It’s 1:00 AM and I can’t sleep. My mind is racing. Another change has been made at my office and I know my workload is about to get bigger. I know it’s going to take some problem solving to figure out how to fit it into my routine. My mind races with different scenarios. After an hour, I’ve finally solved it. It’s 2:00 AM. Then the questions start.
Do I share my idea with my office?
Will I seem too commanding?
What if they think it’s stupid?
Will my manager care?
What do I do?
My mind races even quicker. I spend another hour going through every scenario—trying to make sure I won’t offend people when I mention it, but still figure out a way to be productive as possible.
I’m up at 6:15 the next day. Normally, I’m up at 7:00 AM but I’m focused on my idea for how to be a better worker. I watch the sunrise with a racing heart. I’m ready for work early and I’m restless. Should I listen to music?
Finally, I get in my car. What do I listen to? I have no idea what I want. Fast or slow?
It’s a beautiful day with the sun shining!! Wow. Should I take a picture?
I’m at the bottom of Shea Heights when a blog idea hits me. I spend the rest of the drive to work focusing on what I want to type. The words tumble around in my brain and I’m excited at the possibility of getting words out after weeks of nothing.
I arrive to work full of optimism. I sit down in my chair—check the news on Twitter, look at Instagram, turn on my music and dive in.
I’m so productive. Is it 10 AM already? I’ve completed so many projects and sent so many emails! I’m going to get caught up!!! The excitement in my head rises. Do I tell them about my idea?
There’s something frightening bubbling. It feels intense and much too powerful. I push it away. I’m being productive. This is a good thing.
I email my boss and explain my idea. Filled with excitement, I share it with some of my coworkers. Not all of them like it. They wish I had consulted them. I have no idea how to process this. I care so much about my job, how can they not see that? I didn’t want to offend them, do I apologize? Do they hate me? I know they hate me. My heart races even quicker.
Why don’t they understand? I don’t know if I can breathe. I say I’m going to get coffee and leave the office. I listen to music. The panic rises. I feel all over the place. Things are shiny and on high speed. Something is wrong but I don’t want to think about it.
It’s back to the office. I sit with my headphones in and working at top speed. Are they going to fire me? My boss hates me. I can’t afford to lose my job. I’m in major debt. I have a mortgage. He hates me. He will fire me. I know I’m on twitter a lot but my tasks are sky high. What if he thinks I don’t do enough? My thoughts are all over the place.
Someone posts something online that makes me shake with anger. Actually, I think I’ve been shaking all day now that I think about it.
By 1PM I’ve done a full day’s work.
Do I keep pushing on? Or do I slow down?
Today I’m going to keep going. It means that I don’t have to do as much in the coming days if things calm.
I want to reply to my text messages.
Do I want to volunteer next week?
I want to dance.
Maybe I should date again.
Everything is shiny and intense.
I hate it. I love it.
TRIGGER WARNING
Two weeks later I open my eyes to a new day.
I’ve slept in. My entire body feels heavy. How am I going to get out of bed? It’s 7:15 AM. I’ve slept in. I roll out of bed and run to the shower. I skip shaving. I skip using conditioner. I know my hair will be up today anyway. How many hours until I can crawl back in bed?
The cats meowing feels like daggers in my ears. Why won’t they be quiet? I get dressed and sit in my chair. The sunrise is beautiful and I take a picture. I feel foggy, but I know it is beautiful and a slight flicker of hope sparks inside.
I leave for work. I listen to sad music in the car. My arms feel heavy. I pass the rock where I know I would kill myself if I do follow through with my plan. Wouldn’t people be better off if I did it? I have the plan. I know how to make it happen and make it look like an accident so my life insurance would be paid out.
There would be no debt. I know others would be helped with the money I’ve willed out.
I cry when I think about going to work. I’m terrible at my job. What if they know how depressed I am today? How do I hide it? The tears won’t stop. Maybe if I cry now then I won’t later. No, a plan needs to happen. This happens. I mentally prepare how to be productive today.
I’ll work on binders. Those need to be done and I can do them without thought. I’ll do all the easy renewals. Hopefully there are no complicated messes I’ve made. Everyone else is better than me. Would they even care if I quit? Would they notice if I died?
