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| Photo by Nicholas Bui on Unsplash |
For years, I have battled depression. I even posted about my journey as a depressed person. For some reason, the medication never seemed to work for long before I was "off". I can't completely describe what "off" feels like other than moments of battling what feels like the onset of a crisis or feeling my mood shift despite taking a drug that was intended to stabilize it. I wasn't always depressed while on anti-depressants but I wasn't always well either.
I've always held a job. Being the sole provider for my household, holding a job has been a non-negotiable necessity. The issue? I never held a job for more than five years. Five years was the cap for me. I had something called the 3-year-itch. No matter what the position, or the compensation, I would get a sudden urgency to leave a position. This urgency sometimes had a catalyst, like an overbearing manager or a financial need for more income. Other times it was nothing more than becoming fatigued with all that had to do with the job from the commute to the office personalities and decor. I'd begin complaining to my sister and best friend then begin my job search. Eventually, I chucked it up to my unending desire to become an entrepreneur. I wasn't meant to work for other people. I needed to work for myself. Creating my own hours and income quickly became a fixation. Nothing was going to work until I worked for myself.
Once, I quit my job and had nothing lined up. I took out a loan and decided to start my business. I was doing digital marketing and while I made a decent living as a freelancer, I was by no means replacing the income I was able to command in a corporate setting. There were aspects of my life that I thoroughly enjoyed like working in my robe, sleeping in if I felt I needed it, walking my grade schooler to school, cooking dinner each evening, and being able to tend to my fitness. Despite all of those wonderful pro's, the issue I couldn't avoid was income. My income fluctuated. I had to invest money just to make money. Clients were often a headache. I would sometimes negotiate contracts that were well below my pay grade just to keep money flowing. This led to a cycle of investing time on low paying contracts which took time away from bidding for higher paying ones. It became a hardship. Being an entrepreneur was a liability/luxury I could no longer afford.
Defeated, I began to apply for jobs. I landed one, a very good one and began doing Corporate America again. Within two years, I was burned out. The office environment was stressful. The commute was bothersome. My kids were growing up, the job was growing more stressful and I was growing more and more depressed as time went on. I was taking my anti-depressant religiously and then my auto shipment didn't arrive. I called the pharmaceutical company and was told the doctor had to prescribe a refill. Communication between the doctor and the pharmaceutical company was lacking and I was the mediator. If I ordered medication directly through a local pharmacy I would have to pay full price. The annoyance of having to chase down my medication each month became an issue of stress. When my medication was running low, I would feel a pang of anxiety knowing I had to again call the pharmaceutical company and act as a liaison between them and my doctor.
What I didn't mention is the anti-depressants definitely made me feel better but they didn't alleviate my symptoms well enough for me to justify the stress that came with obtaining them each month. I eventually let the prescription lapse. I stopped taking my medication.
I thought I had this. I thought that I was going to be able to manage life without anti-depressants. I had been doing so for years. The last time I was on them, I was in a rocky marriage and I figured that my depression was ever-present but aggravated by stressful situations. I was wrong. The doctors were wrong too.
I began to unravel. One moment I was ready to quit my job. I didn't care how much savings I didn't have. I didn't care about the risk. I needed relief. I was overwhelmed and overworked and I needed something to let up. Being a single parent of a pre-teen and teenager wasn't making things easier. Between extracurricular activities, their social lives, bickering, and needs I was being pulled in every direction. I was working two jobs, seven days a week, managing a household, and attempting to launch a business so I can see my way out of Corporate America. That would be a lot on anyone, but to someone with my mental health issues, it was a ticking time bomb.
After a particularly tough day at work, I went into a vacant office and just cried. I couldn't manage it all anymore. The following day, I called out and informed my managers I wouldn't be coming in for the rest of the week. It was then that I went to my doctors and had a psychological evaluation. After a series of questions and confessions of my destructive behavior patterns, I was told that I am not a depressed person. I am a bi-polar person.
Within that moment, I felt a wave of sadness come over me. Being a depressed person with anxiety disorder was okay. Most people within the United States suffered from Depression and Anxiety. I was part of a huge population. There was an odd comfort in that. There was a peace within me knowing that everyone has felt depressed or anxious at some point in time even if it wasn't for the long term. I wasn't that different from anyone else. I was okay with that. I wanted to be like everyone else, maybe just a tiny bit different. Being bi-polar robbed me of that comfort. I can easily recall a few occasions where I casually insulted someone by saying "What are you, bi-polar or something"? I never said "bi-polar" compassionately. I always said it in a negative and accusatory way. Calling someone bi-polar was an intentional insult. Now, I was the one being told and I felt the way others may have when I insulted them. The alarming admission that I was bi-polar called attention to so many behaviors in my past that suddenly made sense.
I always thought that my desire to work for myself was what made me so miserable at work. I now realize that I wanted to work for myself because I thought it would ease the pressures of working in a corporate setting. The truth is that there are pressures in any setting. Building a business comes with its own pressures. I no longer feel equipped to handle the organization that it takes to run my own business. Some days, getting out of bed is a major victory. Remaining diligent in keeping tax records, profit and loss, marketing, and sales now all sound like a new responsibility that I'm ill-equipped to manage. However, the monotony of boarding a train along with rest of the herd of employed cattle meandering along to the office drives me mad. I sometimes feel as if I can do greater, but now I wonder what I can do at all.
Now, as I experiment with my medicinal cocktail until I find the right combination and dose I wonder what the future holds for me. My responsibilities as a parent, woman, and an employee will not change. I will have to learn to navigate life with the understanding that the symptoms may be tempered but they will never completely disappear. I can live a full life because I now have the tools to do so. The path may not be easy but at least I won't change directions at the drop of a hat.
I now know what my manic phases look like. I now realize that excessive spending is manic. Spontaneously quitting your job is manic. Breaking up with someone and then making up with them right after is manic. Chopping all of your hair off can be manic. Things I did because I thought I just felt like it were the result of manic phases. If I wasn't manic, I was disenchanted with life and sluggishly parenting, showing up to work, letting my dog out on the patio instead of walking her, ordering food because I had no energy to cook. I slept as long as I could and if I wasn't sleeping, my bed became an island where I ate, slept, and watched television. If I had a catheter I would have never left.
Learning who I am as a woman who has Bi-Polar I disorder is a new journey that I never imagined taking. Regardless of how I feel about it, or how difficult it is -the path to wellness is the road I must travel. I was initially nervous about disclosing my mental illness. I suppose I was afraid of how others will receive me, but as I finish this post I realize that the opinion of others will never dictate the truth that I know about myself.
The stressors of life are inevitable, however, the way I process it differs from others. That doesn't make me weak or special. It makes me bi-polar.
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