"Instructions Weren't Clear," by Desiree

“You need to go on a stress leave.” Those were the words that started it all. Wanting to die wasn’t new but someone finally acknowledging that I’m at breaking point was. That another could see that relief was necessary for me was unique and novel. Simultaneously a sigh of relief and the gasp in response – this could not be possible. I couldn’t possibly take a break, every other attempt made it clear this couldn’t be a realistic option. Yet now the professionals were saying it was the only option or I wouldn’t make it through the day. Asking so many questions as I always do, thinking that I need to be fully prepared of what my next steps would be and the next intention on getting back as quick as possible since I couldn’t get out of this. These instructions merely got me through the day, but as we are now a year passed – I repetitively had no idea what was coming my way. Clarification was continuously requested along the way but led astray was my reality. The complications of systems and policies, that drag out the process instead of extending a hand up and out of the darkness. A series of one step forward, ten steps back – requiring one to get sicker before we will help. I understand why it’s called a stress leave as my absence has only brought more tension and pressure. There’s no way to go back or return, so I continue trying to move forward without a clue where I’m headed.