Depression at Work
I was 25 years old when I first met my depression, and it was a complete shock to my system. Mean, taunting, and as subtle as a cinder block, my depression kept me up nights crying and shaking. I couldn’t eat. I stopped answering the phone. Laughing was a distant memory. In a perfect world, I would have redirected all my time and energy into tackling my depression head-on. But the world isn’t perfect, and I’d just started my dream job. So after each agonizing night, I’d paint on a happy face and head into the office, convinced that the storm inside me would never affect my job.
