Debbie named her blog Living in Stigma because she faces stigma with her own mental illness (depression).  She works in a large office, and feels unable to breathe a word, for how she will be treated.  The goal of her blog is to educate and hopefully make people aware of mental illness stigma and help put an end to it.

I ultimately realized that depression was altering my life when I met some girls from work for dinner.  Sounds bizarre.

Supervisor of three women in accounting, I enjoyed my position and found it a challenge.

Crushing depression found me with two brief hospital admissions in 1994, and an on and off medical leave from work.  The company was incredibly generous with time off during the “between” leaves, but I found I just couldn’t manage the demands of work.

During the second hospital admission, I was home for one weekend.  The girls and I decided to gather for dinner at our “usual” spot.  We regularly met once per month, had an evening filled with laughs, and couldn’t wait until the next month’s dinner.  They would forever look to me as leader, to tell the humorous stories, and bring life to the conversation.

Tonight would be different.  In my journal I noted: “tonight was a disaster, I was almost in tears”.

We all gathered, sat at our favorite table; and each person simply sat in silence.  No conversation; just frozen looks.   I was the one to speak up and asked “how is work?”  The conversation began, each person sharing and inputting opinions/gossip about the office. That aside, chatter became light; “did you see Oprah’s dress last week?”, “you know they are laying off 35 people at the plant on --- Street”.  It was very awkward.

Time to order, and time to ask how I was.  I did not disclose too much; these ladies were uninformed of mental illness nor that of depression.  We all sat in silence.  “Pass the pepper”, were the only words spoken. 

The entire evening felt as if we were all ‘walking on hot coals’, and I knew my life would forever be affected by mental illness.  I was employed with this company for five years, and worked with these women for the majority of that time; and now they didn’t know me any longer, nor did I know them.  I wonder if possibly they felt uneasy to ask any questions of me.  That is a thought.  If I were in their shoes – would I?

In conclusion:  I lost my career with this company eventually and not employable until 2005.  As for the women; they kept in touch for about one year after that fateful dinner, however, phone calls and cards soon dwindled to zero and I have never seen any of them since.

Written by:  D. McCarthy