Putting On A Face

I didn’t wear make-up at all until I was 27. I tried to put some on when I was around 13 but it didn’t look right and made my skin itch, it was awfully expensive and my mum didn’t wear any, plus all my friends were boys so I couldn’t ask them for tips, lipstick and hiking through the bush or skateboarding just didn’t seem to go together.

My teenage love life consisted of “drunk or stoned at a party sex” rather than prettying myself up for dates, I was fat for much of high school and not desirable to anyone sober, then when I lost weight and school boys began to take notice of me I was too involved in my eating disorder and working on my latest out-there manic project to have time for much else.

The 30yr old boyfriend I had when I was 16 did take me out on dates, but he never mentioned my lack of make-up, I was vegan at the time and definitely against animal testing so he probably thought that was part of it, there weren’t as many cruelty free products available back then.

My husband has always told me that I am perfect just the way I am and I don’t need to wear “Clown Paint”, it’s not even him just being nice, he really doesn’t like the stuff at all, in fact he was sending out death stares to my 16yr old niece when she put a little bit of lip stick and eye shadow on my 7yr old daughter on Christmas day!

At age 27 I was hypomanic, motivated and keen to get a full time ‘real’ job, I had been working in a pet store since I was 14yrs old. I landed a position in the public service where pretty nails and make up was simply expected. Suddenly I found myself in the world of manicures, eyelash tinting, brow waxing and was wearing make up every week day, my hypomania was ramping up and so was my eating disorder. A wardrobe of size XS nice work clothes, having my hair styled and wearing make-up made me feel pretty for the first time in my life.

I remember thinking that if only I had worn make up and had my hair done in high school, maybe boys would have looked at me a whole lot differently. Suddenly wearing make up to work became wearing it every day if I was leaving the house, then everyday if I was likely to get a glance at my own reflection.

Skirts, heels and cosmetics had become my mask and I felt hideous without them.

On one occasion I was off work as my hypomania and anxiety were causing problems and Hubby had to give me a lift into town for a therapist appointment. I woke up late and didn’t have time to put my face on or straighten my hair. I was beside myself. I had a panic attack and literally cried the entire hour long journey into town, then I ended up taking hubbies car and going to a shop and spending over $150 on new cosmetics that I applied in the bathroom at the mall, $100 on a new outfit and then went to a hairdresser and got a $200 cut & colour. 

I had spent nearly $500 I couldn't afford just so I could go to the appointment looking “good” and prove that I wasn’t too manic to work.

Shortly after this incident my mania peaked and landed me in hospital, where I was absolutely horrified that I would not be able to use a flat iron, run on a treadmill or wear make-up, I recall that I kept apologising to the other inmates for being so ugly and telling them that I normally wasn’t THIS bad, I just needed my face on and my straightener, promise!

The depression that came after that long manic episode drained me of energy and caused me to gain around 15kg but I continued using make-up for quite a while purely as a front when I went to work, when I wore it people thought I was doing well, they thought I was ‘normal’. I ran into a colleague at the shop on the weekend once, I was wearing shabby jeans, a now too tight T shirt and a naked face.

He took a step back and said “Woah, I nearly didn’t recognise you, you know without all your make up on!” I just laughed and said “Yeah pretty scary huh!” but I was nearly dying inside, my fears were confirmed I was fat, ugly, stupid and too lazy to even make myself recognisable. The depression got worse and I stopped going to work, stopped leaving the house and stopped wearing make-up altogether. It didn’t matter anymore; I was a lost cause.

After my suicide attempt and subsequent two months in the psych ward I returned home and eventually opened up my cosmetics bag again, Hubby was unimpressed “what do you want to wear that crap for? You aren’t working and you were pretty much fine until you started wearing all that stuff” he would say. He seemed to think that my wearing of make-up was to blame for my mania rather than the other way around.

When I was stable I started working again part time I wore make up to work but it didn’t own me anymore. Depression hit again, milder this time but I decided to quit my job for good. We didn’t suit each other. I am now back in a part time position in the pet store that is a big part of my soul, animals and fake nails are impractical, I have a uniform so I don’t have to worry about what outfit to wear. I don’t feel judged by my colleagues or customers and I look forward to every shift. 

So now sometimes I wear cosmetics and sometimes I don’t, but even on the days I do choose to wear make-up I know I am no longer simply putting on a face.

Back Where I Belong

I am very happy to report my first day back at my old work was a success! 

I was starting to worry at about 1am Sunday night when I still hadn’t managed to go to sleep, I had taken two melatonin tablets earlier in the evening but they are really hit and miss anyway and they certainly weren’t working that night. It was too late for a proper sleeping tablet and I hate taking these as they give me a right hangover the next morning.

