written on May 8, 2012 and saved for publication until tenure

Sometime in the fall of 2011, it became apparent to me that I was depressed.  More than likely, I had been depressed for several years before, but that it had slowly become worse.  Fall of 2011 was difficult for me.  I was teaching two large classes, one a freshman class that I had not taught before.  It was the last quarter before I submitted my mid-tenure review.  By exam week, after weeks of just barely managing to keep up with my teaching duties, I knew that I needed help beyond that of my partner and close friends.

I was not teaching during the winter quarter of 2012.  So, I was able to devote a little more time to getting better, seeking council, and experimenting with various treatments.  But I felt behind.  Very behind.  I would feel energetic and would pour every ounce of that energy into finishing papers, travelling, giving talks, advising students in a hopes to make up for what I thought was four months of futility.  And I would tire myself out and I would crash.  I think the technical, and thankfully figurative, term is ‘lose my shit’.  Travelling was particularly stressful and, months and months before, I had planned for this teaching-free quarter to be a quarter of reconnecting with collaborators and establishing new ones.  I managed a few of those trips, but had to cancel others.  I was up and down on at least a fortnightly basis.

So when winter quarter finished, and with a positive mid-tenure review behind me, I faced adding teaching to what I felt was an unsustainable pattern, I knew something had to give.  I talked with my boss about taking a partial leave.  Cutting back on my hours.  She was very supportive and so I arranged to take one day a week off work.  In addition to weekends.  So, instead of working 6 days a week, I would work 4.  I did this officially, through human resources, applying for FMLA leave so that I could take my leave unpaid and ease my guilt.

So for the last 6 weeks, I have been working 40 hours a week, consistently, for the first time in a long while.  I know that many (perhaps most) salaried employees work more than the usual 40 hour work week, but still, I do find that it is strange that I went through the rigor of federally protected sick leave to allow myself to work what is intended to be a normal work-week. I know I could have gotten away with working 40 hours a week for a long while without taking leave.  But, I did this for myself.  First, I knew that if I didn’t need to write on a piece of paper that I didn’t work one week-day per week, I may make excuses and exceptions.  Second, I was worried that, if it took a while for me to feel mentally recovered, my productivity may have taken a dive and I may need an extra year to work towards tenure.  With leave, I would have no problems getting that extra year.

Nevertheless, it seems to be working.  I have had 6-7 weeks of keeping my shit together.  I feel productive.  I feel happy.  I feel healthy.

Maybe we’d all feel a little better if we worked a little less.