Work makes me want to kill myself

I don’t think people understand what it’s like when your job stops being “stressful” and starts feeling like a threat.

Every Sunday feels like a countdown to execution. Every notification makes my heart race. Every time my phone buzzes, I wonder what new problem I’m going to inherit.

I’m in a leadership role, which sounds impressive until you’re the one expected to have every answer.

If a server goes down, it’s my problem.
If a system fails, it’s my problem.

If a project is delayed because another department didn’t do their part, somehow it’s still my problem.
If management wants miracles with limited people, limited budget, and impossible deadlines, it’s my problem.

People only notice IT when something breaks. They don’t see the nights spent preventing disasters that never happen because you worked hard enough to stop them.

Leadership means you’re responsible for everything but in control of very little.

You’re expected to solve problems that involve other departments, decisions you didn’t make, budgets you don’t control, staffing you can’t approve, and timelines you didn’t create. Yet when something goes wrong, your name is still attached to it.

And because you’re in management, everyone assumes you’re handling it just fine.
They don’t see you lying awake replaying conversations.

They don’t see you mentally drafting explanations before anyone has even asked a question.
They don’t see you checking your phone at dinner because you’re afraid something exploded while you were eating.

They don’t see that you never really leave work. Work follows you home, into weekends, into holidays, into your sleep.

The worst part isn’t even the workload anymore.
It’s the anticipation.

Just thinking about Monday makes my hands shake.
Just hearing the notification sound makes my stomach drop.

For the past three days I’ve had suicidal thoughts, and it’s terrifying because I don’t think I want to die. I think I just want my brain to stop treating my workplace like it’s a life-or-death situation.

I can’t simply resign. My parents depend on me. My own family depends on me. Bills don’t stop because you’re burned out.

So every morning I put on a professional face, attend meetings, solve everyone else’s emergencies, and quietly wonder how much longer I can keep pretending I’m okay.

Has anyone else’s job ever done this to them? Not just stress you out—but completely rewire your nervous system?

Because I honestly don’t know how much more of this I can carry.