Getting Back to Work.
It’s been 8 months since I started my leave last summer, and with 2 months to go, I’ve turned my attention more seriously to what is next (although I’ve been thinking about it constantly since October, I won’t lie). And I’m finally getting some clarity after months of indecision and anguish.
This has probably been the hardest decision of my life, actually. For some reason, most of my previous big life decisions have been mostly pretty clear. I knew what I wanted and what I needed to do. But this one has been complicated, and I just haven’t been able to think my way through it. Lord knows, I’ve tried.
I took my leave last summer knowing that I needed a break from my job at Queen’s, where I had been working for the last 8 years. I’ve written about this part before, but I had reached a point of burnout, especially after the last 2 years working close to full-time as team lead. The work itself has been very rewarding for many reasons, but there have been a few challenges for me specifically with my mental health (namely anxiety and episodes of depression) that made it more taxing, and lead to me needing to take a break (which I was lucky enough to be able to do).
At the time, I didn’t really know what would come of it. I just knew I needed to change things up. So I did, in a big way. After a summer working on the cabin, on retreat, and doing some cooking, I’ve spent the last 6 months in Chef School at SLC in Kingston – and it has been just what the doctor ordered. A change of scenery and focus, new skills, new ideas, new friends, and a whole new world.
And what started as just a break, started to take on more meaning and weight. I began to entertain the idea that this could actually be a good fit for me in the long term. There are so many things about cooking that I love – the immediacy, the physicality of it, working with food, being a part of a team, the excitement, the learning involved. So I dove in farther, learning in my classes, practicing in my labs, and even allowing myself to imagine an alternative future.
But the whole time, I felt torn. There was this persistent feeling of stuckness. Not being able to let go of my work in counselling, even though it felt so good to be doing something new. And so I’d oscillate between the two opposite worlds of counselling and cooking, leaning this way and that, never ready to go to one side or the other.
But as a good career counsellor would advise, I explored possibilities. Kept my options open, and let myself imagine different possible futures. Continued to reflect on what I was experiencing, and talked things through with different folks. I even networked my way into a job interview, did a trial shift at a local restaurant, and got a job offer.
Which, oddly, is when I finally got some clarity. That offer somehow gave me permission to consider my work at Queen’s in a new light. Instead of feeling stuck in a situation where I was struggling, it was now a choice. I was free to go to the new place, but because of that, I could finally consider my work for all it had to offer. Which is a lot. I have a supportive supervisor, great colleagues, a chance for meaningful connection with engaged clients, an established network and credibility, and a dynamic workplace and innovative projects.
One of the things that made this decision more complex is the mental health component of things. I recently read a great book from CERIC about how career development can contribute to mental health – a fascinating read professionally and personally. A key point though, is that they separate mental health from mental illness, and instead of putting them on two ends of a spectrum, put them on two intersecting axes (the plural of axis, I checked). So while you can have mental illness, you can ALSO have mental health – which consists of positive, life enhancing factors, qualities, and behaviours. And mental health factors, can make dealing with mental illness easier.
I’ve noticed a trend in myself (and many humans it seems), to tend to project my struggles outward onto my environment. So over time, I tend to see my situation as causing my suffering, instead of it being internal to myself. So imagine then, working for eight years somewhere and feeling increasing anxiety and depression over that time – seems natural to want to pin it on the workplace. But since having the break, I get to see that it’s not only from the workplace. Because even when I’m NOT there, I still have to contend with anxiety and depression – albeit, not as extreme. So there is a clue for me in that – the work matters, but the maxim holds “Wherever you go, there you are.”
And in all this experiencing and reflecting, I’m starting to see a way forward. I’m grateful to be working with my employer to put accommodations in place to make my worklife more workable for all parties. To be able to accommodate my social anxiety and depression in such a way that doesn’t lead to burnout. I’m hoping that a relatively simple tweak of reduced hours and workshops will do the trick and not have too much of an impact on operations.
But here is where the idea of Getting Back to Work comes in to its other meaning (there’s always another meaning with me). The internal side of things. As much as the environment matters, I need to be careful not to take my mental health for granted. Just like physical health demands some attention and maintenance (more for some than others), so too does my mental health. I need to do things to keep mentally fit. I know I can be inclined to waste time on my phone playing games, ruminate, or avoid anxiety inducing situations. But this vicious cycle can lead to worse mental health for me. So I need to do the work.
For me the work can include a lot of things. Simple self-care like meditation, journalling, exercise, eating well. Digital hygiene like limiting screen time (including disabling apps like Facebook on my phone, or setting my phone to black and white mode to make it more boring to look at). Psychology homework like independent study about burnout, stress, and trauma, doing regular CBT exercises, seeing a therapist, and considering medication when appropriate. And social activity, connecting, reaching out, and taking social risks. Going outside. Gardening. Cooking. All of those things that look like living a good life to me.
