Guest Blog: Unemployed, Depressed and Searching for Hope Part II

Moving On After Professional Disaster Hits
Editor’s note:  This is the first of a two part series.

By Dr. Christina McCale, author, “Waiting for Change”

In the subsequent months after the publication of my book, “Waiting for Change” I have had innumerable people contact me: some thanking me for the book. Others commenting how they could relate to my situation. Others describing their own stories of job loss and the terror that ensues after that catastrophe has been set upon them.

But invariably, as I talk with, thank and continue to share with these incredible human beings, the question comes up: So how do you move on?

I wish I had a good answer. But in this posting, I’ll provide a bit of “framework” for thinking about the grieving process after your loved one has lost their professional identity.

Most times, when I’m asked this question, I compare the experience of the last two years to the grieving process Kubler-Ross describes: you’re going to go through different phases. There really isn’t a logical “pattern” for getting from point A (the day you lose your job) to point B (the day you realize you’ve gotten past the pain).  Not everyone is going to go through all the same phases in the same way or in the same order – because grief is a personal thing.

As I was told by a kind soul, so long ago, upon the death of my own family members:  “I promise you there will come a day – a whole 24 hour time period – when you will forget that they’re gone; that the pain has slipped away. But it may take a whole year of birthdays and holidays and missed vacations to get through all the ‘what might have beens’ before you can move on.”

While I know intellectually that there has been some comment and criticism of the Kubler-Ross model (denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance), and I am hardly an expert therapist or knowledgeable about psychology, to me, it does at least seem to provide somewhat of a framework to begin to make some sense of what has just occurred – and perhaps a perspective that can help the loved ones who will now be called on to buoy the unemployed person through the next phase of their life.

A Complicating Factor

What might complicate matters, though, is that as a society we don’t see job loss as a “death” per se – although many have described work as an innate part of our identities and in many cases a cornerstone of one’s social life.  The notion of unemployment – or rather the inability to move on and find a new job – carries a stigma with it that dates back to our colonial America.

The Puritan work ethic, a belief that our dedication to doing a job well is a way of honoring God, is a part of our very social fabric. Our very language is peppered with the language that reinforces the importance of getting the job done and doing it well:

“Make hay while the sun shines.”

“Go the extra mile.”

“Your work should speak for itself.”

“Actions speak louder than words.”

“Don’t waste time.”

“Idleness is the devil’s handmaiden.”

“Don’t put off to tomorrow what you can do today.”

“Don’t just stand there … DO something.”

Some of our most fundamental attitudes come from that colonial society which emphasized the importance of work: where the community had to prioritize and safeguard its resources. Therefore, the poor then fell into two categories: the deserving poor and the non-deserving poor – those who through some character flaw or lacking in their effort to contribute their work. Later these attitudes morphed – that the poor were acculturated to be poor – that they didn’t know how to behave any differently and that their own actions perpetuated their lot in life.

So not only are we as a society taught to believe that work is an important part of our lives, to the degree that we identify ourselves through our work, but we are also then lead to the fallacy that if we are not working there must be something wrong with us.

Or if we were fired, laid off, etc., then we must have done something wrong…  been inadequate in some way.

We failed.

And let’s face it – failure is not something our society talks about willingly, let alone accept and forgive readily.

So understanding that there is a whole host of acculturation, societal expectations and psychological identity elements – not to mention the greater issues of macro-economics, social justice, and equity that I won’t even begin to touch here – how do you get through those stages of grief and attempt to get your life back in some fashion?

Not easily.

When my own identity had been ripped from me, destroying a decade’s worth of effort and dedication to complete my doctorate – something that had cost me dearly in so many other ways –to say that I had been laid low would be too cliché, too much of an understatement for the reality that would ensue. I could barely get off the couch for weeks.  I didn’t sleep more than a few hours a night. I could barely eat. The most mundane tasks of getting kids to school and dinner on the table (which turned into a lot of nights with Domino’s) became insurmountable peaks to climb.

