My husband is hard working with a full time job. I was also hard working with a full time job when we met, and we set-up-shop assuming we would stay a two income family.
Lord only knows I’ve tried. However for the past ten years I’ve averaged two job losses per year. It’s been an exhausting ride.
First there’s the excitement of being offered a new opportunity. Then there’s the success. I am smart and often capable, which calls for thankful employers and great praise. While both my employer and I hope for “a good fit”, workplaces then trigger delusional paranoia and inappropriate or at least dramatic behavior on my part. Work makes plotting or at least recognizing my high and low points impossible.
After all this trial, holding a full time job is no longer possible. Pulling this life change off is not easy. It’s not even really possible, financially. We’ve dramatically reduced our lifestyle obligations and thanks to a decent credit score, we bugger on. My husband and I are both faithful things will change for our household, but we’re currently unsure how. Regardless, I’ve begun the process of recovering full time. Hopefully this path will support us all in a better way.
My days are busy earnestly managing our household and parenting our son. For six months I’ve lived a healthful, peaceful hiatus from work. I’m at a new baseline. Life without working is potentially saving my life. Explosive work environments have in the past led down slippery slops to acute mania or depression – both with psychosis, which is horribly scary and makes painful ways for stopping the madness understandable.
Thankfully, now I’m in a good place. Even on a bad day, life is pretty good. I believe this is in part due to more day-to-day routine, calm and time for joy. I have the space to see the middle-of-the road moods before they can fester into something more serious. For example I got a little irritable the other day. Since this can be a symptom of mania, I focused on the mood development while meeting with my psychologist. Usually in counseling I make myself feel better by recounting the wonders of my life. Today I’m straightforward and grounded — self aware and proactive. In my current recovery, therapy actually makes a difference. My therapist and I learned that I’ve been healthfully irritable. It all makes good, logical sense. That said, we’ll watch it. Thanks to my less rigorous calendar and my husband’s health insurance, I have an appointment next week.
In the past, after an episode, I’ve missed the mania or felt remorse for the things I’ve done or said. In remission living a life of recovery, my healthy mind reminds me that self-care maintains a life worth living. Not a life worth ending. Rising from years of trauma has been a painful process, but I am able to hold my head high and nurture improved self worth. Potential episodes would probably be warded off or more manageable now so I’m less fearful of the future. Ultimately, I know triggered episodes and my consequent behavior are not my fault. My mental illness is to blame. If only my diagnoses earned a paycheck.