Excitement & Disappointment

My job. Yup, you guessed it. I was so eager to start my job when it was offered to me a few days prior, only to be disappointed upon my starting. How can that happen? Why does it seem that my disappointment is something that is a common occurrence for me. 

Will I ever be happy?

I have to admit something, and even though I'm not proud to admit this, I know it needs to be said—if only for my own personal gratification. Here I go—I've never enjoyed working. 

There, I said it.

During my unemployment, I enjoyed staying at home being by myself and collecting those what felt like, neverending unemployment checks. I never thought I'd be one of those people who would "take advantage of the system" but instead, would prefer to be with people while being out there in the work force. Lately, I've been the opposite. I was dreading being 'out there' while mingling and working.

How could this be? One word—dissatisfaction.

I've never liked any of my jobs. Although I love the graphic design field as a whole, I've never worked at a design job that I truly loved or held passion for. On the contrary, I was unhappy and I was saddened by my lack of creative inspiration that held me back as an artist and a designer. I've always dreamed about working for a large advertising agency or small design studio, only to be employed by a magazine or newspaper instead. I've never had that agency experience which is commonly required by 'real' graphic design jobs.

Don't get me wrong, I'm appreciative of what opportunity I've been given in my field, but I've never felt the need to aspire to receive a promotion within my past companies or a sense of pride for what I did. Isn't that what it's supposed to be about?

Upon graduation, I know that any sort of job outside of my two internships would be a godsend in my field allowing me to build up my portfolio away from the common recent graduate of school work. Especially in such a competitive field, but only to be disillusioned instead. I wanted to fulfill my dream, I wanted to dive in full throttle and work as a true graphic designer—not someone sitting in front of a computer creating nothing but ads and layouts for a local magazine or newspaper.

It was disheartening and frequently shattered my hopes and dreams.

With my new job, it has only become exponentially worse. Since technically I am not a graphic designer, but an assistant instead—an executive assistant that has no meaning or purpose but making mundane phone calls and regular copying for the company. Is that where my degree was supposed to take me? Yes, I know I'm lucky to be employed during these hard times, but is it so much to ask to even work as a designer part time? I'm not picky, I'd even accept a design position at a local newspaper with a small amount of employees. At this point, I wouldn't care how much salary I made, as long as I was happy. For once in my life, I wanted to be happy.

I worked hard to graduate from college and my goal was to never have to work in a field—or at a job—where I was dismayed again. Only to be taken backwards in my life in this job.

As I continue to look for that 'perfect' job in my field, I know that I may be stuck working at a job that I loathe instead of a job that I love. However, I won't give up, I will persevere for the one job that'll perhaps provide me eagerness as I embark on a new chapter in my life.

Or will I?

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The End of My Tunnel

It's official, today I feel as though I have reached my threshold—the end of my tunnel. I feel as though my life is wasted and I am no longer challenged. As if I am oppressed. How do I overcome this? How can I excel within my soul and my psyche to fight this constant emotion? Is it even possible at this point, from someone who is in their late 40's? To some of you, that may seem young, but to most, it's beyond a mid-life crisis. I have been experiencing this for over a year now and I can't seem to shake myself from it. I wish it was like a bad dream and I could just wake up, instead of living it every single day. 

I sit here at my new job bored and unchallenged. I feel as though my life is being wasted and everything I worked so hard to achieve while in college and beyond graduation has escaped me and slipped through my fingers; it has become out of my grasp. Everything is out of my control, including my bipolar disorder. It's clear my medication isn't working as I had hoped, and only creating a constant depression that is beyond anything I had ever imagined. A deep decline within my soul.

I should be happy, I should be grateful and I should love my life. I have a loving, wonderful husband and a beautiful healthy daughter—so why can't I appreciate this and just accept it as being a part of my life? Why can't I just realize that the majority of the population is worse off than me and just move forward and try to make the best of it? To continue on as part of my personal life cycle.

'Why' seems to be the question of my life these days. It seems I am always asking 'why.'

I'm tired of asking this question, and instead, I want an answer. Nothing embellished, I just want to know that everything will be OK and my life will persevere regardless of what job I'm at or whether or not we're ever rich or even if we're poor, that life will still go on and I'll be happy. I'll be thankful for my life and appreciate and relish my family time everyday instead. But I can't. Alternately, I dwell on my life and it makes me even more depressed than I had ever imagined.

