Rock Bottom

I think we've hit it. We've hit rock bottom. Aside from being homeless, I feel like we're on the verge of losing everything. We have worked so hard just to stay afloat, only to have it all come crumbling down any day. 

Ever since my husband lost his job last year, and since I lost my job back in April, our lives have fallen deeper into a financial abyss. Last month, I had to sell a piece of jewelry that meant the world to me. Given to me from my husband over 6 years ago, was the only piece of jewelry from my husband that I had left. A year and a half after we were married, I lost my wedding ring. Although it was immediately replaced from our insurance policy, I still no longer had that original ring that he placed on my finger on our wedding day, so as a reminder, I felt like I lost my wedding ring all over again.

I received a decent sum of money to help us through, but as that sum has trickled down, I fear we will be back to struggling once again. I know what we have left, it most likely won't last more than a month; maybe even a few weeks at the most. My husband still hasn't found an acceptable job, something that will sustain us each month, and for now, I am only working part time as a preschool teacher. I wanted to do something different with my life, and although for the most part, I'm happy with it, I miss doing what I love most, graphic design.

I've been able to have fun with the kids as I collaborate new and exciting art projects, but the feeling of accomplishment only goes so far. 

Back in April, I was fired from my job—a job that I held for a year and a half. I was overworked and underpaid. I came home everyday feeling more stressed than the day prior. Everyday was an emotional struggle but I knew, as unhappy as I was at my job, at least I was making money. The entire time I worked there, I had never received a raise, even though I was promised one. Finally after a year and a half, I was fired for reasons of making errors. I admit to these errors, and for that, I blame my disease. I know what my mind is capable of, and for the past few years, my mind has slipped.

Suffering from bipolar disorder makes your mind wander. I couldn't concentrate and as a result, dealing with orders, numbers, etc. was just too much of a challenge.

I hated that job. Hated it more than anything. I dreaded going into work everyday and I dreaded dealing with customers/clients. When I'd get an email asking where their order was, I wanted to scream! It was the same thing each and everyday. Someone always complained about something, and it never seemed to end.

I was underpaid, but I grudgingly showed up everyday like clockwork. Like the rest of society.

Ironically, since that day, I was awarded unemployment insurance, which even today, still surprises me since I was fired. Because I never received any written notices or warnings, they considered that a valid reason. Although my employer fought it, I still won.

That was the best feeling, knowing I had the last word. So for now, albeit temporarily, I have money supplementing my part time job.

Now, I am working half that time and making the same money per hour. Less stress of course, but because I work with 3-5 year olds 5 days a week, it's a different kind of stress. Regardless, I don't go home wanting to pull my hair out and running for the bottle of wine.

After all of this time, and all of this heartache with our lives, I try to look at the positive—we have each other. We're all healthy (knock on wood) and we love each other. I look at my daughter everyday and think, where has that time gone? She is starting high school in a few weeks, and I want her to have the best high school experience that any teenager can have. Even though she is now on the free lunch program, I just look at it as one less stress to worry about. Wondering if she'll have enough money in her lunch account to get a hot lunch at school. Her sports are paid for since she qualifies for the free lunch program. 

She doesn't seem to mind, at least that's the impression she's giving us. For now, I just don't want her to worry about what will come next. I just want her to be happy and enjoy her high school experience. After all, it only happens once in our lives.


Bipolar Gal on Twitter

The Edge of Crazy

Why do I continually test the waters? Why is it I take it out on the people I care about the most? It seems this is a common monthly occurrence for me, and I always realize the next day—if not only a few hours later—how wrong I was, and how I risked so much as a result of this endless act. I am always wrought with guilt if only to consume me and ultimately, fill me with a constant pit in my stomach as though it'll all go away within an instant.

Our friendship will be no more.

But it never does. I am always forgiven. Is it because—as my friend frequently labels it, "I'm having a bipolar day?" I don't mind when he says that, because I know he's always right. Even though at that time, I don't admit it and only deny its very existence, I know he's right. It has become a common joke in our friendship, but I worry that one day, he will finally throw his arms up in the air and walk away. Walk away from what he no longer should have to put up with, but walk away from our dear friendship that has meant so much to both of us.

