Society is obsessed with labels.
Our food and beverages are labelled.
Labels warn us about harmful chemicals.
They also provide care instructions to launder our clothing.
And the fashion industry? People pay a fortune for designer brands.
We have far too much stuff so we organize and label to keep track of it.
We love to label people and their behaviour. Few, if any of us, escape getting labelled throughout our lifetime. I’m no exception. Here’s a few I’ve worn over the years in somewhat of the order they appeared:
Smart
Sensitive
Achiever
Quiet
Reserved
Stubborn or is that Determined
Skinny but also Fat
Hard working
Difficult
Bossy
Man-hater
Tree Hugger
As you can see, I’ve had the gambit.
There were other labels that aren’t appropriate for publication and more I’m not aware of. Probably just as well.
I can add a new label to the list: Totally Disabled.
My long-term disability coverage has been extended.
I’m grateful for the insurance coverage and even more grateful my income will continue. It’s impossible to describe the pressure of the past two years unless you’ve been there.
Sadly though, just the term “Totally Disabled” instills despair and hopelessness. According to Understanding the Link Between Chronic Disease and Depression – National Institute of Mental Health (NIMH), people who have a chronic disease are at a higher risk of developing depression.
Did I mention the stigma? Why should someone who seems healthy be off work?
Let the explanations begin!
It depends on the day and if I’m up for the detailed account of what lead me to this place. It’s easier to say I’m not working and leave it at that. Although “not working” comes with its own stigma.
Can you see why I tried so hard to avoid all of this? Call me psychic but I knew what I’d be up against. I dread seeing people I know – the ones who don’t know my story – and honestly, sometimes the ones who do.
The comments.
The eye rolls, or smirks from some, or a total shutdown from others.
Therapy helped me dissect these reactions. Many people are hanging by a thread. If they acknowledge what happened to me, it’s an admission it could happen to them. It’s easier (for them anyway) to ignore or downplay my situation.
And let’s face it. My story exposes a lot of uncomfortable truths that not everyone is willing to think about.
I have more superpowers. I recognize burnout symptoms from a mile away; I see people who desperately need to move beyond the paradigm of fear to make changes. So many people are stuck like I was.
Hard work is part of my DNA. I am still a “get things done” person, albeit at a more balanced pace than pre-burnout. Sadly though, returning to any job was not a possibility.
You may think I “chose” to be on a disability claim. That couldn’t be further from the truth.
In addition to cognitive issues, my nervous system is stuck in high gear. Any unexpected sudden movement can trigger me so I startle easily. Simply entering the building I used to work in can set off a series of anxious thoughts, a racing heart and my fight or flight response. What does “fight or flight” mean? I want to flee the perceived danger and run to safety.
I certainly didn’t seek out the traumatic events in my life like being raised in a narcissistic family, my father’s suicide, or the toxic workplaces I found myself in over the years.
I did leave no stone unturned when it came to alternatives to the disability path. Unfortunately, the Universe had other plans.
So the answer is no. I didn’t chose this. “This” happened to me.
And now? I’m left to create something worthwhile from the shatters.
It would be an understatement to say the last two years have been very traumatic.
Insult to injury. Literally.
I could see the writing on the wall and I’ve been grappling with the term “disabled” for months now. While I’ve never judged others, it’s different when it’s me. I’m still working through the complicated emotions and it’s a process. I frequently remind myself this is yet another label society uses for people who don’t fit the mold.
While I may no longer fit the societal definition of contributing, this is not the end for me or this blog.
I hope you stick around. Actually, I hope you consider contributing in some way. Building a community takes a village.
I’ve never tried to downplay the impact of suicide on those left behind. It’s only recently that I considered the impact other traumatic events, both big and small, had on my life. Particularly, my nervous system.
Society turns a blind eye to trauma’s impact on the mental health and daily lives of individuals. Too often, we associate trauma with visible dysfunction. Trauma affects people from all walks of life, including those who seem to have it together.
It’s time to normalize conversations about the role trauma plays in our lives.
I’ve been struggling with social media as a means of promotion because it’s harmful effects can no longer be ignored. That poses a challenge though – because how else can I spread the word about this blog?
And those algorithms? Pretty hard to beat without a tremendous amount of interaction (page follows, likes, comments and shares). Thanks to those who do interact. I enjoy hearing from you.
Readers come and go. Becoming a member is a show of commitment – that you see value in this work and want to help raise awareness.
If you’d like to help in some way, all of the above are a HUGE help. In fact, I’d really dig it 😊