I arrive at work and I try to appear normal. Ask them about their night. Do they think I’m grumpy? I sit down and realize I don’t want to listen to music. I put my headphones in but nothing is playing. I feel dead. What if they think I hate them?
My arms feel heavy and the desk feels like it’s tipping. I don’t think I can do it. I hear the happy chatter around me and everything feels dark in my bubble. What do I do? I’m not going to be able to stop crying. I rush out to my car and cry. I fumble for my phone. I dial my sister’s number. No answer. Is Ashley working from home today? I dial her number. No answer. I could call Lynn. She would be nice about it.
I sit there feeling like a burden to everyone. Why do my eyelids feel so heavy and painful? Two minutes later they text me. “Are you okay?” they ask. I don’t reply. All I want to do is die. I don’t feel like I can do it anymore.
Suddenly I realize it’s been ten minutes so I go back in. I know my eyes are red. I go straight to the washroom and splash water on my eyes. I know that I won’t be able to take a lunch today. It’s important to stay on top of my work and it feels like I’m going in slow motion.
The afternoon drags on. My legs are itchy. My back is aching. A pain that’s been there for weeks is making me scared. Should I go to the hospital or is it all in my head? I despise myself.
Wouldn’t it be better to be dead? The cycle is endless. I know people expect me to be positive because I am most of the time. But I don’t feel strong. The stats are against me.
I fight. I can’t let myself daydream anymore. I shut down those thoughts. I promised Kylie that I would never go through with it.
I start thinking about the good things of the day. I tweet a few of them. They’ll be a reminder later when I’m at home alone.
I need to focus on being productive. Not take this job for granted.
Binders.
My eyes start to well up again. I know my coworker can see. I’m so embarrassed and it’s important not to wipe my eyes so the movement doesn’t make her look up. I’m sniffing. Damn sniffing. It’s always the giveaway. She must think I’m so messed up.
How many hours until I can go home to bed?
Calvin sends me a text.
“Just a reminder that you make my life better. Remember you’re loved. Do you want to see me after work?”
I don’t. But he will know something is really wrong if I say no. I suspect I’m getting this message because he already knows.
I put the headphones in again.
It’s dark and foggy, but I force myself to focus on looking to the end of the tunnel. I KNOW it’s good I understand what’s happening. But I’m tired. So tired.
I need to go to bed.
____________________________________________
A long time ago, someone told me they don’t understand how I have a steady and good job. How do I manage to keep it, they wonder. Aren’t people with bipolar too sick to keep a job?
The question was posed to me once again recently—an air of disbelief about my diagnosis.
The truth is that most days I don’t understand how I’ve managed—but I do know that I am SO thankful for it. How do I do it? I plan. During stable times I’ve tried to figure out action plans. And I have stable times much more than I used to.
Even though it doesn’t feel like it, I think I do hide the worst of it. Often hid under what looks like hyper activity and grumpiness. I know I’m not always easy to work with and I’m very thankful my coworkers put up with it. I’m scared of excusing my behaviour when I shouldn’t. My manager is aware of what I have, and sometimes I wonder if I should explain more. I NEVER want to tell her. But please be very aware that I am thankful for them.
I’m grateful for work. I’m terrified of losing it. I LOVE the actual work I do. It’s enjoyable and interesting. Is it a huge challenge to keep being a good employee? Yes. But I would say that I truly think I am a better worker because I plan so obsessively for the highs and lows. I worry about not being enough.
I know how lucky I am to be functional enough to keep working. I know many can’t and it’s something I shouldn’t take for granted even though I sometimes do.
But to question someone’s mental illness because their life appears to be normal is not okay. It’s incredibly hurtful to say that someone doesn’t seem to be sick enough. Those words have whirled in my brain when I want to die. The selfish thought of “Maybe they will understand now!” When the hypo mania brings a shaking intensity and panic attacks—I wonder “Will they take it seriously if I let them in to see how awful and scary it is?” I decide against both.
I have Bipolar 2.
I have a good job.
Both are possible.