Walk away forever.

Even yesterday, I told him I must let him go from my life, but as I get ready for my day's work ahead of me, I am filled with regret. Butterflies flutter inside me with worry that he will finally say, "OK, nice knowing you." Would I blame him, no of course not. I didn't mean it, and I know he understands it's what I do—not that it makes it right of course, but it's what I do. Every month I try my hardest to accept our friendship for what it is, without the continuous threat of walking away. He has never made an attempt of ending it in the 2 years we have known each other.

We have been there for each other throughout everything—sad days to good days, depression to happiness. We have been friends through thick and through thin. Isn't that what friends are supposed to do for each other? Of course. Then why do I risk it regularly and risk losing a friend who means so much to me?

While I'm experiencing these regular "bipolar days," I always attempt to tell my friend that we should no longer be friends, and therefore remove him from my life forever. Only to regret it immediately thereafter. What is wrong with me? Why would I say such a harsh thing to a person who has always accepted me for who I am, and who has always been there for me through it all? He was there for me during the worst time of my life—during the death of my father. I will never forget that and I will be eternally grateful.

He's a very special person to me and I know deep down in my heart, it's not what I want. I will always want him there for someone to confide in and go to for advice, if only for a shoulder for someone to listen to me. And he always knows, he can do the same with me. I will always listen to him and be there for him. Recently, I have been experiencing pain in my life and I have used him for my pillow to cry into, and as I always suspect, he's there for me. Sometimes it takes a little longer than I would for him, but I understand that he's busy in his life and busy with his family. They must come first. He has recently reconciled with his 'wife' and as a result of that, it only makes him busier. I have been so happy for him and only wish nothing but the best for their relationship. It's what he's been wanting for over 8 months. I couldn't be happier for him.

When he calls me, it brightens my day. Hearing his voice brings nothing but a smile to my face. Whether I'm having a down day, it brings me new life. We speak on the phone everyday, and even though I know he's busy, he still takes the time to call me. Is it because I expect it and feels it's easier to avoid confrontation? I don't know. I only hope it's because he too likes to talk to me so we can discuss our daily lives. As a friend, he isn't 'required' to call me, as it wouldn't be fair to him to accept such a task, but when I hear my phone ring and look at the caller ID and see it's him, it only makes me smile. 

Does that make me obsessed? I don't think so, but maybe it does. Maybe in some cosmic way it's not healthy. There are days—during my "bipolar" moments—that I sometimes feel it's only for the best that I walk away and make it easier for him, so he doesn't have to feel the obligation that I possibly project onto him everyday.

There are days where we talk for an hour if not longer, and days where we talk for 20 minutes or less. If I ask him to call, he always does, but most of the time, he'll call on his own without my asking. If that's not a true friend, I don't know what is.

So what is the problem? Why do I question our friendship and consistently ask for reassurance? I have always been insecure with my life—from my physical appearance, to relationships—and even today, I still question its very existence and the depth that is felt on the other end.

I try so hard, and I need to continue to try to maintain what we have now and the strength that our friendship continues to endure. I trust him, and I know he sees something in me that nobody else would. I love him for that, and I know he's a dear friend as a result of it.

I'm sorry, M/M. I'm sorry for continually putting you through this up and down "bipolar" spiral that you do not deserve. You have proven to me that our friendship means a lot to you, and therefore you no longer have to convince me of how much it means to you. 

Because I trust you.

Bipolar Gal on Twitter

Finally feeling better, but not cured...

I got a job. I finally got a job. About a month ago, the week before Xmas, I was hired to start a new job at a local print shop. I never thought I'd work at a print shop, but as a graphic designer, it was always recommended that I do so. There is so much to learn, and I never thought in a million years, with the many years of experience in my field, that I'd be at a loss of what I'm doing. Obviously I was hired as a graphic designer / pre-flight specialist. Pre-flight? What's that?