This slump that I'm in won't go away and it's making me exhausted; I am emotionally exhausted. I never thought in my wildest dreams that repeating that phrase would ever escape my lips or even an emotion that would ever be consummated in my life. 

But it does. Every single day for the past year. Or, at least it feels that way.

Last night I had a long discussion with my husband about my job and how unhappy I was. He understands, but at the same time, he doesn't. He's trying to wrap his fingers around why I am like this, because I know for my husband, he too is emotionally exhausted just from living my personal hell along side me. It affects him too. He knows that in all the years we have been together, I have never reacted like this or have ever let a job affect me the way this job has, in this manner; I have never been this depressed.

He asks that I give the job some time, at least until he can accumulate a clientele from his new position as a personal trainer. I promised him I would, as I had no intentions of just easily giving up and walking away. I've always been responsible that way and I always seem to think logically, which I was told just the other day from my psychiatric nurse—who I like to refer to as my 'drug dealer'—that my logical thinking and planning is a "gift." Maybe an attribute I should grow to admire, instead of criticize. 

I will try and honor my husband's wishes and trudge everyday at a job that I loathe and a job that I come home depressed from, I will do it and I will make my husband proud. For our finances, it's a necessity. It'll give us that one little freedom of paying our bills and our attempt to live like the rest of society in an honest manner.

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Not Funny

I'm finally speaking out. I have finally had it with all of the jokes and play on words that so many people within our society like to reference—"you're acting bipolar today," and those sort of phrases. I'm sick of it and I'm sick of how the youth in our society likes to think they're being cool by overusing it. I'm angry and I'm sad at the same time. It affects me, yes it does, mainly because after decades of discovering this disease, people still think it's a psychological/psychiatric problem in our society that can be controlled by good weather, et al. 

No, it's not as simple as that, is it?

I have been through hell and back this past year and I continually try to climb my way out of this deep dark hole every single day. Only to make it to the top, and drop down once again and continue to climb up from the bottom. I have been dealing with this for months even after my medication has been changed, altered and modified. It seems to be a regular habit for me because just as I feel that my medication is starting to work, I go into another "remission" of emotions only to increase yet once again. Will it ever get better? Will my circle of emotions solidify again? I want this so badly and I just want to be happy. Is that so much to ask? I am tired and I am emotionally exhausted and no longer can handle these feelings of discontent and sadness, and what makes it worse are the insensitive name-calling that I hear every single day coming from the mouths of today's youth and ignorant individuals who think what they're saying is actually funny, instead of what it really is, very hurtful to those of us suffering from bipolar disorder.

It's not funny.

My family is continually walking on eggshells with me, this much I can tell, and I hate it. I try so hard to make it right for them, but then I start to fall in that hole once again. I can see the smile on their faces when I'm smiling and happy, as if they're experiencing pure relief, but then when I'm sad and crying, they're sad and they're hurt. It affects them just as much as it affects me, but sometimes only worse. I can see the hurt in their eyes as I struggle with this illness on a regular, daily basis.

I hate it, but at the same time, I can't control it.

Nobody would love this, nobody would even like it, but whether we like it or not, is not the issue at hand, it's still out of our control and that much I loathe. I hate being out of control and I hate not having the wherewithal to get me out of this depressive slump that I am regularly experiencing. 

As I type this post from a job that I now dislike and hate going to everyday, I continue to hope that my life will change and see a dramatic improvement in the upcoming days, if not weeks ahead. I get sad when I hear the misuse of "being bipolar" from the ignorance of today as well as the uneducated opinions of some, if not most. I will try to walk by with my head held high and hope that as the future unfolds, so will the education of this disease that is out of our control, and within our grasp as those of us struggling with this disorder, we try and improve our wellness and get healthy and become happy.

That is the goal.

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Back to Work!

Well, tomorrow will be my third week at my new job. How am I liking it? Hmm...tough one since I really like the people I work with as well as my new boss. He seems laid back and pretty nice and from what I've noticed so far, he seems to treat his employees very well; he respects their opinions and expertise. I like that. However, I don't like what I'm doing and—here it goes—I don't like being back to work.

There, I admitted it.

These past few weeks have been tough for me. I don't know if it has anything to do with my bipolar disorder, or just that I don't feel it's challenging for me, or both. Either way, with everything that I've been going through, I thought I'd want to dive in and be ready and eager to start this new adventure in my life.

But I'm not.

