Idiggraves

It Started as a work thingy

As pressures mounted and deadlines accumulated I found myself staring at a blank computer screen unable to even complete a game of spider solitaire. My hands shook and I realized the fraud was over. I saw a doctor who presecribed Prozac, then Resperdal, then Clonazapam and somehow these concoctions allowed me to live. My workmates were divided between those who thought I was a malingerer and those who cared. My family much the same. My wife thank god chose to accept the breakdown. I saw a clinical psychologist who assessed me as being on the short end and suffering from Post Traumatic Syndrome and work related stress. It all came to a close for me. Work people forced me back but not before making an effort to end my employment with them. Fortunately, I had my wife and I'm no dummy. Together we cobbled a deal that sees me working half time and taking a course or two. My therapist chose the month of January to take a long break and the days have been staggered between ultimate bad and some good. But always I wake up with a vomit and shaking hands. Somehow it is holding together.