That's what we do in the printing business as setting up files for the printers to execute for the client. I have a lot to learn, and right now, I'm clueless. I walked into my first day feeling confident, knowing with the 10+ years of graphic design under my belt, I thought I knew it all. 

Not the case.

Everyday I'm learning something new. I know this is good not only for my psyche, but my experience as a designer. This is what I needed to succeed in my field. While in college, professors always recommended to their design students of either an internship at a print shop, or better—a job. Several months ago, I had interviewed for a design position at another local print shop, only to be narrowed down to myself and another candidate. But unfortunately, I was not chosen. I was disappointed because I knew this would have been an ideal fit for me, but it just wasn't meant to be. Then several months later, I still remained unemployed.

Until now.

I knew during the interview that this is where I wanted to work. I knew right away after meeting the other designer and art directior, that it was where I wanted to be to further my career and experience. Then during the second interview with the production manager and the owner, it solidified my wishes. I walked out of that interview feeling more than confident, but assured that I would be offered the job.

And thankfully, I was right.

It wasn't even 30 minutes later that I received that anticipated call to start the following week. I was elated. I couldn't believe I was going to be employed once again. I knew I needed this to further my illness without feeling lonely and incompetent in what felt like eternal depression. I needed social interaction on a daily basis. I craved it.

Social interaction with other people out in the community than sitting by myself, everyday, in a dark loft waiting anxiously for my family to get home. There were days, however, that I admit I wanted to be by myself, but mostly I needed an adult conversation to further my intelligence. But, as any social person can imagine, speaking with my husband everyday and every night, only grew tiresome. Nothing against my husband, of course, but I wanted—and needed—to speak to a friend.

Once I started my job, it was apparent that this was the place for me. The owner of the company was always looking out for his employees, and my fellow co-workers were actually nice. They actually seemed genuine.They were considerate to one another. Something I just wasn't used to in my many years as an employee. 

No cattiness here.

I was happy. I was actually happy. Could this be a feeling I have waited for for so long? For once, I didn't have that overriding feeling of negativitiy; something I have experienced for many months now. I felt confident and I actually have a good feeling about this place, as well as my employer (the owner).

As I continue to feel good about this job, I will work hard and continue to be social with my co-workers, perhaps going out and having the opportunity of sitting down and having a beer together. It's what I have needed for so long. 

I need this to further my recovery, and although I have put my therapy sessions on hold, I will continue my medication regardless, because I want to feel good about myself as a person, as well as my job. 

Dammit, I deserve this.

Bipolar Gal on Twitter

Does Happiness Exist?

For most people, perhaps it does. But for me, I'm not so sure. As I gaze at my life, I recognize that happiness should exist for me, but most of the time, it doesn't. Am I selfish? Am I expecting too much? Perhaps.

I expect to be happy, and I expect to surround myself in a world of content, only to be disappointed instead. I'm lucky to have a loving, supporting husband, and a healthy daughter who have both accepted my bipolar disorder without judgment and resentment, because they love me regardless. I know my outbursts have only saddened them, instead of angered them as most people would deal with such torment. For most families, I imagine this would only be the case. Not for me, however, so why can't I be appreciative instead of questioning the result of my happiness?

I know for one to ask if happiness exists is the million dollar question we all ask ourselves, if not an expectation we all want to grasp. With the fear of losing it all, I only want to be thankful for the support I have received instead of questioning it on a daily basis. 

I've always believed—albeit wrongly—that happiness cannot and does not exist for me. Perhaps I'm being pessimistic, but in my heart, it can't. Can it? I look at people and their lives, their families, and their careers, and they all seem happy and satisfied. With me, I'm not so sure. I've had many jobs over the years and I honestly cannot think of one that I've been completely in love with. On the contrary, I've only felt dissatisfaction instead. With all of them.