Much like what some may feel when they lose the one they love – a spouse, a parent, a child.  You are now experiencing the unthinkable. The unimaginable is now real. After all,  our profession is a part of our identity. So it follows that we grieve at the loss of a job because we are not only losing a part of ourselves, but experiencing a social death as well.

Editor’s note: Next week Dr. McCale will discuss suggestions for navigating the emotional landscape after layoff, termination or downsizing.

About Waiting for Change:

Part memoir and part social commentary, the book Waiting for Change profiles the very personal realities of job loss during the Great Recession and the domino effect to one’s housing, sustenance, employment, children, and social support systems.  The book takes the reader on a guided tour “behind the story” of all the statistics on the evening news to explore the new and evolving landscape of poverty in the richest country on Earth.  Waiting for Change provides a mental “travelogue” that illuminates not just the immediate impacts of poverty, but the downstream repercussions, all in very personal, relatable and easy to read ways.

About the Author:

Prior to getting her doctorate in Marketing, Christina McCale worked for 17+ years in some of corporate America's biggest companies. For the last 10 years she has taught marketing and management instructional duties at the university level for the last 10 years, she has also been one of the key and has conducted research on how to best prepare our undergraduates for career entry. Today, she lives in Olympia, Washington with her son, daughter, and their two beloved greyhounds.

Take the Stairs: How Self-Discipline and Goal Setting Improve Our Mental Health

An Interview with Rory Vaden

The Carson J Spencer Foundation excited for Rory Vaden and the Take the Stairs tour to come to town on March 4^th (Littleton) and 6^th (Denver)! We are so honored that he is donating the proceeds for this event to help us expand our youth entrepreneurship program to the state of Colorado and to support our partners at the University of Colorado Depression Center.

Rory is a professional speaker and author who promotes self-discipline, and we believe his message ties in well with our mission to help leaders and communities “sustain a passion for life.” I met Rory last fall at the Colorado’s chapter meeting of the National Speakers Association where he was the featured speaker. I was immediately drawn to his “true grit” approach to reaching challenging goals and felt his practical advice on making dreams become reality was spot on for our youth who are now transitioning from business plan creation to implementation.

I also know how goal-setting and persistence affect mental health. The Depression-Bipolar Support Alliance suggests that creating the life you want is an excellent way to build resilience against the on-set of depression.

That said, we also know that goal setting when one is depressed is hard,, and sometimes the smallest steps seem huge. For these reasons the University of Michigan Depression Center created a goal-setting toolkit.

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Dr. Michael Allen, Director of Research at the Depression Center noted that, “Flexibility in goal-setting often leads to success. We must learn to adapt to what's available even though it's not a perfect match with our interests or goals. A problem in depression is rigidity and perseveration.” 

The types of goals we set also influence our well-being.  For example, people who value relationship goals above achievement oriented goals have been found to have a greater sense of wellbeing than people who place achievement goals above relationship goals.  Our perceived lack of progress towards our goals affects our mood, especially when there are large discrepancies between where we are and where we think we should be. Finally, our self-talk around goal failure can influence our mood, do we say, “Bummer! I learned some lessons here and can grow from this experience,” or do we say, “I am a failure. I am always failing. The world is against me.”

For these reasons, I interviewed Rory about his philosophy, book and what we should expect from his presentations on March 4^th and 6^th.

SALLY: What is Take the Stairs all about?

RORY: The last time you had the option of heading up the escalator or taking the stairs, did you take the stairs? If you're like most people then probably not.  Unfortunately most people have an "escalator" mentality in all areas of their life. They are looking for the shortcut, the easy way, and the overnight success. Yet even in this instant age, success in anything simply comes down to discipline; the discipline to do things you don't want to do.  The book is about the psychology of overcoming procrastination, how to simplify the process of improving our self-discipline, and how to get ourselves to do the things we know we should do when we don't feel like doing them.

SALLY: In your experience, how does goal setting and goal achievement affect self-perception and mood?

