I have had bouts of stress and depression for most of my life; certainly I was eight when I started with anxiety triggered migraines. It has grown and diminished and changed over the course of my life. I react to the environment around me strongly.
I have two things stressing me currently. One is the lack of an income. I don't say lack of a job because of the voluntary work I am doing in the charity shop. I absolutely love working there (there is a bit more to this coming up in the next point). I am not materialistic - my idea of a treat is a pair of new slippers. There are things I would like though, for example a new computer as mine is over ten years old and it's capabilities are losing pace with advancements in games and virtual worlds and my aspirations within those arenas. Once upon a time I would have not given a second thought to spending six hundred pounds on a new tower unit. Nowadays that is way beyond my reach.
The second stressor is volunteering at the charity shop. Despite loving it, I find it hard. I am used to being in control and in this role, I am not. I can see things that need work, things that need changing, things that should be stopped. I am, however, voiceless - just one of a number of volunteers. I am quite outspoken about some things and it hasn't gone down well with some of the staff. Comments such as "I have been here for x number of years and you come in wanting to change things" and "it's ONLY a charity shop" drive me mad. Some of them can't see that it is a shop that is required to make money like any other shop and the proceeds happen to go to charity. There is someone who is responsible for soft furnishings (but is only in for half a day every week) and someone responsible for the tombola (who is only in three half days every fortnight). Out of ten staff, there are only two people who steam and present clothes at their best. Again, it is a minority of staff who clean the bric-a-brac before putting it out for sale - things will go out on the shelves covered in dust, dirt or grease. Not everyone believes in pricing things clearly. I believe that whether you are paying two pounds or two hundred pounds, you are entitled to customer service. I don't believe that any customer should be subject to verbal abuse by a member of staff because of perceived events outside of the shop. I don't believe customers should be criticised for asking questions about goods. I don't believe that customers should be told to go elsewhere. The attitudes drive me mad - and they get away with it. I suppose I shouldn't care, but I always have done and I always will.
The worst thing about stress and depression for me is that it causes me to split in to two people who are polar opposites. My public persona becomes more exaggerated, more exuberant, more in your face. My private persona becomes more gloomy, more dark, more prone to harming myself. I can spend eight hours in the shop being perky and jolly and continuing in that vein when I get home (sometimes I have a cry before I pull out of the car park or drive the long way round while trying to balance my emotions). Eventually I will be alone - it may be ten o'clock at night - and then the darkness takes over me and I feel like going to sleep and never waking up again.
The longer it goes on, the harder I find it to reconcile the two halves of me. I worry that one day I won't be able to balance them and the darker side will win.
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