One of my first grown-up jobs was at the Taos Ski School in New Mexico. I was 25 years old and really had no idea how to ski but managed to get an Assistant Supervisor position at the children’s ski school. On the morning of my first day I was excited to meet my staff and “make my mark.” I was most excited to have money coming in and pay the rent, lifting me out of the growing pool of out of work poets who sat at the coffee shop drinking sludge and impressing tourists with our lack of income and direction. I smiled at my staff as they walked past the boots and bindings to the time clock on the wall where they inserted their cardboard ticket to a paycheck. One bright, attractive woman in a hot pink ski suit walked up to me after she clocked in and with a weak, sarcastic smile announced: “Nothing like punching out my soul every morning!”
Ouch. That hurt. And it was only my first day. I went on to understand her feelings firsthand and by the end of my second month (and first paycheck) I decided that I missed the coffee shop more than I thought. I felt heavy, stuck and maybe a little queasy as I drove my truck up the winding snow-covered road to 9,000 feet and it wasn’t the altitude sickness. It didn’t take long to understand why so many ski instructors viewed me as part of the problem before they really knew me. I was an administrator, part of the system. And the system was not their friend. In fact, in my short tenure, my attempts to go above me to make some changes to our department and improve work conditions were mostly rejected or ignored. I gave my two weeks notice mid-season and relinquished the season ski pass to which everyone seemed so attached. I was free once again, and while I returned to the struggle to make rent, I no longer felt heavy, stuck and perhaps depressed.
Workplace Depression is oftentimes a twofold story. There are some employees who bring their depression to work with them and there are others who find that going to work creates a situation whereby they feel depressed. In my practice, I work with both sides of this story.
For some, it is “work” simply to find one’s way out of bed each morning, get showered and dressed and make it to the office. These people tend to do their best to pretend to be emotionally fine as it is generally socially unacceptable to be a “downer” at work. Once they head home, it is like the mask is removed and their true affect emerges.
For others, life seems to be going generally well, relationships are steady and pleasant, until they arrive at work. Then it hits them: “I’m so miserable at this job that I think I will die if I stay here another day. But, wait, I’m stuck here because I don’t know what else I could even do or want to do….” The feeling of being trapped in a job where one is unhappy can be a precursor to depression, however the foundation for that depression is often rooted in deeper circumstances and beliefs such as low self-esteem, general confusion about life, and even substance abuse.
While many of us need to work simply to pay the bills, there is a balance between necessity and finding our passion that oftentimes gets overlooked because the pile of bills make us feel so anxious. Please remember this: The goal is not to pay the bills. The goal is to monetize our passion so that we can do what we love and the bills get paid as a by-product. There is nothing wrong with getting a job in order to pay the bills. However, it must be considered a temporary placement. A means to an end. The true goal is to love what we do and do it because there is nothing else we’d rather do.
Jeffrey Sumber is changing the world, one relationship at a time. For over two decades, Jeffrey has worked to understand the human experience from as many angles as possible. As a successful psychotherapist, marriage counselor, and life coach, Jeffrey has worked with thousands of clients who strive to live their best lives.
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