RORY: The most disciplined people in the world have determined that the best strategy is to put your self-esteem into your work habits and not your outcomes. In other words they focus only on what they can control and let the rest of life happen as it may. This is important because it means we can have confidence in ourselves that is unconditional and not affected by the positive or negative circumstances we may be facing in life as long as we are working as hard as possible on the things that we have in our power. I’d encourage people to focus on the next step in their path. What is the best thing is that they can do to influence that step? I tell people not put so much pressure on themselves about whether or not their goal may come to fruition exactly as hoped.

SALLY: What can people expect when they come to the event?  Who should come?

RORY: Everyone!  From high school students and their parents to professionals in the community, everyone can benefit from improved self-discipline.  I’ll be teaching the 7 strategies of simplifying self-discipline that are in the book.  Plus, by being there you’re supporting the Carson J Spencer Foundation’s Fire Within Program.  I look forward to being there!

This event is for people who want a more fulfilling lifestyle—those who are looking to take a different approach in 2012. My goal with this event will be to change the way audience members look at their path to success—each dream is achievable, but short cuts are not an option. We’re going to talk about why taking the stairs is the only route to the top.

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Join Us! You can register for FREE but seating is limited.

 To learn more about Rory, please visit www.roryvaden.com.  

TO REGISTER:

March 4^th at Columbine High School www.takethestairslittleton.com

March 6^th at the Colorado Depression Center www.takethestairsdenver.com

Guest Blog: Why I Donated My Psyche to Science

I am delighted to introduce my guest blogger Amy (Cooper) Rodriguez. Her husband Dave was a good friend of my brother Carson's; they all attended Bowdoin College (class of '93). Last month she reached out to me to tell me they thought of Carson a lot and remembered his vitality. She also told me that she suffered from depression on a number of occasions (including while at Bowdoin) and did her best to hide it at all cost. Recently, she met with a group of medical students to let them interview her about her experiences with depression and anxiety and to let them know how good people can be at hiding it. Thank you, Amy for sharing your story. In her words...

Amy Cooper Rodriquez, Guest Blogger


As Robert Frost said, “I experience everything twice. Once when I experience it and once when I write about it.” Therein lies the reason I don’t like to talk-much less write- about depression.

But after successful treatment for post-partum depression, I was intrigued to get an email from my psychiatrist saying, “How would you feel about being interviewed by some second-year med students? You can tell them what you’ve gone through and help them understand a bit about depression and anxiety. You’d be great!”

Hmmm. What did this mean? I couldn’t figure out whether to be flattered or alarmed. Did this mean I was the epitome of anxiety…the most extreme case he’d ever seen? Or did it mean I was just high-functioning enough to put some answers together?

I had my first bout with depression when I was a sophomore at Bowdoin College. My boyfriend and I had broken up, and he was dating someone new. I watched them stroll hand in hand as I plodded across the quad to class. I felt as if I were wearing a lead vest from an x-ray. The campus still looked idyllic, like the brochure. The pine trees still reached into the brilliant blue sky while the sun shone on the students playing Frisbee, yet I could only observe: “The sky is very blue.” I had a hard time understanding people. When I think back, I picture cocking my head to the side while I listened to them, as if I were a dog, or squinting my eyes while I watched their mouths, as if I were hard of hearing. Worst of all, I didn’t tell anyone how I was feeling. Not only did I feel depressed, I felt ashamed.

When I recovered, I swore I’d never feel that shame again. But the next time, the shame was worse because this time my depression came with the birth of my first baby, my daughter. I remember how guilty I’d felt lying next to her thinking, what gives me the right to be sad when I have a beautiful, healthy baby? I wondered how many moms were out there now, lying next to their babies, crying. And I knew I had to contact my doctor and see what I could do.

I emailed my psychiatrist asking him what the meeting would involve. He left me an enthusiastic voicemail, “Oh, they need to learn how to listen to their patients. They’ll be more nervous than you! You’ll be wonderful!”

So, a week later I drove into Boston. Like everyone in hospital waiting rooms, I was nervous and fidgety. I sat up straight, slouched back into the chair, stood up, looked out the windows, and rummaged through my pocketbook.