It’s kind of funny/sad, but if I told people I had a heart condition and that was why I needed to take a year off to rest and recover – it would just be so much easier to talk about. But when it is something like burnout, stress, and mental illness – there is this layer of shame to it all for me. Even writing this, I’m still a bit afraid to share these things (although I’ve shared things in the past and found it to be mutually beneficial). Intellectually, I know that mental health struggles are common place. And that it is possible to have mental illness and still be a successful and valued member of society. But that doesn’t make it not scary to admit to it. Probably also means it is worth talking about it.
So? I’m feeling somewhat optimistic. I’ve just finished reading a great book called How to Be Yourself, about social anxiety, and am launching into a new one on stress and trauma called Widen the Window that looks equally amazing. And I’m starting to be able to see ideas about the next chapter of my life. When I’ve not had this hopeful story going on this past year, I’ve really struggled to carry on. And when I have had a story I could believe in, it has made a huge difference.
I’ve learned a lot about food this past year – and I’ve probably learned even more about myself. But, even though my next job isn’t going to be as a cook, I know there is a lot I’ve gained from my time at SLC. I know my cooking skills have improved, as has my bravery in the kitchen. And who knows where those skills might come to play in the future – maybe a B&B, food system development, volunteering at Martha’s Table, or just keeping Carlyn happy and well fed.
Ironically, all this turmoil and gradual resettling and clarification has been not just personally useful, but professionally so as well. It has renewed my belief in the importance of career development, direction, and purpose. And refreshed my empathy for others finding their way through their own career journeys. And it’s gotten me back to the point where I’m not doing this work because I feel like I have to. It’s because I want to. And that is something I want for others too.
Flipping the script.
This blog post has taken me a year to write. Every time I felt close to writing it, some less risky activity would distract me and I’d decide to let it simmer on the back burner just a little while longer. But today, I’m feeling inspired – maybe in part by other people who have taken risks themselves. So, I’m feeling somewhat ready and have logged into WordPress for the first time since LAST March – actually a year ago.
At that time, I was struggling through a bit of a midlife crisis point, trying to find meaningful direction and a way through mounting despair and anxiety. It’s not like I haven’t written about themes like this before, but this time, something was a bit different. It stuck around. Persisted beyond the winter, into the spring and summer, and with fall looming just intensified.
Throughout my life I’ve explored so many strategies for working on my mental health – I kind of feel like I’ve tried almost all of the reasonable ones that have presented themselves. Reading self help books, journalling, creative endeavours, reinventing my career, psychotherapy, meditation, travel, spiritual seeking, and more. And they’ve all helped in different ways, to get me through tough times, or shift or ease my anguish in some way.
Last year, though, it felt different. I had basically all of the external things in place that should be contributing to a happy life. A happy home, a loving wife, great friends and family, an interesting job that I was good at, engaging hobbies, personal growth – so many things going for me. But it all felt meaningless. And I felt less and less engaged with things that used to bring me joy. I’ve dealt with lots of anxiety over the years at different times, but this was the first time that depression settled in for the long term. And I felt trapped, and like I was running out of options.
So, last summer, after talking about it with my therapist for a while, I started taking a prescription for an SSRI – antidepressant and anxiolitic for the first time in my life. To me, this was never a serious option – I always thought that it would mean some admission of failure, or to the seriousness of my situation that I wasn’t willing to concede. That if I took medication, then this wasn’t just something that will power and the right attitude could solve. But, I was desperate enough to explore this, and my thinking around it – and I realized that I had some pretty loaded assumptions and judgments about it.
I talked it through and starting thinking about my fears and hopes around it. Imagining what life could be like if it actually worked like I hoped it would. I was afraid it would make me dependent. Weak. Have terrifying side effects. That it would change me in ways I didn’t want it to. That it was an easy way out. That all my studies and practice about being with my emotions and thoughts were telling me that I just needed to make room for my uncomfortable content, listen to my feelings, and either be mindful of them and accept them, or make some deeper changes in my life or the world. That taking medication would be covering up this warning sign that my heart was giving me.
7 months later, I still wonder about all of these things. I am on a pretty low dose of 25 mg, when the max could be over 60. But it has had an effect, much of it for the better. After the first month at the very lowest dose, there were pretty minimal side effects (some nausea and headaches, fevers, weakness), but also pretty minimal benefits, so I went up from 10 to 25, the next level. And the side effects intensified, but stabilized after a few weeks, and then went away. And amazingly, the benefits increased, and drastically altered my experience of being alive.
