Anxiety and Paralysis

I’ve started working on this particular blog a couple of different times, but I can never get the words out. The original opening paragraph was very, very different. I started out talking about my generation, the generation, Generation X, but once I made it through the first two paragraphs, I became blocked and either couldn’t or wouldn’t continue.

At first I made the argument that “I loved my generation”, that we were the “generation most likely to survive a Zombie Apocalypse”, but it all felt so disingenuous, fake, even trite, so I put it down for a while, gnawed on it, bent it, twisted it, and looked at the situation from a number of different angles. Nothing really seemed to click, so I kept stress testing it to see where my hypothesis would fail. It all boiled down to the reality that I wasn’t feeling it, not the concept, not the writing, not the reality.

Anxiety and Paralysis.

I log onto my computer or turn on my TV and it’s filled with chaos. Another mass shooting, another potential pandemic, another politician lying about one bullet point or another, the endless march of lemmings yelling about all of our world’s ills but not one of them offering any solutions.

Anxiety and Paralysis.

Family and friends offer the typical refrain, “don’t watch the news.” If you are being stalked by a bear or a tiger, closing your eyes and ignoring the predator isn’t going to make it disappear. The bear or tiger in question is still going to stalk you whether your eyes are open or not, better to know where they are so you can try to avoid the inevitable charge. Unfortunately, in both scenarios, the news or the potential bear/tiger attack have the same result, they often trigger our fear response.

Anxiety and Paralysis.

Yesterday marked the one year mark since I left a position that paid a good salary, offered superb benefits, but was the most toxic office environment I have ever worked, and I worked for Menard, Inc. which has playing games with their employees down to a science.

I worked for Progressive Insurance as a Claims Generalist, was promoted to Managed Repair Representative, then I returned to Claims Generalist where I would end my career after 3+ years of corporate gaslighting, mental health issues, and a trip to the ER thanks to a suicidal episode. I reached a point where I knew I was headed for a third hospitalization due to mental health crises if I stayed in that environment another day. The last 2+ years I worked there, I was on some level of Performance Management, a disciplinary action for employees that aren’t living by Progressive’s “Golden Rule” or performing to their rigid expectations of whatever role employees may hold.

Here, I will concede, there were some concerns with my performance, but much of what I was struggling with was a direct result of incomplete/poor training, being a new repair rep during a pandemic, and mental health concerns. When I went to HR to request help due to my mental illness, my supervisor, branch manager, and regional manager made the decision to move forward with placing me on Performance Management despite me being a member of a protected class of citizen thanks to the Americans with Disabilities Act.

From that day forward, my life at Progressive had become untenable, and my personal life has been ruined. I have been looking for work, taken several interviews, but have not received a single job offer. I feel as though I have been black listed – there is no law in Wisconsin preventing previous employers from sharing details of an employees work history or disciplinary status. I have tried to take the high road, put this chapter of my life behind me, but as Phillip Baker Hall said in Magnolia, “We may be done with the past, but the past isn’t done with us.”

Anxiety and Paralysis.

I still wake up sick to my stomach most days. My modest savings and retirement funds have been all but depleted. I have no prospects for employment, meaning although I have applied for positions, I have yet to hear back on any of them. I constantly question my sanity, whether I did the right thing leaving my job at Progressive, and whether or not I will survive another week. I live in fear of losing my house, one of our cars, and losing my friends. I feel like a pariah because I haven’t found meaningful employment, I feel less than an American, I feel like a taker rather than an earner, like I’ve lost who I am and what I am able to do.

I take my pills, I work my CBT skills, I distract myself from the darkest thoughts, but how long will that last? How many years, months, days, minutes do I have left before I have another breakdown or worse, do something beyond run-of-the-mill self harm or tearing myself down? I choose to do nothing because at least by doing nothing I can’t hurt myself or the ones I love, and that is no way to live.

Anxiety and Paralysis, the only legacies I have right now.