How I Left Work

Sara, over at "My Sad Alter Ego", posed a couple questions to me in the comment section of my last post.

She asked:
"...do you have a post on here about when/how you decided you needed to stop working? How do you get to that point, and more importantly, how do you know when you do? I always am wondering this. "

I do have some information willy-nilly throughout my postings, but nothing in one post. I will try to provide my experiences about trying to leave work in this one post.

First, some background about me. It is important to know who I am, because it plays into the difficulty I had leaving work. I am a worker. My entire life I identified myself as a worker. I AM what I do. Even when I worked at a fast food restaurant in high school, or was a chambermaid when I first left home. I always work exceedingly hard and take pride in what I do. Even when I hate my job/s I always give 160% plus. So leaving work was an incredibly tough decision, and remains a difficult and guilt ridden decision for me. That being the case, it was imperative that I leave work. I would have killed myself if I had not.

Second, I joined the organization I worked for out of university, because I had acquired a huge debt load going to university. I am terrified of ending up homeless, or having absolutely no money. This has much to do with my parents divorce and the subsequent difficulties my Mom had finding a job and affording to live the first few years after my Dad left. I would say I have phobia of being jobless, homeless and penniless. Because of these "phobias, I took a job that had nothing to do with what I was educated in. I cried almost everyday on my way to work for the first few years. I knew I had "made a deal with the devil" to pay my bills.

Third, As I stayed with the company, because of my work ethic and my creativity I began to work my way up the corporate ladder and started to move into corporate teaching. The money became better and better, the challenges more exciting and I found my real love was teaching. The problem was I did not fit into a bureaucratic organization. The structure and bureaucracy were overwhelming and soul sucking.

The problem was, by the time I recognized this I was making so much money that for the first time in my life I felt fairly recognized financially. I am definitely not a material person. It was not material goods I was seeking. It was "financial safety"
Also, I had experienced several depressive episodes, and began having anxiety attacks partly due to, and I would suggest increasingly due to, some of the organizational behaviour I was experiencing within the company. My self esteem was getting worse and worse and the "financial security" I felt I was experiencing was not true.

The problem was in the corporation I worked for there was no such thing as financial, or job, security. I believe, and I still believe, that the organization had a "plot" at it's core. The plot was to make every employee believe they were expendable so each employee would work harder. You may think this sounds like paranoia, but the company would restructure jobs and positions and departments, and lay off people so often, yet pretty much keep everything the same and then hire new people after all the kerfuffle, that it really seemed like they were trying to bully people into working harder.

Bullying terrifies me and I spent almost the whole time I worked there afraid I would lose my job, and for good reason. The organization restructured and cancelled positions I worked in on a regular basis and then made me "apply" for the new...almost identical job. The underlying message was always that I may not be the successful applicant. I stayed though because of my financial phobias, but also because in the last 6 or 7 years the jobs I took were so interesting at least 1/2 of the time.

So... After several MDE's that lasted months, to up to two years, with some stretched of good times in between, in 2001 I became more depressed than I had ever been. For the first time in my life, despite seeing several therapists and my family doctor finally trying to prescribe anti-depressants, I was finally referred to a pdoc, because nothing was helping me. That was in 2001.
I spent once a week going to therapy with him. We tried several medications while I was working. I became more and more despondent. It was increasingly hard to work while trying to find medication/s to help me. I had been having a lot of suicidal ideation the entire time, but by 2002 and early 2003 the ideation was turning into clear plans, and was getting worse and worse and more violent. Dr. X and I discussed my leaving work over and over, but he never pushed, because he knew work, even though it was stressful and much of it was not "me". There was a huge part that helped me thrive.

In early 2002, through to 2003 my job position was restructured, and I was forced to apply for the newly developed positions each time. I managed, despite increasing depression, because in the building I worked in there were approximately 400 people I knew very well, having trained most of them. I had a really tight group of people I worked with, my boss was amazingly supportive, I was allowed to lower my work week to four days which seemed to let some pressure off as I could sleep/wind down for 3 days on the weekend.

