Where hopes and dreams go to die...

...another name for it is "the unhappiest place on earth."

Could you guess that this was going to be a work related post?

I know, I know. In an economy that is hemorrhaging tens of thousands of jobs daily, I should be grateful to be gainfully employed at all. But it's just so miserable, and I can't even pinpoint exactly why.

Today my co-worker/friend A and I were discussing how we used to be before we started working here: happier, friendlier, and much more attractive. We were trying to figure out what it is about our workplace that has basically been sapping our will to live for the past 4 (almost 5 years).

Before I started working at my current job, I think I was rather attractive. Since then, I've gained weight (despite the fact that I exercise and make an effort to eat healthy), my skin is breaking out constantly, and my hair is falling out at an alarming rate.

I thought maybe this could be blamed on getting older, but A has noticed the same skin and hair problems (she is still ridiculously skinny though. I'd kill for that kind of metabolism).

Since I have to wear an ugly blue labcoat all the time, I have no motivation to buy cute clothes anymore. They'll be covered up. Or if I don't wear my labcoat, I'll most likely spill something nasty on them. What's the point?

And since I'm not bothering to wear cute clothes, why bother with makeup or putting effort into my hair either? There's really no one to impress, as all the guys are married, super-duper religious Mormons, or they're like my acquaintance "Joe." So really, WTF would be the point?

Comparing pictures of myself back in college and now is distressing. Back then, I looked cute and genuinely happy in most of my pictures. And now, even on rare days when I've put alot of effort into my appearance I don't look like I used to. My eyes look tired and sad, and my smiles are fake and forced. That "spark of life" that used to be there is gone.

Maybe other people don't notice, but I find it upsetting.

And just so you don't think I'm vain and totally obsessed with looks, my personality has suffered too.

I was never exactly bubbly and outgoing, but I was much friendlier and more pleasant to be around. Even if I was having a bad day, I could still be positive and find nice things to say to people. Now that is more difficult every day.

I could deal with setbacks, but now even minor things (like having to dig my car out of the snow, f--king Utah winter, grr...) feel crushing and impossible to handle.

Before, I could find things to talk about with pretty much anyone. Now, I feel like I have nothing worthwhile to say at all. When my mom asks me how my week was, I answer "Boring," "The same as always," or "Crappy and pointless, how was yours?" And I feel truly awful about this.

I used to make an effort to keep in touch with my friends, but now if I even think about calling them, I wonder "Why? What do I have to talk about?" (The fact that most of my friends are hardcore, true-believing Mormons, and I'm not really comfortable around them anymore also discourages me.)

So why not make new friends? The fact that I have nothing worthwhile to talk about, even with my old friends, makes any kind of social situation difficult, especially with people I don't know.

I used to have hobbies that I enjoyed: painting, playing the guitar, going to concerts, writing--I have two ideas for novels and I used to actually work on them. Now I have no motivation to do any of this. All I feel like doing is laying on the couch and watching anything that's on TV.

My apartment is a mess. Since I never have anyone over, I have no motivation to clean it. I just don't care, and it's awful. Sometimes I'll try to clean, but it's so overwhelming that I give up. I briefly consider moving, but finding another place, packing up all my shit, and moving it there would also be too hard.

(And yes, I know that I'm describing all the symptoms of depression. I've been to a GP who prescribed Prozac, then Effexor, then Wellbutrin. None of that helped, so she sent me to a psychiatrist who prescribed Lexapro, then Cymbalta + Adderall. None of that helped either. The side effects from all the drugs just made me sick and more miserable. I even talked to a counselor, and that also didn't help. So please, no comments encouraging me to seek counseling or meds. BTDT, not doing it again.)

A's story is similar. Shortly after college, she moved to Arizona to go to flight school. She wants to be an airline pilot. She would show up to her flight classes with no makeup, hair in a ponytail, and didn't make any special effort with her clothes, but got more attention from the men there than she knew what to do with.

She met a really great guy who chased after her, thought she was totally amazing, etc.

Even after she finished flight school and couldn't find a job as a pilot, she was still happier than she is here, and had a more positive attitude about life (despite totally hating Tuscon).

When she moved back to Utah, she continued her relationship with the great guy and things were good for awhile, but the longer she worked at the unhappiest place on earth, the more the relationship seemed to deteriorate. And then he cheated on her.

There's just something about working at this place that seems to create a noxious cloud of despair around people--it chokes our spirit and destroys our will to live. Others can sense it (even from far away) and avoid us, cheat on us, etc.

Interestingly, getting away for even a week seems to help. When I went to England, I was pretty happy, despite the airline losing my luggage, and other random crap that went wrong. Half the time I was there, I didn't bother wearing makeup, wore my hair pulled back, and was dressed in clothes that I bought in unfamiliar British stores while horribly jet-lagged (and without even bothering to try them on). And yet, I got more attention from men than ever before in my life.

Random guys on the street would talk to me. Guys working in the shops would flirt with me while they helped me find stuff. At one of the hotels, I was just sitting outside at a picnic table and some guys were staring and waving at me from the window of their room.

I wondered: WTF? Maybe the standard of beauty is different here, or the guys are just more outgoing. But now I think it's because by going far, far away from my miserable job, I had managed to escape from the cloud of despair. Hmm. Maybe that explains my continuing fascination with overseas travel.

And while I was there, I totally hit it off with the sexy tour guide who we'll call "Elliot." After I got home, I sent him a thank you card, and a few months later, I got a postcard from him. Apologizing profusely for taking so long to write back, and explaining that he'd been out of the office, and they hadn't told him he'd gotten any mail.

I put that postcard on my fridge in disbelief, and while I sat around for a week wondering what to do with it, he sent me another one. So just like with A and her guy, things started off good. Later, he even told me how he "fell for me" that night when we were talking in the pub. But of course, it all eventually went to hell, and I really don't think he gives a damn about me anymore. (Though I'm just masochistic enough not to give up.)

It's got to be the horrible cloud of despair I'm surrounded by thanks to my miserable job. Even as far away as Europe, he can sense it and wants nothing to do with me.

Anyway, it was an interesting (and deeply disturbing conversation). For the longest time A and I both thought "I'm the only one who feels this way" about the situation. For now, we're trying to figure out just what it is about our workplace that has sent our lives into ugly downward spirals, then maybe we can figure out how to fix it.

(Quitting would be the obvious solution, but since I have bills to pay and finding a new job seems next to impossible right now, that's not an option.)