Can’t Complain

It turns out that this song requires a warning label, namely, it is not a cry for help.

It is not a request for emotional support.

It is simply a description of an emotional state for which English has no convenient, single word, although it is grounded in burnout.

While overwork and emotional exhaustion are certainly components, and compassion fatigue, what I am describing is more general than either of those specifics, and the focus is on the delay in getting help due to the state not being a clear case of clinical depression, where the burnout occurs in part because the person is trained to just keep slogging through.

The lyrics capture an experience that is relatable for many people, so it is a statement that we are not alone.

If someone would like to talk about these sorts of things, that’s fine, that’s what friends do, but I am not dragooning folks.

So, if you are uncomfortable with songs that depict a dawning self awareness about the development of an unhealthy life pattern, then just don’t listen to this one.

Now on to our regularly scheduled introduction.

⁂

I finally got around to arranging for counseling again.

I am not clinically depressed. That’s one problem that I don’t have. What I am experiencing is burnout from learned helplessness and compassion fatigue in the workplace (largely but not entirely managed by emotionally immature people; however, I’m not able to make an objective evaluation of my emotional state.

Anyway, this song describes why it takes some people (like myself) so long to get help.

I’ve attended counseling plenty of times, but it is difficult to find a good fit. I did have good sessions with one person, but she retired from the service with which my agency contracted. I had very helpful sessions with a nurse practitioner, but I didn’t need a prescription for very long, so I stopped qualifying for that kind of service (although the way that I am being treated at work might drive me back onto medication). One PhD dashed her clipboard to the ground while yelling her credentials at me, so I fled. (I had identified a banal platitude as a semantic maneuver that was not effective with me, and she flipped out.) Many were just not enough like me, or able enough to understand me, to be able to offer helpful interactions. And so on, across a dozen or more people.

So, ya know, fingers crossed. I’m seriously not looking forward to front-loading all of my personal information again.

Lyrics

What do you mean?

I’m not depressed,

just wasted and weak

so tired and stressed

too frazzled to speak.

I’m not depressed,

just so many tasks

no time to get dressed

except for my masks.

Besides...

Everyone feels this way.

Or so they say.

I can’t complain

at the end of the day.

I’m not depressed,

cuz fasting’s my dream

except for my feels

with pints of ice cream.

I’m not depressed,

I simply can’t sleep

my tear-laden fears

are scaring the sheep.

Besides...

Everyone feels this way.

Or so they say.

I can’t complain

at the end of the day.

I’m not depressed,

it’s just who I am

my feelings get flat

when I’m in a jam.

I’m not depressed,

my life is so blessed

these dark moods I fight

are ungratefulness.

Besides...

Everyone feels this way.

Or so they say.

I can’t complain

at the end of the day.

I’m not depressed,

it’s just a rough patch

I swallow my probs

right down the ol’ hatch.

I’m not depressed,

I don't need your help

When something comes up

I’ll manage myself.

Besides...

Everyone feels this way.

Or so they say.

I can’t complain

at the end of the day.

I mean...

What do I have to be depressed about?

It’s true that I...

lost my dad

got divorced

gained weight

added debt

ruined my health

And then the haters won the election.

Okay...

I do have that to feel down about.

But it’s alright.

After all...

Everyone feels this way.

Or so they say.

I can’t complain

at the end of the day.

Cuz at the end of the day

there’s no one at home

to hear me complain

anyway.

(Now that’s depressing.)

(Good damn thing I’m an optimist.)