In late 2003 I applied for and received a new (read old) job. It was highly stressful and included travelling and working with upper management, executives and the V.P. I was told to move to a building where I knew know one except my boss. Suddenly I was extremely isolated and so stressed out I began planning my suicide. I planned to hang myself in the handicap washroom (because I could lock the door). Everyday I would go to the bookstore near my work and look for books on how to commit suicide. I would surf the net at work trying to find ways to commit suicide. I walked into my coffee shop before work one day and the band Nirvana was playing on the t.v. screen. I was sure Kurt Cobain was telling me to commit suicide. After many weeks of this increasingly suicidal ideation I managed to tell Dr. X what was happening.

In that appointment he said: "what do you need to leave work? What forms need to be filled out? I will fill them out right now and we can fax them." I declined. Work was so busy and I cared so much for my boss. I could see she was overwhelmed and I could not leave her in a lurch.

That week I almost (purposely) stepped out in front of an oncoming bus. The only thing that stopped me was my compassion for how the driver would feel. The thoughts and plans of hanging myself became unbearable and obsessive. On top of that, I suddenly stopped comprehending anything at work. It was as though my work was written in some other language. I also became increasingly afraid to interact with people at work. Literally, so afraid, to the point of that I became increasingly paranoid that everyone was out to hurt me, or make me feel stupid, embarrass me, or that they were ridiculing and talking about me behind my back. I sat there almost all day, crying, distraught and unable to do anything.

Then I had a dream. I wrote about it in the post "Transformational Dreams" People who have followed my blog know that I take some of my dreams very seriously. Some of the most important revelations in my life have come out of dreams. This was one that told me to leave work.

The dog in the dream, the one I first kicked and then later saved from drowning had the exact strawberry blond colour hair as me. I was the dog I was kicking and watching drown. I had to be the person who saved myself. At first I heard the messages in the dream. Then a few weeks later I listened to, and acted on the messages.

The next appointment I had with Dr. X asked me if I thought the whole gigantic corporations was going to collapse if I left? Suddenly, I saw the absurdity in my fear of leaving the organization. There would always be someone to step in and do my job. Dr. X told me I needed to tell my boss exactly the types of thoughts I was having. It would be hard to say, and harder for her to hear, but she needed to understand how sick I was.

Three weeks prior I had made an attempt to tell my boss I needed to leave work due to my illness. She felt I simply had to much work on my shoulders and volunteered to hire a previous, trusted coworker to help me. I thought that might be a viable solution, so we tried it. It did not help. My thoughts of suicide did not dissipate. I was too sick to keep working.

The next three weeks I slept all weekend, every 3 day weekend. The second I got home I went to bed. My body was shutting itself down.

So I wrote in my journal: : "I will tell [my boss] I have to leave work tomorrow" (Monday). I wrote exactly what I was going to say over and over and over. I got to work and thought I was going to throw up. I couldn't do it. I tried to push myself again the next day. Couldn't do it. The next day I was determined. I walked in the door straight up to my boss. I told her I needed to talk with her privately. I sat down and then I told her I was going to commit suicide if I did not leave work. I told her about all my thoughts and that my pdoc was insisting I leave work.

She seemed really mad at me, and I was devastated. She wouldn't talk with me all day. She was one of my favourite co-workers and I had so much respect for her. I was devastated.

The next day at lunch I sat down beside her and apologized for having to leave. I told her I cared so much for her and the work, but I needed to protect myself. I said I was very sad she was mad at me. She began to cry. She said she was not mad, she was afraid she would never see me again. We both cried. I promised her she would see me again. I left two days later thinking I was just taking a few weeks off. However, I remained, and remain, to ill to return to my workplace.

On top of everything else I had so much external which made it an easier transition (albeit still year and a half decision). My pdoc was and has remained, unconditionally supportive. My Mom, when she was alive, and my sister's were very supportive and pushing for me to take care of me. Also, my workplace also has a Long Term Disability program, and I qualified for my country's disability program. Knowing my financial situation was going to remain stable until I was able to work again helped me take the leap and leave to take care of myself.It was the most difficult decision I ever had to make. It was life changing. I have spent many, many hours thinking I did the wrong thing. I know however, that I would not have survived had I stayed a week longer. I was too sick.

That was in early 2003. Five and a half years later I still struggle with wanting to work, but slowly I am learning to believe I am building a life that is better for me. I would never have discovered my love for art, or that I could draw, let alone that I was a good drawing instructor. I would never have learned that I loved to paint. Had I not made the decision to leave work I know I would either be dead, or even more severely depressed than I have been (I cannot imagine what that would look like?).

