Manufactured okayness
/Like everyone else, I've spent the last year in a COVID hole - not going many places, not seeing many people, waiting and wondering when this would all be over. I've been on the same rollercoaster as much of the world and, certainly, most of the United States. Over this year period, we've seen so much in the news and in conversation about mental health and that we need to normalize talking about it. That conversation has been going on much longer than COVID, as it related to other topics as well. I've always agreed. And yet, I've kept quiet on my own. The tumult I've felt over the last year is nothing to be ashamed of or sweep under the rug. Likely, many can identify and empathize with, and sympathize, at a minimum.
As I start to see more people and reconnect, one of the first things they mention to me in the "what's COVID life been like for you?" conversation is how it feels without traveling like I used to. For 5 years with Olapic I did no less than 6 trips in a year and as many as 18, and the average was about 12. My last flight was February of 2020, for a multitude of reasons. At the end of March, 2020 I was notified I was on a list of 14 people, 2 of whom from the executive leadership team, that was to be let go. This was just 2 months after my most recent promotion. But COVID was here, quarantine had begun, and it was time to batten down the hatches on spending. The first blow of 2020 had arrived. I had given my all to that company, but the business of business is business. The double edged sword of success is the price tag to keep you when times are tight.
Being a binary, logic fueled, obsessive compulsive, computer brain, I immediately found a routine in my final month at quarantine-based Olapic and my new life thereafter. I woke up at the same time, ate the same thing for breakfast, and followed the same order of operations. While many woke up to confusion and hoping COVID was a 2-week blip on the timeline of history, I was ready for war in a sustainable way.
On April 15th, I said goodbye to my OlaFam, closed my laptop, and started a cleansing cycle of bourbon in and saline out while trying to figure what I could have done differently, to no avail.
I tell people I took the summer off to unwind after a 5 year sprint before going to back to work. The truth is that I had 56 conversations with a total of 29 different organizations between April and September before landing at H1, where I am now. The hits just kept on coming. And this wasn't 2013 again, where I had just left the military with a ton of experience, almost none of which was relevant to recurring revenue SaaS companies. This time I had the experience, chops, and title to write my own ticket. But COVID. In my research and conversations, I found the candidate pool was just too enormous for companies and recruiting agencies to navigate fully. I discovered 4 categories of applicant:
Out of work jobseeker (aka Me).
Unhappy, employed person who is always somewhat actively, somewhat passively looking.
Mostly happy employed person capitalizing on work from home to interview in secret.
Any of the above not collocated to the company/role, but learning that doesn't matter in COVID's America
So the pool had grown by over 2x. But don't forget the economic downturn which shrunk the hiring needs. We widened the funnel at the top and narrowed it at the bottom and I was stuck at the neck of it.
At the end of August, my offer letter came through from H1 and I was elated. I had a job. I had a job at a great company. I had a job at a great company doing what I do best. The starter pistol had rung out. With 2 weeks between signing the letter and sitting at my desk gainfully employed rather than wistfully searching, for the first time in months, I had work to do.
Linda and I rode the wave of excitement and income to Raymour and Flanigan for a basement refurbishment, the Apple store for new computers and laptops, Home Depot to finish painting the house, and Amazon for all the accoutrement belonging to the above. All the holes in my life had, seemingly, been patched up with one stroke of the digital pen at the bottom of my offer letter.
And then I started at H1. H1 is an amazing company, doing amazing things. It's also a rocket ship taking the medical data world by storm. I didn't know it yet, but I was less than 100% starting at an agile and, rightly, chaotic startup that needed me closer to 150%. It was a rocky start. Some of it was on me, some of it was a function of time in the company's journey. Together it was hard to get my bearings. And I had no commute to zone out to podcasts. I had no travel. I didn't even know anyone in person to be able to create real rapport and relationships with. We couldn't even unwind on weekend away or a simple dinner.
It all felt like extraneous situations on which I had a firm grasp. It wasn't me. It was the state of the world, right? I felt trapped by the world, not myself. I needed an escape. I needed to run free and see something other than my newly painted gray walls. So I bought a car. Well I ordered one. Retail therapy of the highest level that came with a bill of goods promising freedom and respite from the dumpster fire of 2020. I ordered my bright orange Go Mango, 2021 Dodge Challenger Scat Pack with every bell and whistle so I felt like I had a classic muscle car with today's conveniences. Surely, that was the solution. But as I waited and waited for the factory to painstakingly add every 1 of the 485 horses, my excitement turned to stress.
And then it was December. Job felt at risk, no car, and Christmas just weeks away and I felt like it was still September. Months had disappeared in front of me with nothing to show for it. It wasn't the world, was it? Well, maybe it was, but I wasn't adapting to it. My routine wasn't enough anymore or maybe I simply started too early. While everyone was holding their breath for open beaches by Memorial Day, I was already hunkered down. When everyone finally decided to settle in for a long winter's nap, post Labor Day, I was already burned out on my Groundhog Day routine.
So, I swallowed the pride I had no business having in the first place and called my doctor. I explained the rut I was in and that I needed help getting to a reasonable level to move through this, hopefully transient, shitshow of a situation in the world. He prescribed Effexor in mid-level dose. Enough to feel it, but room to play with the level as needed. He chose this drug because it's designed to turn down the volume on anxiety and stress while putting some pep in your step. I felt no change for 4-5 days. Then I felt all the side effects. Then... I felt nothing. No stress, no anxiety. It didn't make me happy, bouncy, unnaturally chipper. It just made me feel like the old me again.
I've been taking it ever since and feel better than I have for a long time. Will this just be a bridge loan of okayness until pandemic isn't a word we say 274 times per day or permanent? Time will tell. But I've finally admitted the usefulness of supplemental medication and that there's no reason to hide from it. We've all been through the wringer in the last 12-13 months (as of this writing). Realizing a worldwide pandemic is bigger than your current toolset isn't weakness or an issue. The issues stem from not realizing it.
I'm not advocating for medicine, necessarily. I'm advocating for an internal inventory so everyone can build the right toolset to navigate our difficult and complex word.