So I was left lying awake with my insecurities until I finally drifted off around 3.30am and woke up at 7am. 7am!!!! SHIT!!! I had ½ an hour to shower, dress, blow dry my hair and get four uncooperative, argumentative morning-hating children ready to leave the house by 7:30am. Somehow we did it, the kids were easier than usual, everyone found a jumper and nobody forgot their lunch box (unlike this morning – where do all the jumpers go anyway? Are there little jumper fairies that come and steal them while we sleep? Plus my eldest is going to be very hungry when he arrives home today!)

After my sudden start to the morning I found my body trying to catch up on sleep as I was driving into town, since this is unpractical and rather unsafe I spent the commute with the radio blaring and the windows down letting in the brisk 2 degree Celsius breeze trying desperately to keep my eyes open and stressing about how this wasn’t a very good start to my first day back in four years.

 

Luckily when I arrived and got out of the car I woke up properly and was excited to get back into the routine of cleaning out the livestock and getting the shop ready for the morning. (Yes I said I was excited about cleaning, enjoy that as I will probably never say it again!) 

It was just like old times, customers were lovely, my colleagues are the same lovely people I used to work with, my boss still likes rearranging everything every five minutes, I found myself spouting out animal husbandry advice that was still buried deep within my brain and I can still catch fish!

The only thing that is different is the addition of a store pet, a giant Mancoon cat named Leo, he is gorgeous and really, really naughty – apparently he was in a mood yesterday but he jumps up on everything, he particularly likes perching on shelves containing glass bowls and fish tank ornaments. Leo doesn’t seem to like me though, he gives me death stares and every time I picked him up (to remove him from a ‘breakables’ shelf) the not so little bugger bit me on the arm and then chased my legs when I put him down again, I don’t think he appreciated this stranger coming into his home and spoiling his fun.

 

So I know it was only one shift so far but I am really glad I have been given the opportunity to go back, it’s such a totally different world to the public service and it made me feel like I was part of a flexible considerate team that was making a difference, not just a worker bee adhering to strict time schedules and clocking on and off. For the first time in years, this feels right.

Do you get along with your cat? What would your dream job be?

Gainful Employment

So I'm kinda not working at my “proper adult” public service job anymore. I took unpaid leave from my position in a busy inbound call centre for the government welfare department around 3 months ago due to a depressive episode and just never went back again. They haven't officially sacked me and I haven't officially quit but we all know that it’s over.

The depressive episode that finally saw me leave was dark and suicidal in nature but not my worst by far. I think in the end the single thing that made it so hard to walk into that office everyday was the overwhelming anxiety I had developed.

Anxiety had never really affected me before, or if it did it would be over something major and specific and happened very, very rarely. This was different, an all consuming wave washed over me my throat would clench tight, I would get all shaky and dizzy and completely unable to think, concentrate or remember anything and even the mere thought of stepping foot in the office would trigger it.

The job itself was taxing, customers were often angry or upset already in difficult life situations before phoning in and then hit with wait times that were sometimes over an hour just to speak to one of us. There was a lot of pressure from management in relation to stats, time spent on the call, quality of the call, time adherence with meal breaks to be met down to the minute. Yes it was stressful but realistically before my first breakdown I used to cope fine, nothing at work had actually changed, there was no big incident that I could pinpoint, it was just me and my addled mind.

So after the first severe breakdown ending in a suicide attempt and 8week hospitalisation (more about that another day) I eventually went back to work but cut down my hours, I went from working 50 hour weeks to 10 hour weeks but the anxiety reached all time high and eventually, I hit a depressive episode too and simply couldn’t hack it at all anymore. I had lost all confidence in my ability to offer customers the correct advice, I could barely hold a conversation due to concentration and memory issues, I felt like a useless burdon so I walked away.

Before I had this job I had worked in retail, in a pet store to be precise, a job I had started in as a bubbly 15year old girl with a love of animals and the gift of the gab and that was where I had stayed for a good 14 years.

 Now I was feeling particularly lousy the other day and went into the pet store where I used to work to pick something up and had a chat to my old boss – they have been there for over 30 years! I told her all my working woes and commented how I missed the retail environment where the customers are happy and want to regale you with tales of what Fido did at the dog park that day.  We chatted a while and she made me feel better, she always does.

That night the phone rang, it was my old boss offering me a job, school hours a couple of days a week should I want it. I was over the moon! I accepted of course and now I start back on Monday. It feels right, sure pay is half that of the public service but it’s a job that I LOVE with perfect hours and it gets me out of the house – plus she knows me, knows my moods and is 100% supportive.

For the first time in a very, very long time I feel like I am doing something worthwhile that’s just for me and I am really excited, wish me luck!!

What sort of job do you do? Do you love it or hate it?