The pressures and responsibilities of work were incompatible with working towards becoming more emotionally resilient. It took a long time for me to get beyond the loss of my work, I still have moments where I feel guilty about having to leave, but I know now, in my heart, it was the only decision I could have made. The dream I had a couple weeks ago: "The Wolf Returns" reinforced, I am hoping for good, that I made the right decision. The recent dream told me my old life is over. It has ended. It is time to look forward. The black wolf in the dream ended my old life. My new white puppy is the beginning of my new, improved, and desired life.

Until leaving work I have never, ever had the opportunity to learn what I loved to do, to actually decide what it is I want to do. Leaving work woke me up to a difficult and terrifying existential search; an existential journey that has challenged my inner being to the question "Who am I". I am not sure about that answer yet, but I know the answer is important to my well being. My leaving work allowed me the opportunity to move closer towards the discovery of who I am and who I am meant to be. These have been questions I have struggled with since I was a small girl. These are the most important questions in my life and I know the answers will be the biggest catalysts towards wellness I will ever achieve.

Sara, I hope you are able to take care of you better than I was able to take care of me. Your health is more important than any job in the world. Without your health you have nothing. That much I know.

Why Didn't I...

I slept most of the day yesterday. I just do not want to be here. I'm too tired and everything is too hard to do. I cancelled going to a drop in writing class today, because I just don't want to see anyone.

Yesterday, as I tried to sleep, my puppy would curl up beside me on the bed. The bad thoughts would come. I tried really hard to speak lovingly to my puppy, tell him how much I loved him, pet him, feel how soft and velvety his floppy ears feel, sense the warmness of him laying next to me. I tried every time the thoughts came to fill my mind with thoughts of love, and caring, but the thoughts both wouldn't go away, and then began to challenge me:

Why didn't you get your oldest niece to call 911? The police would have stopped the dog attack?

Why didn't you take a stick and poke the attacking dog/s in the eyes, or ears, or some other vulnerable place? That would have stopped the attack.

Why didn't you run up to the house and grab the axe? Why didn't you hit the attackers with the axe? That would have stopped the attack.

Honestly, even if I had the presence of mind to think of those things during the attack, I do not think I could have maimed or hurt the attackers. I didn't want the dogs hurt, I just wanted the attack to stop. I couldn't have killed, or maimed them, anymore than I could permanently harm a human. When I was hitting them, and throwing rocks at them I was trying to stun them, or distract them so they let go of the puppy.

Yet beyond the initial playback of the attack, over and over in my mind, is the feeling and playback of criticisms in my head that I did not do enough to protect and help the puppy; that as a caregiver I did not live up to my responsibilities to protect my sister's children and her dogs.

Some of it was my fear. The dogs were huge and powerful Husky/Akita/Wolf cross dogs weighing appox. 150 lbs each. Also, the fence where the attack was taking place was short...only 4 feet tall. The dogs were almost as tall. I was scared they would jump the fence and attack me, or grab me if I tried to go into their yard and haul them off the puppy. My first thought should have been to protect the ones in my care. I should have done more.

I think the thoughts keep coming, because in my life I never have been afraid of dogs. I always felt I would be in charge if a dog became vicious. I had been around large police dogs my whole life. There was a sense of complete panic and helplessness during the attack that I cannot get over. It has affected my sense that I have the ability to protect my puppy. I love him so much I feel terror that I might lose him because of a mistake I might make.

All Over the Map

I had my session with Dr. X. this a.m. It was one of those sessions where I felt like I had too many things to talk about so everything just gets touched but nothing gets filled out; like sharing an outline to a long essay, but the things that are really important are in the details of the essay. The outline outline just glances over the topics.

I wish I were more controlled, or focused in my sessions. I feel like sometimes I try to address to much and end up addressing nothing in depth. To mix my metaphors, it is like I tell Dr. X about all the all the leaves of a tree, when I should be focused on one branch, get that out of the way and move to the next branch. How do you do that when so many things impact your daily living? Fifty minutes feels like enough time to lay everything out, but not enough time to work through things.

I'm being really negative because I feel that way right now, but Dr. X and I did work on a few things that I hope I can get over.

1) One thing that we talked about, and I think will help me is troubles I have been having with intense "flashbacks", "reenactments" or "reliving" my sister's puppy being attacked last year. I will be holding my puppy, who, by the way, I have become intensely loving towards and bonded too. I hold him, and the whole dog attack scenario comes back to me.

