The stressor lately has been work. And, though I only work two days a week right now, there have been several extremely stressful things happening that are associated with work.
My pay has not been coming in consistently, and though I’ve been made many promises about fixing this issue, none of them have held up. As someone who lives from one paycheck to the next, waiting 2 or 3 weeks longer than promised for that check has turned everything around me into a nightmare. I wasn’t able to use my phone at one point, and for the first time in my life I had to make one of my loan payments late. I had never made a late payment in the last 7 years, even while I was homeless.
I know that for anyone, not just someone who crumbles under too much stress, not being paid is a deal breaker. The trouble was, though, that I really love the job, and I really love my boss.
After that began going down, things have escalated. I don’t take kindly to being yelled at, not to mention by a co-worker has no reason to be doing it. The real estate market has bounced back with a vengeance in April, so I was immediately pressured into moving from 2 days a week to 4.
The extra days wouldn’t have bothered me as much, but I cannot be with my panicky co-worker alone. Her panic becomes my panic, and by the end of the day I am ready to pull both our hair out.
My first decision was to make an escape as soon as possible, but with the mixed episodes I had last week I felt so confused and conflicted that somehow I stumbled through the weekend mildly intact, and still with a job.
In the last few days, though, things have gone from bad to worse. I’ve almost stopped eating entirely because my appetite has completely disappeared. Some of you know me, so you can understand how that is extremely odd behavior for me -but for those of you who don’t, I am a total foodie at heart. I love eating, so if I don’t feel like it (and nobody has died) then there is something seriously wrong.
The mixed episodes, too, have been pushing me around in all different directions leaving me feeling, often, at my wits end.
The one thing I do know is that I have to make a change before this gets bad enough for me to begin fantasizing about suicide. Because once that takes hold, I could potentially have a hospitalization and repeat of last year on my hands.
So I gave my two week’s notice.
And though on one hand I could say that this adventure into the realm of bipolar employment (again) has been a total failure, I refuse to call it that. After all, I succeeded pretty well for 6 months, and I am pretty proud to have made it that far!
This has also taught me that I need to take a different approach. Some people with bipolar disorder can work consistently on a pre-determined set of days, but it is very hard for me to do that if my stress level gets too high. Usually those stressors are things I have no control over -getting my paycheck, for example. Someone who has been hired on. The crazy marketing schemes of the upper echelon.
Maybe I just need to find a way I can be my own boss.
I’m going to pull back into freelance for a while, and maybe that can give me a shot at longevity.
Of all the things I am good at, the only thing I imagine being consistently good at is in a role where I can be an artist.
With that in mind, let’s initiate the final countdown before ushering in the era of the artist.