A Depressed HR Pro
The first time I said out loud that I was depressed I was working a fully remote job before the pandemic. I lived in the basement of a family member’s house after moving from my home in Arizona. I’ve mentioned before on this blog how I had been truly shattered into a billion pieces by a romantic partner, almost took my own life, so I picked up and moved to Colorado with what would fit in my Nissan Sentra.
Months later I would take work calls in the upstairs office, then crawl back to my basement bedroom where I would slide into bed and fall back to sleep until my alarm woke me up for my next meeting. I slept between all of my meetings and got actual work done at night when my self-loathing was at its peak.
I didn’t verbalize my depression until I was six months into therapy and safe with an angel I called Dr. B, a woman that saved my life and sewed me together stitch by stitch as I clawed to keep my career and relationships.
With Dr. B’s help, the help of my community, and my faith, I climbed out of the dark hell I had only empathized with until then - empathized with my own family members, my own employees, my own colleagues.
2020 started with me receiving a message on my birthday, January 2nd, that my oldest sister was put on military notice to go to Turkey for a potential war due to the Trump administration. Then in February, my adopted mom died, and in March, the pandemic. In June I resigned from the company I was working for due to their lack of morality and I have been on the job search since then.
My biggest fear in the last two years has been returning to that depression hell. And I sit here in December, managing a restaurant, hundreds of hours of HR interviews under my belt since June, starting an HR Book & Podcast club, mentoring young HR professionals, running this blog and content site, and I can vulnerably tell you…
I’ve returned to that hell.
There are many triggers to mental health relapse, and there are no triggers at all; that fact alone has made me a better HR professional.
As deeply exhausting and raw as it is to be this open on my blog during this season of my life, it is imperative for me to use this platform to share with you what this depression has taught me in my professional life and how it has helped me become a greater, more impactful HR Warrior.
Before I share these lessons it’s important for me to say a few disclaimers: I am okay, but very tired. The Kayla you see on Zoom is still me, just not the whole me, but I will return to her soon. Next, I am not a mental health expert and am sharing my experience, not expertise. Please spend time with mental health professionals to find programs and practices that work for broader mental health areas. Lastly, my battle is with depression. There are thousands of other battles, and those battles should be given just as much care and respect. While I am honored to have you along with me for my journey, I hope you join others on theirs even if you have to get uncomfortable doing so.
Now, to the lessons I’ve learned and am learning in hell:
No Empty Words - Humans struggle with words when they’re uncomfortable. When we’re face to face with grief, racism, sexism, or mental health struggles, humanity stumbles on their words. We use platitudes that stroke our own consciences like, “They’re in a better place, things will get better, I’ve been there too, I’m sorry.” What we’re really saying is, “I struggle with the right thing to say when I’m confronted with the bumpy side of your human-ness.” Let me tell you what makes hell worse…empty words. It makes me feel like you’re so uncomfortable you’d rather jump out of this moment than get in the trenches with me even though I took the risk of opening up. When employees, and humans, open up to you about their mental hell, cut the empty words out. Practice authenticity like their lives depend on it. “This sounds like hell, and I want to know more if you want to share it with me; I had no idea you were going through all of this, how long has it been this hard; is there more you want me to know about how it is to be you in this season of your life?” Sit right in it with them, be present, listen more than you talk.
Tangible Help - The worst thing I hear when I’m walking through hell is, “Well let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.” Until I went through my first round of depression I had no idea how incapacitating it truly is. I am physically incapable of completing laundry most weeks. I am capable of doing everything needed for my professional life, but the moment I am home I am legitimately unable to do anything outside of meeting the needs of my dog. It is the biggest surprise to an immigrant who’s never been able to sit still in her life, and yet the largest lesson about what employees are going through because asking for anything above their job duties is actual torture. Once we’ve been made aware of the struggle and offered EAP, compassion in action looks like paying for a laundry service. It looks like paying for doggy day care if they have pets, paying for a cleaning service, giving a gift card for a massage or a hair wash and blow out, paying to get their groceries delivered, anything to help with at home tasks. If you want to be a tangible help, providing services that help with everyday tasks outside of work instead of asking a brain who’s chemical makeup is changing to give you creative advice is the most humane way to support people walking through this hell.
Fierce Confidentiality - While we all know that mental illness is protected under HIPAA, the gossip circles in HR is actually repulsive. The reason so many HR professionals burnout is because they’re sucking in all their fears due to the fact that they know their peers will spread those fears like wildfire. If an employee, especially a colleague, tells you that they’re fighting a mental health battle, it is your absolute battle to keep your mouth shut. Once you have offered ADA and EAP and walked through the proper documentation process, you better keep that so close not even your partners or family members know about it. Here’s why - despite my courage and openness about my mental health struggle, others knowing is excruciating. I am still so capable of being a strong HR professional. I still want to be hired to do brave, innovative, beautiful work. I still want to be given big projects when I’m on a team and be trusted to lead huge initiatives. Humanity has immense unconscious bias towards mental illness and despite the rise in awareness, the bias is there, and it can cripple a career. If you do nothing at all, keep it to yourself or please get out of Human Resources.
The holidays are a tough time for millions of people around the globe. With one in four people fighting mental illness, and 2020 crushing the backs of our employees (and ourselves), my hope is that my own transparency will encourage more authentic conversations, safer spaces, and a slightly less dark hell for you and your communities.
I love you, HR Community. Thank you for being with me through every season of my journey, even the ugly ones.