I hear the awful "screaming" puppy sounds and the raging barking of her helpless dog companion. I feel like I'm in the mud with my soaked sock feet. I can smell the musty smell of mossy wood dirt and dog shit everywhere. I am on my knees and they are caked and soaked in that muddy stench.

I am holding the back end of the puppy, praying the huge dogs will let go of her neck and for an instant, stop pulling her through the wires of the fence. I hold her haunches and tug a bit, so if the dogs let go I can pull her quickly back through the fence. I feel terror in me that the dogs are going to rip her head of, right in front of me. I stop pulling, because that is all I see.

I pick up massive boulders, as heavy as I can lift, I've been fighting for almost 10 minutes right now, and the puppy is getting weak. I can see here being dragged farther and farther through the fence, but she is still fighting. I know, if she stop fighting, her muscles will relax and the giant
dogs will rip her through the hole in the fence.

I hear children screaming and turn to see my little nieces running towards the attack. I am intensely scared the large dogs will be triggered by the little children running and jump the 4
foot fence and chase the kids. I am also afraid the kids will be traumatized if they see what is happening to their small puppy. They are half way down the hill screaming at me, asking what is happening. I turn around and scream at them as loudly as I can: "get back in the house, lock the door and do not go near the windows. Do not open the door until I ask you to".

I know the patio doors are easily pushed open if not locked. I am afraid those big dogs will head towards the house and the children. My nieces are scared and crying, they run back to the house. I don't know what else to do. I have to save the dog, and protect the kids.

I lift the boulder above my head and I lob it as hard as I can at the male dog who is clamped down, biting on the scruff of the puppiy's neck and trying to drag her through the fence. The heavy boulder hits his skull, but he doesn't even flinch. The giant dogs are in a frenzy. I can't stop them from trying to kill the puppy. I have been hitting them over and over with boulders and giant sticks; trying to make them stop, much of the time I am down at the fence trying to stop this awful attack

I feel weak. My adrenaline is there, but it seems to be fighting against me now. I can't think anymore. I don't know what to do. I can't think of how else to help the puppy. I give up; collapsing on the ground. Suddenly, the owner of the big dogs comes around he corner and calls off her dogs.

The puppy collapses. Her blood is everywhere. She can't move and I am so exhausted. She weighs about 30-40 lbs. I pick her up and start running up the hill with her, towards the house. I collapse at the bottom of the stairs. She is too heavy for me. I am too tired. Even when she is out of the jaws of the dogs I feel helpless I am going to let her die.

I get a burst of energy and pick her up and bring her into the house. Blood is dripping everywhere. I don't know what to do. My nieces, 4 and 7, who I am babysitting, are screaming in horror. I don't want them to see all the blood. I want them to believe the puppy will be okay. I put the puppy in the mudroom and shut the door, call the vet, tell them I have an emergency, the vet was about to leave for the day, but her and her assistant wait for us to come. What do I do with the kids? How am I going to explain this to my sister?

I call my sister, who is skiing, I tell her what happened. Someone knocks at the door. It is the big dog's owner. She asks if I want her to stay with the kids. My sister says that is okay and that she will meet me in town at the vets.

I pick the puppy up. She is in extreme shock. She is still bleeding. For some reason I don't have the brains to wrap her neck in a towel, or try somehow to stop the bleeding. All I can think is get to the vet, get to the vet, get to the vet.

I only have my sister's brand new car. Oh God now what do I do? There will be blood everywhere. I throw an old blanket in the back seat and pray she will just lay there. The fucking cars on the highway are going so slow and every single light in town is red. The dog is going to die. I am not going to get it to the vet. It will die before I can get there. I am so scared.

I manage to get her to the vet. She is almost dead. I watch as the vet tries to stabilize her and I can't stop weeping and bawling, and shaking.I am so frightened. Within minutes my sister shows up.

I am so ashamed that I let this happen, that I wasn't able to stop the attack, that I didn't notice it happening for at least 2-3 minutes before I intervened. I heard the weird dog sounds in the yard, but I thought it was her and her brother playing, until I looked through the balcony doors and saw the neighbours dogs attacking her.

I hold my new puppy, who is the same breed of dog, but a bit smaller than my sister's puppy was then, and this whole scenario keeps playing and slipping into my mind. I am terrified something will happen to him, something I won't be able to stop, or save him from.