Instead of suffering intense peaks of anxiety, I had lower peaks – not no anxiety, but less of it, and less frequently. And despair and depression did not stay – they came for shorter periods, and were less deep. Less hopeless. Less severe. Less considering giving up on everything meaningful in my life.
And not only did it help to reduce the pain, but it also had the positive benefits in terms of engaging with life that I was most hoping for. Not that I wasn’t before, but now I feel less overwhelmed with new projects, and less stressed in social and performance situations – and more and more like I could actually be myself. In the fall I began taking on more of a leadership role at work, moving towards some kind of role as head counsellor. More actively involved in projects with stakeholders across campus. More of a mentor role in the office with other staff. And eventually, I was officially promoted to be the actual Head Career Counsellor.
And instead of being in a negative feedback loop, so often associated with anxiety and depression, I found myself in a positive feedback loop. Instead of withdrawing more, and feeling lonely and depressed, I engaged more, and as a result felt more alive. Instead of it being a crutch in the negative sense – that I feared would make me weak – it became a crutch in the positive sense – promoting healthy activity and growth and healing.
At this point, I am still on the same dose, and think I will keep it likely for a while, not ready yet to disrupt the newfound stability that I’m developing. But I do think about a plan, maybe in a year or so, of weaning off, and seeing how these new changes in my life have affected my experience of being me. In the meantime, it still amazes me that something that I had written off for so long, has turned out to be so profoundly powerful and helpful.
And that’s the other side of this post – in terms of flipping the script – there have been other things that I have excluded from my experience, based on my biases and opinions, that have been worth exploring. Starting with the Emerging Leaders program last spring (something I never would have considered before) – when I started exploring the idea of management, and building on that with the beginning courses of a Business Certificate online through SLC (I’ve done HR and Accounting already), I’m continuing to move in directions I hadn’t thought would be so meaningful. I’d written off business too, as something not to be trusted, as shallow, or not important. But of course, learning tools of business can be so empowering for getting things done in our society – foolish me for denying it.
Beyond that is a larger theme of engagement with the world. My approach previously with work had been trying to keep it in its place. Something to make money, but not the main event – life was something outside of it. With study, volunteering, farming, travel, meditation, writing, art, and more. But yet another script is being flipped. Instead of trying to keep work in its place, now I am going further in. I am assuming a leadership role in the office, and investing myself in it. And finding it much more engaging in the process. I feel exhausted at the end of the day, but in a good way – knowing I was busy and challenged by the day.
And more broadly, it’s gotten me mindful of other scripts I have, and we all have. What stories are we telling ourselves that are limiting our perceptions, and experience of life? Who am I cutting myself off from, that I could open to? New people, new places, new ideas, new directions – the more I open myself to the world, the more I can feel that sense of aliveness, engagement, and connection.
So that brings me to my final script – about writing this post in the first place. Admitting to mental health challenges was one thing I had done in the past, but I never felt I was acknowledging the level in any clear way. By confessing to taking medication, there seems to be more heft. It is a declaration of the level of struggle I have been through. And it feels significant.
As much as I hate to admit it, testaments from others through campaigns like Bell Let’s Talk (which I have mixed feelings about due to the corporate involvement) have affected me. And most powerfully, a recent opening up by Demar DeRozan from the Toronto Raptors affected me even more. He’s a pretty big star in the NBA, but he admitted to his own struggles with mental health issues – and he did it to help other people. To ease the stigma – and it eased mine.
So that’s the main reason why I’m writing this. As much as it is liberating for me to admit to this, it would be more meaningful to me if someone else read this and felt a little safer to open up. This is not a cry for help, or attention – I am doing well. I’m writing this for other people who need to hear it, hoping that they might give themselves a little more permission to accept where they are at. To seek help. Or open up and share. That would make it is worth the risk of admitting to what many can perceive as weakness or admission of failure.
Instead I’m choosing to look at it as a success. What finally gave me permission to try the prescription was flipping my script. By relating to my struggle as I would a physical symptom – I gave myself permission to get help. Learning about the biopsychosocial approach to mental health in my master’s studies helped with this – seeing the multiple factors at play. If I had chest pains or headaches, I would not have any trouble with taking medication – I wouldn’t judge myself. I would just do it and move on with my life.
And taking medication, in conjunction with therapy, and positive life changes, meditation, journalling, reading, art, and so much more – all together, have proven a powerful combination for moving my life forward. I’m not saying that it is something for everyone, or every situation – but done mindfully, it can help. And start a positive feedback loop and build upwards momentum.
If anyone reading this is going through their own struggles and confusion about how to move forwards, I would encourage you to get help and talk to someone. It really can make a difference. And if you have your own story to share about your experiences, I would encourage you to add your voice to the growing choir to work to change our attitudes and stigma to mental illness towards a more healthy and inclusive one. Thanks for reading.
K. Miguel Hahn 