I'm beyond discouraged and so far, it's not a challenge for me; I don't feel as though this is within my realm of my background and knowledge, and worse, my professional training. Sadly—and I'm embarrassed to admit—I feel it's beneath me. Yes, I realize these are not words I should be expressing, especially considering I have been unemployed for two and half years, so I should be grateful that I found a job so quickly after my unemployment benefits have ended. Right?

Unfortunately, I'm not.

Perhaps I should just suck it up and try and work my tail off and move forward with my life. Right now, our finances are in dire straits so the option of quitting and starting over with an endless job hunt, is not an option at this time. I hate being in this position and I hate that my illness has gotten in the way of my pride. After spending thousands of dollars to what now seems like a worthless college degree, this is what I'm destined to find? An executive assistant? Yes, that is my official title—an executive assistant. I went from being a successful graphic designer to this. As anyone could imagine, it's quite discouraging. 

But don't judge me.

Even though doing graphic design work is about 30% of my job description, as well as very little marketing, but mostly, I am there as an assistant to my boss, the owner, and other managers as well. I work at an arts center, so that part of the job I like. It's new to me, and although I like being involved with something new and something unfamiliar, overall I don't like the job duties.

I feel guilty, I truly do. I've been coming home from work these past few weeks in a depressive slump, only to shoot my family down from daily excitement for my going back into the work force. And for what? An executive assistant job. Even though my husband tells me every single day—as well as my therapist—that this is not the end all job for me, that I have the option of continuing to look for another job in my field while I'm employed. Although I plan on adhering to this advice, I'm disillusioned regardless. 

I feel as though my life has shifted again to this endless abyss of depression. Perhaps it's as simple as feeling sorry for myself, I don't know. Will I ever know the answer to this, or again, is it the reaction of my bipolar disorder? I truly don't know how to answer to what seems, this neverending question in my life.

Let's hope I have an answer soon enough.

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Anniversary Lost

This upcoming Friday, August 10, would have been my parents' 55th wedding anniversary. As I look back with idealistic memories of my parents and how they celebrated this joyous occasion, I look forward with true sadness and despair. I will still call my mother and wish her a happy anniversary, even though my father will not be there to answer the phone like he always did, I will call her to make sure she's OK regardless. I know it will be difficult for me because I will never hear his happy voice when he heard I was on the other end. I will never hear him call me that nickname he gave me since I was a baby ever again. I will never hear his voice at all ever again.

I'm sad and I'm truly heartbroken. I had hoped that I was able to visit and spend that time with my mother so she wouldn't have to be alone, or have her come here, but since I started my new job, that just wasn't possible. She chose to prolong her visit for another month or so instead. Why? I don't know, but it's her decision either way.

My mother is doing well. Surprisingly well. I admire her strength and I know as their anniversary approaches, I know it will affect her. How could it not? Perhaps that is why she is choosing to not visit at this time, because she probably wanted to be alone during this sad occasion. Instead, she will spend it with my father's spirit and celebrate their love and their many years of marriage, which would have been a colossal observance. It was special to her, and still is. She says she talks to him everyday as if he's still there in the same room with her. Perhaps it's possible he is, or maybe he isn't and her voice goes unheard. But for my mom, it makes her feel better, and that's all that matters. It's her way of dealing with this difficult time as she continues to grieve.

How she chooses to grieve is her choosing and I will not begrudge her for that. It is her choice, not mine. I know she loved him, and that's all that matters.

I will celebrate it in my heart, knowing that it would have been a monumental occasion for them, many years of marriage that has seen many downs, but mostly ups, where they finished each other's sentences and laughed at what most people would find ridiculous and silly. It was just their way. They were like two peas in a pod. A long marriage that unfortunately is atypical these days. 

As anyone could surmise, I still miss my father very much and still continue to think about him every single day. It makes me sad as I reflect on what a wonderful father he was, but grateful at the same time. But mostly, I reminisce about him and how he had such strength and energy, and I remember what he stood for and how hard he worked as we were growing up to ensure we had everything we wanted, and of course, a roof over our heads and food on the table.

Yesterday afternoon during some down time at work, I was admiring some old photos that I took of my father last summer and this past December, and it saddened me greatly. I know it always will for a very long time, and as it still brought tears to my eyes, I realized while I was sitting at my desk, at my new job, I knew I had to put my phone away and look away until I was able to compose myself. It was difficult nonetheless. 

The upcoming celebration of their anniversary will be a quiet one without my father's presence, but I know in our hearts, he will always be there and I know for my mother, his memory will never fade away, even on that celebratory occasion.

I miss you, daddy. I love you very much.

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