Dr. X. and I discussed this today. He said I may not be able to stop the thoughts, but maybe I can bring more welcome, or nicer thoughts into the times these thoughts start happening. Thoughts like how adorable the puppy is, how much I love him and care for him, etc. I am going to try to do that. It sounds like a reasonable and perhaps an easier way to stop the awful thoughts than trying to force them out of my mind.

2) Take vitamins. No potato chips and cocoa beans are not
vegetables. My food intake is really, really awful right now. Pepperoni and
cheese for dinner. Prepackaged food, kraft dinner, no veggies.

"I take too many pills", I protest.

"You need to take more", is his response. "I will get you some samples".

"but I have all the vitamins at home and don't take them".

"These ones are from me", he says.

I understand, things from him have magical qualities. I accept them and say thank you.

3) I tell Dr. X. I dread leaving the house. I dread going anywhere. Even my friend I saw yesterday, who I really like, until I actually saw her it seemed like so much effort to leave the house and do something. Once I saw her I enjoyed myself.

Dr. X: "Do you dread coming here?"

Me: (in my head thinking I look forward to coming here. In fact, I can't wait for my session most weeks. Often it seems like Thursday will never come soon enough), but I don't express exactly how important my sessions are to me, because that seems sick and twisted. Instead I say " "No, I don't dread coming here. I look forward to my sessions. You are the one person I feel really understands me".

I do feel like it is weird how much I value my sessions. Like there is something pathological in how attached I feel to Dr X. He is so important to me that I cannot even express it in words. On Thursdays I know that for 50 minutes I can be exactly who and how I am at any given moment and still feel respected and cared for. That's what it is. It's very close to the way I felt about being with my Mom when she was alive: accepted, cared for, valued, in spite of my all my problems

The Wolf Returns

(Photo by Aqua, Grey Wolf at Grouse Mountain)


I could not both get to sleep and stay asleep on Wednesday night. My anxiety is increasing and with that my sleep is getting worse again. I slept in snippets of a half hour here, and an hour there. After a pattern of waking and sleeping I woke at 4:30am and finally must have fallen asleep sometime between 6 and 7:00am, because I had an awful nightmare right before waking to go see my pdoc.

I dreamt my two sisters and I climbed towards the top of a mountain. The final climb was a set of stairs that zig-zagged up to the top of the mountain. Atop the mountain was a huge modern building, not unlike the building I used to work in.

We went inside and instantaneously I began being attacked by 3 coyotes who were trying to bring me to the ground so their big, pure black wolf companion could finish me off. I was trying to protect my sisters, but none of the canines seemed interested in them. The coyotes kept grabbing my hands and arms, and trying to attack my head; kept trying to force me to the ground. All the while the black wolf was stalking me, waiting for me to slip to the ground so he could pounce on me. I kept fighting back, calling to my sisters to help. It appeared no one would help me.

Suddenly I looked up and my sisters were behind a counter with the coyotes on the other side. My siblings were negotiating our release with the coyotes and offering them food in return for our safe escape. The coyotes agreed and told my sisters to leave through one door and me to leave through another a bit farther down the hall.

I saw my sister's safely on the outside of the building, but as I went to go out my door I saw the black wolf standing on the other side of the glass door; waiting to kill me. The coyotes told me to open the door and let the wolf in, quickly slip out and slam the door shut.

I did what they said, and the wolf slipped in, and I out. However, as I shut the door I quickly realized that the door opened outwards and it would be easy for the wolf to simply push the door open and come after me. I saw my sisters had disappeared and knew they were safe.

I began to run in terror. The wolf pushed the door open and began chasing me down the stairs. I was running so fast my feet were not touching the stairs. I was hanging onto the handrail and leaping from stair landing to stair landing. Each landing was 6 stairs apart. I was becoming dizzy from the switchback like staircase. I misjudged one of the landings and flew over the railing and into the abyss of the mountain gorge below.

The wolf followed me, but I was dead before he got to me.

I woke absolutely terrified.

Interpretation ideas?

The Coyotes: They are trickster figures. Figures who, in North American First Nations mythology, facilitate our seeing the lighter side of life, who sometimes have noble purposes, but also sometimes are playing with us and can be cruel. They represent the uncertainty of life, the uncertainty of the direction life can take us. They can bring light to dark situations (in fact the Raven...a trickster figure in Westcoast First Nation's mythology tricked a princess into opening a box that contained the sun, thereby releasing light into the world. ("The Raven Stealing the Sun" myth).