How can that be? Is it so difficult to feel happiness and fulfillment? For most people, they would look down upon their lives and be thankful for everything they have been blessed with, whereas for me, I'm the opposite. It seems that my job situation won't escape me. I've had to go backwards instead of forward with my career. My current job isn't in my field, but only a job I've held for years as I battled my way through college. What is the point of my degree? Why did I bother? I've always been an advocate of the regurgitating effects of an education—that it's never a waste. But this time, I'm not so sure.

I'm lucky to have such a supportive family, that much I'm grateful for. But our finances and my job situation have hindered this feeling of satisfaction which continuously override the lack of happiness in my life. As I continue to daydream and wonder what life would be like without the worry of funds, I often wonder if we'll ever be financially secure in our lives, or are we destined to live the life of struggle as we wrestle our way through a web of destruction? I know I should be grateful for our lives and what we have with each other would be the easier way to go, instead of dreading on what we don't have, but instead, what we do have.

Most people say that money should not define us, but only to make us indebted to what we've been blessed with to make our lives that much easier. However, I always seem to battle with the continuous negative thoughts of unhappiness. We know that's not right, and we all know that money does not make us happy, but the jealousy of such a dream override my unhappy thoughts.

I know that one day, money will hopefully never be an issue—I pray for this on a daily basis, so how can it not? I won't give up on an incessant job search in hopes of a better way of life; to ensure my happiness with everything full circle in my life. In our lives. I will be adamant, therefore something will have to give way to my relentless forage of happiness if only to secure our finances. It must, or I will drive myself crazy with the possibility of an unsuccessful exploration of triumph; an effort and drive of love for that one perfect job. I know there's one out there, therefore I won't give up.

I must be positive.

Bipolar Gal on Twitter

Euphoria

That word, what does it mean to you? According to the dictionary, it is defined as this:

eu•pho•ri•a

noun

a feeling or state of intense excitement and happiness:
the euphoria of success will fuel your desire to continue training

ORIGIN late 17th century (denoting well-being produced in a sick person by the use of drugs): modern Latin, from Greek, from euphoros 'borne well, healthy,' from eu 'well' + pherein 'to bear.'

Yup, that's it in a nutshell.

This past week, I felt exactly that way. I was on top of the world! Nothing could go wrong. It was the best feeling I've had in several months. 

But then it changed. All of a sudden, it felt like my world came tumbling down—not literally of course, but my mood just plummeted. What was going on with me? How could I go from being way up on the charts, to way down on the charts? For those of you who are suffering from Bipolar Disorder will know that this is consistent with the disease. But at the time that it's happening, you really don't look at it that way. You continually ask yourself this common question—why? Why is this happening to me—again!

This is how I felt:

acrylic on canvas 2008 • untitled • artist – me

Even though this is an abstract painting that I painted several years ago, it's still how I felt that day and that night. Which unfortunately, continued into yesterday. An abstract of someone—a display of 'funkiness' running through my mind. Today? I feel a lot better, but again, as the day progresses, only time will tell.

Now we all know that there's a chemical in your brain that produces how we feel, how we think, and how we react. Please don't ask me what this is called, but at this point, does it really matter? We know it's there, and we now know why, so in my eyes, if it's happening, it's real.

A few nights ago, after spending the entire day feeling euphoric, all of a sudden I was in a depressed mood. So depressed, that I started crying—crying for no apparent reason whatsoever. I couldn't understand it. How could I feel so invigorated throughout the day, only to cry for no reason? As I was crying, I immediately went into our bedroom and woke my husband up from a deep sleep. I asked him to assist me during my time of need. Thankfully, he was there as usual, helping me cope. 

Thank goodness he was there to help me because in my head, I kept thinking what is wrong with me and why am I feeling this way. Even to him, with what I have been going through these past several months, was kind of difficult for him to comprehend. Do I blame him? Of course not. But as we were talking it out, he understood and realized he needed to be there and talk me down. I've come to the point where 'talking me down' is something that he must do. 

And thankfully, it always works. Even during my most agitated state, it works.

As I continue with my medication, I am persisting through this disease on a daily basis. 

Bipolar Gal on Twitter