
In September 2009 I got a good job: teaching English at a school I liked, with lovely pupils, good working conditions and a good pay check. I also had a lot of private students asking for me to tutor them and I was really excited. It would be the first year I had a real job with a full schedule and a steady income.
Except it wasn't.
In October 2009 I started feeling strange: I was ill-humoured and angry all the time, I had fewer and fewer patience for the little ones, I began losing interest in preparing my lessons and, even though I slept a lot, I was always tired.
In November I began crying. Getting out of bed in the morning was awful, and by the time I sat down to eat breakfast I was already crying and dreading the day ahead. Then my fiancée usually woke up and then I would say that everything was OK, we would rush ourselves out of the house, almost always already late, and go to work. And at work I cried too: I cried when I went to the toilet, before lessons and, by the end of the month, even during one lesson while listening to
Boulevard of Broken Dreams by Green Day.
I talked to my fiancée and, together, we came to the conclusion that it was all because of stress and too much work, and if I could make it to the Christmas holidays, then the two weeks of absolutely nothing to do but enjoy the season would make me better again. And so I held on.
Christmas came and went.
In the middle of January I came home after my first morning lesson, as I usually did, to grab a quick snack and a cup of coffee before the next lesson. I ate a biscuit, drank my coffee, put on my coat, grabbed my briefcase and my purse and said goodbye to my mum. I opened the front door. And then I realised I couldn't move. Tears started falling down my face and I went back to the kitchen and said something like "I don't think I can go."
Everything else is blurred in my mind. I remember the hyperventilating, the uncontrollable shaking, the desperate crying, the cold and the feeling of danger.
That was my first panic attack.
Since then I've been medicated with antidepressants, antipsychotics and anxiolytics.First I was diagnosed with a nervous breakdown, then with depression. I didn't leave my house for a month. I stayed at home the rest of the school year, tutoring only a few students, struggling with a lot of panic attacks and my fear of leaving the house.
In July the school year was over, and so was the possibility of me going back to work. Suddenly I started feeling better, started going and eating out again, started being normal again. It was a great summer. I felt cured.
But I wasn't. I started teaching again this September, October was okay but already kind of strange, and in November I started going down again. I thought I had a problem, since I was only sick when I had to work outside of the house.
Now, and only now, almost a year later, I discovered that I have ergophobia. Not laziness, not lack of will to work, but a disease, a phobia, as real as any other.
But I feel alone. Only a few people try to understand me, but because they don't know what it feels like, they don't really get it. I'm still working, but today my battery is officially low. I cancelled my classes today and probably will cancel them next week. Again I trust that this Christmas will make a difference.
Can someone help me?
Is there anyone out there who has this and that can tell me something comforting?
Please, if you have ergophobia or you think you do, talk to me.Maybe you can help me, maybe I can help you.
xxoo
Diana