Depression: Take…50?

I’ve done a lot to tackle my depression. I’ve stopped drinking, stopped working eighty hours a week, undergone major surgery, stopped making dicey choices driving or using a utility knife and glass shards.

This is why Sunday caught me completely by surprise.

A customer called my store full of vitriolic complaints about me and my service.

If you’ve ever talked to me about my vocation you know customer service is one of my greatest passions. My goal is to get the right products in to customer’s hands.

The store and my manager bent over backwards to get this customer more than he bought back.

If you’ve been following along this blog, my social media, or know me in real life you know I’m blaming myself a lot. This blame built up a lot on Sunday. To the point I left work early bc I was scared of where I’d end up if I didn’t. Rinse and repeat Monday when I called out bc the safest place for me, as always, was home where my parents would keep me from doing anything final.

This is the first time, since my surgery, I’ve felt suicidal.

I haven’t expected the surgery to cure my depression. I know ovaries influence hormones, but not chemistry. And this was a chemical reaction.

I’m so over my brain.


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