At last, my doctor appeared, smiling warmly. He gestured behind him to a flock of eager young people in white coats. Beautiful people right out of Grey’s Anatomy.

“Amy,” my doctor said, “you’ll be coming with us. “Mike, here,” he pointed to the cutest one, “has agreed to do the interview.” Mike, with his dark hair and olive skin, smiled at me with piercing blue eyes. I found myself wishing he were less handsome.

My doctor led us to the hospital cafeteria where I scanned the room to see if I knew anybody. This seemed like a strange place for a confidential interview, but my doctor found a table tucked toward the back of the room. The students and I jockeyed awkwardly for seats. I didn’t want to be at the head of the table, like I was leading a boardroom meeting, nor did I want to be alone on one side of the table like an inmate at a parole board hearing. I was hoping for a we’re-all-in- this-together feeling.

I finally sat in the middle of one side, and hospitably waved for the students to sit. They looked nervous and, because of my habit of talking when I am nervous, I began to babble. “It’s so great that you guys are doing this. Wow. Med school. I went to PT school.” Smile. Smile. Babble. Babble. I was playing emcee for this group of medical students. I looked at my doctor as if to say please stop me.

He intervened. “Mike will ask you some questions, and you answer with whatever you are comfortable sharing.”

Mike smiled. He made excellent eye contact.

“So Amy, how’ve you been feeling?”

I reverted to the role of the happy patient. “Good. Good,” I answered, nodding my head and smiling.

Mike raised his eyebrows.

“Oh well, I used to be depressed,” I said, laughing nervously. “You know, back in college, when my boyfriend and I broke up. And then after I had my daughter. Sometimes I don’t feel so great, but then I see Dr. Sharp, and he helps me.”

Mike nodded and leaned toward me.

I leaned in, too, ready to be impressive and articulate. But then I thought, What am I doing? I am not here for a job interview. I am not trying to convince people of how capable I am. I took a deep breath and sat back. I remembered why I came. Why I paid a sitter to watch my kids. Why I drove through crazy Boston traffic. Not to chat with a handsome guy but to help doctors learn how to figure out their patients. To take time. To dig deeper. To really know them. Because they would all have patients like me who try to appear peppy and bright when they are dying inside.

I let my shoulders fall. “It’s been really, really hard,” I said. “I’ve been depressed a few times. I have to be careful to make sure my life is balanced. I take medicine, but I also have to talk about it and make time for myself.”

I scanned the table. They were all listening intently. So I held nothing back. “I’ve given birth twice, had surgeries, been hospitalized with infections, had migraines, and I would gladly take all of those experiences over being depressed. That’s how bad it feels.”

Suddenly I was acutely aware of my surroundings--not in anxious way--but in an empowered way. I had wanted to be honest, to try to help others, to reduce the stigma of mental illness. I had never been sure of how, but maybe this was it.

The students looked at me and nodded. I didn’t babble or fidget and neither did they. We sat in silence for a moment, and I knew they had heard me. After a pause, they began asking questions, and I answered them. It became less of an interview and more of a conversation. They asked me what made me tell the truth to Dr. Sharp and asked what they could do to get patients to talk. I told them, “I saw a lot of doctors who were fine but they never knew how much I struggled. Dr. Sharp took the time to chip away until I told him how bad things were. I think the doctor has to be open and caring, and I think the patient has to be ready.”

They thanked me graciously as we stood and shook hands. Then my doctor patted me on the back as he walked me to the door. “See?” he said. “I told you you’d do great. Thanks for helping us.”

Maybe it was the idealist in me, the romantic--the Grey’s Anatomy viewer, but I drove home feeling like those young people would understand more about their patients someday. Maybe someday a college girl like me would come in to their office- or a new mom ashamed to admit just how desperate she feels. Maybe it would be a middle-aged man-a CEO- or a new dad, and maybe these doctors-to-be would help. At least I hope so. And hope, so they say, is the best antidote to depression.