, and there was no way they were saying good things.
Maybe it all really boils down to a much simpler fact: boredom is toxic, and 8 hours of forced boredom a day for a week would have become an inevitable death sentence.
It was probably all of the above, building up until unnaturally frequent bathroom breaks for the sake of getting up and having just a couple minutes to myself were no longer enough to calm the raging storm in my head, and I just knew I had to get out. I remember leaving rather vividly because I wasn’t in control of anything I did that morning; something else just took over, made me get up, turn in my things, leave for an early lunch, and just never go back.
Yes, it was impulsive, and a generally terrible idea, but while the idea may have been growing in my mind for a while, the actions never really felt like my own.
And for a while it seemed like maybe things were going to work out okay; I was offered an interview a day later for a completely different job doing tailoring and clothing customization work, and I thought the interview went really well, almost as if the universe was just pushing me toward something better. But, of course, it’s now been a good three weeks and I never heard anything back from them. I guess it’s not that big of a surprise, in hindsight; I’m not very good at twisting words to make it sound like I’m actually a reliable and punctual worker, and the truth is I’m just not stable enough to be a very reliable person right now.
I’ve kept busy with projects and kept myself doing mostly okay (although I know full well it’s not sustainable, for now, it’s something). I’ve made a plan to swallow my pride and drag myself back to see a psychologist, but I’ve been too lethargic to put forth the time and effort into researching who might be a good fit. Kind of like how I’ve been too lethargic to seriously research whether being on disability is a viable option past checking that I do have diagnoses which are on the list of covered disabilities and I’m pretty sure those conditions have a substantial impact on my ability to function and hold a regular full time job.
Part of me still worries I’m conning the system and it’s going to end horribly for me; guess that’s what happens to those of us who grow up with parents who hide or deny the existence of our mental illness from anyone and everyone in our lives. I’ll linger on that worry, though, and in my lethargic state, it spirals down to much darker, more abstract feelings of general existential dread, and I’m all but paralysed.
I guess I don’t really know how this all ends, or what even happens next.