I run into coyotes on our farm all the time. They are a symbol of hope for me. They seem to appear when I am desperately depressed and need a reminder that I can survive this illness. It seems strange that they seemed to be doing the opposite in my dream..trying to facilitate my death. Although maybe my death is the only hope I have?

Or maybe they are referencing my being saved by a symbolic death? The death of my old life; the life I keep clinging to, the life that drags into feeling guilty for the new life I am trying to make for myself? My change from doing what I think is right, into having a life filled with doing what I WANT to do.

I know in the dream I wanted to survive. I fought and fought when the coyotes were trying to bring me down (but maybe I was fighting there lesson to allow my symbolic death, my important change, to happen. I ran hard from the wolf to try to save myself. It just did not work. I died anyways...and not even from the wolf, from a mistake I made. (my misjudgement of where the stair's landing was.

The Wolf: He has never appeared to me as pure black before. Throughout the dream I knew and felt it was symbolically important that he was pure black. He was impending doom, stealth and pure fear. He was patient in his efforts to bring me down. He waited, not once interrupting the coyotes efforts to drag me to the ground. He was over confident that he would succeed in killing me one way or another.

Dr. X and I discussed my dream. He said I needed to challenge the wolf. I get that, but what is it I am supposed to challenge? What does the wolf represent? If it is death, that is an inevitability...it would be futile. It could be my depression...but I don't know how to challenge it any more than I do. This dream is haunting me. It is telling me something. It feels so important. I cannot stop thinking about it.

Maybe the challenge is to STOP challenging the inevitability of real death (and the impending fear attached to that that comes from feeling like I will not achieve what I need to achieve, (.i.e. death anxiety) which is the cause of much of my life's anxiety and I think my depression. I fear I will not complete my purpose on earth.

Maybe the challenge is to ACCEPT my symbolic death, the death of my previous life, the fact that I am changed by my depression, by the difficult experiences I have encountered with each Major Depressive Episode...especially this latest one. I am changed. My old life is dead. Let it go. Move on bravely to my new life.

The wolf is black, because unlike all the other frightening wolves in my dreams who chase me and try to kill me and never quite succeed; this wolf succeeded, and the death of my old life is FINAL.

Recurring Nightmare

My latest painting. I have no title yet. It represents a nightmare I have over and over again, where I am being chased through the woods and some kind of post apocolyptic landscape full of broken down buildings and homes, tons of rubble and cement everywhere.

I run, and I run all the while screaming help me, help me! My husband and Dad stand off at the side and watch. No one tries to help me.

Finally, in desperation I climb up onto a big peice of cement to try to save myself, but I fall. The wolf is snarling and on top of me. He is foaming at the mouth and he is about to bite my head or neck and I always wake up at this point absolutely terrified.

When I wake I can't tell if it was a dream, or real. Usually I have to go to the bathroom upon waking, but I am too scared to get out of bed. It usually takes me a couple minutes or more before I calm down, realize it is a dream and am able to climb out of bed.

Two Wolves

Last Sunday I went with two friends to a local Community Centre to participate in something called "The Remarkable Women's Poster Project". We each brought a photo of someone we considered to be a remarkable woman and made a poster of that woman. These poster's will be on display at the Community Centre to celebrate National Woman's Month in October. I did one of my Mom.

If you can believe it my best friend did one of me. It was so beautiful. With my permission she "outed" me as a person with a mental illness. Her caption below my photo read: "My Name. Still living. Yeah!" I felt honoured that she chose me as a remarkable woman. Thanks "H".

At the Community Centre there was a poster pinned to the wall with a fable written on it. I do not really subscribe to the pejorative nature of the descriptions of evil in the poster. I am not even certain I believe in "good" or "evil".

I also recognize that Major Depression is the instigator of many of the "evil" symptoms below, but I also think that despite being severely depressed I can push a tiny bit to rid myself of ego and it's soul impairing accoutrements.

Given my propensity to dream about wolves and to cross paths with coyotes the poster captured my eye. This is what it said:

"Two Wolves:

One evening an old Cherokee told his grandson about a battle that goes on inside people. He said, "My son, the battle is between two 'wolves' inside us all.

