Early in my career I got fired from not one but two jobs within the space of 18 months after my employer became aware of my illness.  The first was the day I returned to work after being placed on  two weeks medical leave and in outpatient therapy after my brother's death six weeks before and mother's suicide attempt the week before.  It was too small to be covered by the ADA so there wasn't anything I could do.

The next time, I had inquired about FMLA leave from our HR department.  The HR director responded, copying the managing partner.  Shortly after, the managing partner called me into his office and demanded to know why I was asking.  I was in a fragile place still (what with the death, suicide attempt, being fired from one job for depression, getting divorced in the meantime...I know, I'm a weenie) and just balls it and told him the truth.  That afternoon, hand to heaven, I get an email telling me I was on probation for unsatisfactory job performance.  When I asked what improvements they expected to see and what time frame they were looking at, I got the response, again, hand to heaven, "You're a lawyer, figure it out for yourself.  I'm trying to save your job."

I was determined to make them fire me, even though being there was making me even crazier and depressed.  I ended up in a psych unit for a few days rght before Christmas when I couldn't lift my arms to pack to go out of town.  Oh, and I was inconsolably crying and stuff, too.  (Gotta say though, wasn't a fan of the plastic covered mattresses, but the food was *fabulous*).

Not surprisingly, I got fired six weeks after my double-secret probation started.  This time I could, and did, filed an ADA discrimination claim with the EEOC.  I ended up settling it because I was unemployed, had no propects for work, and was, frankly, broke as hell.  I wish to God I could have fought that one publicly.

What followed was a series of jobs taken to survive.  I got fired from another one -- I swear on my son's life -- because I asked to be paid after not getting paid for four weeks.  I got paid, then got fired over the phone Labor Day weekend.

I was out of work AGAIN.  It was about three months before I landed a new job, and this one was actually great.  I was happy in my employment and with my co-workers.  And got laid off about 18 months later when the cases we were working on were all settled by the national counsel.

Two months later I got a job with a three-man shop doing mostly construction law.  Again, I dug it, it was laid back, folks had a clue, they even made me take a vacation when I told them I hadn't been on one....ever.  Then....the partners all decided to go their separate ways and the firm was dissolved.

About that time the state was looking for an assistant attorney general in the civil rights division of the AG's office.  It hadn't come across in this blog, but that was my favorite area of law (go figure), one I'd practiced up through the second firing (again, irony to be fired illegally by firms specializing in employment and civil rights law), and wanted to make my career in.  I was fortunate enough to get hired and served in that job for three years.  It was awesome.  I felt like I was doing the Lord's work (a complete euphamism in my case since I'm an atheist), practicng the real meat and potatoes of the law, and was working with the smartest people I'd ever worked with.

The only reason I left was so selfish of me....I wanted to be a mommy for a while.  I was a month shy of 39 when he was born and never thought I'd have kids.  Frankly, I wasn't really motivated to have kids, given my dysfunctional family background and concern that the crazy genes would be passed on.  But mommy I was, and I discovered I liked the kid a lot more than I thought I would.

All kidding aside, I feel in love with that little boy.  He is, really and truly, the only blood family I have.  And I wanted to be there to watch him as he learned to walk, talk, all that stuff.

Every major event or accomplishment in my life has been destroyed by someone. High school and college graduation, even law school graduation, my first wedding, innumerable brithdays -- and don't get me started on the Semi Annual Discus throw, when my father would have his inevitable psychic break on Thanksgiving and Christmas and throw his plates across the room (my mom finally stopped using the fine china and we ate our holiday dinners on paper plates).

This time, being with my baby, was something I could not put off and do later.  I did not want to miss it, and I don't think I've ever wanted anything as badly as to be with him. I'd returned to work when he was three months old, but didn't really get back into the groove because I knew I was missing out.  I nearly cried when the sweet grandma who ran his daycare told me he'd stood up or done something for the first time that I wasn't there to see.  It was literally crushing my soul to be denied THIS, too.

Things started to fall into place that would make it possible for me to leave my job.  My husband's company was about to close a deal that would bring in enough money that we wouldn't need my income anymore. That was set to happen the second week of November and, with my husband's blessing and encouragement, I resigned on the last business day of October.

On November 2, we learned that the deal was a fraud, and the guy behind it was being arrested by the U.S. government.  See "Fort Lauderdale Attorney Charged in Billion Dollar Ponzi Scheme", http://www.justice.gov/usao/fls/PressReleases/091201-02.html.  That's the guy.

Anyway, we were ruined.  My depression had worsened over the past few month anyway, and now this.  That combined with the financial devastation and other things going on at the same time culminated in me trying to kill myself the Sunday before Thanksgiving. 

I cannot tell you how ashamed I am for that.  My mother suicided when I was 33 and that sucked.  Here I almost did the same thing to my baby.  I forgive myself for my illness, but I don't think I'll ever forgive myself for, even for a moment and in an emotional breakdown, abandoning my son.

Anyway, I went back to what work I could get in December, believe it or not.  So did my husband.  But the periods of unemployment and the serious cut in our income (which honestly was not all that to begin with) forced us into bankruptcy this year.  Even after that was discharged, we still don't have enough to pay our bills each month. 

The market sucks enough, but I can't even get an interview because potential employers look at my resume and think I'm either a job hopper or (not incorrectly) I get fired a lot.  And I haven't been honest about why my resume looks like it does.  When you've already lost two jobs for having depression, you figure it can't help you *get* one.

And as I expressed in an earlier blog, I can't get any help.  I'm at an utter loss as to what to do now.  Yes, I'm going to lose this time with my son, but I'm already doing that, and necessity is a bitch.

I am literally crying out for help, something I've never done until this year, and I might as well be screaming in a storm.

I even wrote to a website called "Lawyers with Depression" and asked for direction, help or at least a referral to some resources and never got a response.  I mean....wow.

I write all of this today, twenty days before Christmas, because yesterday afternoon the project team I'm working with right now was told that we might be laid off for "several weeks" due to problems with the document review platform program.  I had been out of work for six weeks before starting this job, and now, it looks like I'm gonna be out of work again.

I wrote a letter to Santa last Christmas and simply asked that things would get better or at least easier.  They've gotten easier, I suppose, but I guess I should have been clearer.  But seeing as writing to Santa didn't work, I'm gonna try again screaming into the storm of the internet, and just hope that someone offers to lend a hand - it's supposed to be the time for miracles, isn't it?

Tags: Employment Discrimination Depression

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