One is Evil.
It is anger, envy, jealousy, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority and ego.

The other is Good.
It is joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion and faith.

The grandson thought about it for a minute and then asked his grandfather,"Which wolf wins?"

The old Cherokee replied, "The one you feed". "

I am so afraid my improved mood and my new found capacity to participate in life will be taken from me; that my mood will disappear into anguish, like it always does. I am trying so hard to feed the "good" wolf, but am terrified that the "evil" wolf gently slips back into my mind unnoticed. I am trying hard to remain vigilant and push forward while I feel well. The thought of returning to the place from whence I came terrifies me.

Wolf in People's Clothing

I have been having vividly realistic and frightening dreams over the past few weeks. In a few of them I have been violently violated and I swear I can feel the pain and the sensations and smells from the dream sequence seem to linger when I wake up. When I do wake I am absolutely terrified. Last night I again had a nightmare. It wasn't about being raped, but it was nonetheless terrifying.

I dreamt I was in my house. The house had an open design with windows everywhere. I went outside and out of the corner of my eye I caught a glimpse of a huge black and grey wolf. I was scared and went back in the house, but I thought I might have imagined it.

It was after dinner and my dog Bert had to taken for a walk. I started to take him. He peed, but as I was about to take him farther a wolf stepped out of the woods. I put the lead on Bert, and, even though I knew the walk was important, I backed up and quickly went into the house.

It was dark, the house was now an office of the huge corporation I worked for before I became too ill to work. The windows and sliding glass doors were wide open. I glimpsed a gigantic (3X normal size) wolf. It's hackles were up and it was snarling and vicious. I ran and locked the door, closed and locked the windows and sliding glass door, but I was terrified it was going to break through the glass. I started to close the blinds, hoping the blinds would create the illusion of a more solid wall, rather than a window.

Two more wolves came snarling out of the trees. At the same time I heard someone say Lila had gone outside. I was terrified and yelled, "get her back in here". I ran to the back door and started letting people in - but I knew the wolves were coming.

I started counting down from 10 and was going to permanently lock the doors when I reached 1. I reached 1. People were pouring in, but I knew the wolves could shape shift and was afraid some of the last people would be wolves.

As I reached the #1 I went to slam and lock the door and simultaneously I looked down and saw a set of clothes crumpled on the floor. I knew there was at least one wolf inside the building. I woke from the dream absolutely terrified. Heart racing, sweating and afraid to get out of bed for at least 2-3 minutes.

I have had these wolf dreams before and they are always so frightening. Usually the wolf has me pinned to the ground and is growling ferociously in my face, about to tear me to shreds, when I finally wake.

What was the dream about?

1. Before I fell asleep I had been thinking of returning to work part time...the wolf could represent the job that terrified me, filled me with anxiety and depression and threatened to kill me (via suicide).
2. The wolf could be my LTD insurance company as I am so at odds with being paid for being ill from a job that I know I cannot return to , even if I become well...because I will become ill again.
3. I had been thinking of how I could survive on my government disability...about the hidden costs of giving up my employer's disability...the cost of my medications for example (the wolves were hidden in the woods, kept appearing magically and disappearing in the same way)
4. I was thinking about how I haven't been depressed (but instead extremely anxious, irritable and not sleeping) for 3 weeks, no depression = a return to work...but would I survive that?
5. I was thinking about my depression disappearing, reappearing, the unpredictable nature of the course of this illness and how it makes it hard to make a decision to quit work, try something new, or return to work, or stay off work and on disability. The wolves in my dream are unpredictable like this...magically transforming, disappearing, reappearing etc.
6. Lila...I once knew a girl named Lila who went on to become a camp counsellor and saved a six year old from being dragged out of camp by a cougar. Lila is also my g.p's name.
7. I had been thinking about what Dr. X. thinks about what I am able to do, or should be doing now that my mood is better. Of course, my first thought is he thinks I need to work...and that scares me because I am afraid I won't stay feeling better.
8. I think all the glass in the house and the corporate office represent people watching me, tracking me, judging me...my old fear of being spied on and seen to be more competent than I feel...and in the end forced to go back to work before I am well.
9. Shape shifting wolves: again...my fear of those around me (Dr. X., husband, insurance company, company etc.) transforming into the enemy and forcing my hand when it comes to working.
   

Coyote on the farm...telling me to act differently than I usually do. Be unafraid of change.